As I sat in terminal D four days ago at the Philadelphia airport I couldn’t help but think of the last time I was here. Our entire family was heading to Maui for TJ’s Make a Wish trip. It was a happy time. Happy knowing TJ would get to see the banyan tree. That tree was the reason he chose Maui and it proved to be as spectacular as he hoped it would be.
On the beach in Maui under a perfect rainbow
TJ at the Banyan Tree (initial carving allowed)
He didn’t know then that he had cancer. Maybe he did. Everyone told us a smart twelve year old like him would have figured it out and he was sparing us the added burden of that knowledge. But it was still a happy time. The double rainbows, sea turtles swimming near shore, glorious sunsets. Did it have to end?
I think about all these moments, staring out the window at the airport Dunkin Donuts, failing to hold back tears. It was TJ who got me on a plane to Seattle the summer of 2015 after a no-fly zone was constructed in my subconscious after 9-11. He wanted to see his Aunt Jeri and I was going to make it happen. With the support of my sisters and the generosity of a stranger’s airline miles the two of us ventured west for a week of treasured memories. 
(L) TJ getting some equine therapy; (R) photo op with a giant hat at the park; (below) Crabbing on the Puget Sound
(L) Driving the crabbing boat
(R) Getting a personal tour of the Space Needle
He was given the royal treatment all over Seattle, from the Space Needle to a horse farm, from the Sounders soccer game to crabbing on the Sound. He soaked in every detail of beauty and every line of architecture, in awe of the city around him.
I was flying again that rainy morning four days ago and I had my beautiful first-born son to thank. He taught me to not be scared (still working on that, TJ) because life is short. And now, today, as I fly home to Philadelphia, I think of not just TJ, but of Chase, TJ’s heavenly brother (and the son of one of my great friends) who died one year ago of the same awful disease. I am in the clouds and I’m fairly certain these two peas-in-a-pod are running around eternity together along with some other brothers, all keeping an eye on their mamas. 
Thank you TJ for teaching your Mom to leap, not with fear, but with anticipation. I know you are with me. Oh, and Marcus says hello. But you knew that already.
