Anna Cunningham, With Our Love
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Anna was diagnosed in March 2016 with a rare childhood cancer -Ewing's Sarcoma. She fought hard these past few years with intense chemotherapy, radiation, and a bone marrow transplant at Children's Hospital in Denver. Unfortunately, this disease has been relentless.
You'll learn from my sisters beautiful message below, that Anna will be leaving us. We all feel helpless in trying to find anything at all to say or do to make the completion of Anna's life better. I am updating this page to provide an avenue for friends and family to support Anna, Cooper, Julie and Red during this difficult time.
We can do our best to support the Cunningham's, and continue to fill Anna's her heart and soul with love, hugs, and even smiles. So many of you have eased this journey and your generosity warms our hearts.
Love Lead the Way
Journal entry by Julie Warren — Oct 27, 2018
How do you write the last chapter of your child's life? Our greatest fears are now clear and present. Anna's cancer has returned aggressively and throughout her frail body, with no cure, and only months to live. These are the words she bravely heard this week. I have cried so many different tears these three years, but these ones, are different. They are heavy with the wrenching pain of unspeakable fear and sadness and loss. My baby girl is leaving me. She's leaving us. Too soon, dear God, far too soon.
The best guess is that she has less than 6 months left with us. My God, how do you pack a life time into such a short space of time? How can I imprint her on my being so that I can always feel her with me and remember the sound of her voice, her laughter or the warmth of her body. I am terrified to lose her. We are uncertain of how this will go. We can only pray we have the strength and grace to honor her ending beautifully and with as much love and peace as we can.
Faced with this, our minds reach towards all the things she will never do or see; all of the things she won't be there for with us. This was her last summer. She won't go to college. On and on. So much has been stolen from her and our family by this disease. We cannot let it take one more thing from us. These last days cannot be ruined by grief or sadness. We need to fill our hearts with Anna and all that she is, but we also need to fill her with the strength and love she will need for the last part of her journey in this life. I can barely read these words and believe them...
No words have been harder for me to write nor more worthy of meaning and truth. How do I impart the preciousness of who she is and the tragedy of what we will soon lose? To honor her, and to love her through this is our family and our community's most important job right now. I thank all of you with all of my heart for your support, love and strength. You have, in so many ways lifted us and Anna up. The beauty of this, within the sorrow and pain, will never be lost for us.
Anna is soaking this in. Trying to feel the reality of it. At 16, I am not sure how or if that is possible. I imagine that slowly she will fade away from us, guided now by hospice care. She will have a few more comfort measure treatments. Radiation to her neck and pelvis and a medication that may slow the growth of her tumors and buy her more time. Sadly, pain will be a hallmark of this time for her, as the tumors invade the bones of her body. This breaks my heart so incredibly deeply. There are no words.
As we try and muster the fortitude and will to move towards her end, we will ask of each of you to ease our burden, as you can. Anna does not want pity or tears of sadness, and neither do we. Honestly, talking about this, or answering the question, "How is Anna?", especially now, will break the thin veneer of emotional control we are trying to preserve. This moment is about Anna, not our tears or our need to feel better about something so tragic. When you see us or her, please bring a smile and a hug.
Normal, blessed normal. Such a simple thing, and yet now an impossible thing to hope for. This is the gift you can give Anna. Let her and us share what we can, when we can. Put the question, "How is Anna?' away...because the answer is, she's going to die. The answer to, "How are you doing?" to Red or I or Cooper is, beyond devastated. Beyond crushed, leveled to our knees with searing and unrelenting grief. Those are discussions we can't have now, answers we cannot face. Read this and spread the news.
If her journey has ever made you feel something, gratitude for your life and family or health. Or if you have been moved to offer support or service to those who are struggling. If you have been touched in some way that has made your life better, then by God we did beat cancer after all and her short life has had more meaning than we could ever have dreamed.
Life without Anna is still unimaginable to us. With what time we have, let's celebrate her and the life that goes forward, filled with her memory and richer for the gift of having been blessed to be a part of her journey. My angel Anna, dearest heart, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.
You'll learn from my sisters beautiful message below, that Anna will be leaving us. We all feel helpless in trying to find anything at all to say or do to make the completion of Anna's life better. I am updating this page to provide an avenue for friends and family to support Anna, Cooper, Julie and Red during this difficult time.
We can do our best to support the Cunningham's, and continue to fill Anna's her heart and soul with love, hugs, and even smiles. So many of you have eased this journey and your generosity warms our hearts.
Love Lead the Way
Journal entry by Julie Warren — Oct 27, 2018
How do you write the last chapter of your child's life? Our greatest fears are now clear and present. Anna's cancer has returned aggressively and throughout her frail body, with no cure, and only months to live. These are the words she bravely heard this week. I have cried so many different tears these three years, but these ones, are different. They are heavy with the wrenching pain of unspeakable fear and sadness and loss. My baby girl is leaving me. She's leaving us. Too soon, dear God, far too soon.
The best guess is that she has less than 6 months left with us. My God, how do you pack a life time into such a short space of time? How can I imprint her on my being so that I can always feel her with me and remember the sound of her voice, her laughter or the warmth of her body. I am terrified to lose her. We are uncertain of how this will go. We can only pray we have the strength and grace to honor her ending beautifully and with as much love and peace as we can.
Faced with this, our minds reach towards all the things she will never do or see; all of the things she won't be there for with us. This was her last summer. She won't go to college. On and on. So much has been stolen from her and our family by this disease. We cannot let it take one more thing from us. These last days cannot be ruined by grief or sadness. We need to fill our hearts with Anna and all that she is, but we also need to fill her with the strength and love she will need for the last part of her journey in this life. I can barely read these words and believe them...
No words have been harder for me to write nor more worthy of meaning and truth. How do I impart the preciousness of who she is and the tragedy of what we will soon lose? To honor her, and to love her through this is our family and our community's most important job right now. I thank all of you with all of my heart for your support, love and strength. You have, in so many ways lifted us and Anna up. The beauty of this, within the sorrow and pain, will never be lost for us.
Anna is soaking this in. Trying to feel the reality of it. At 16, I am not sure how or if that is possible. I imagine that slowly she will fade away from us, guided now by hospice care. She will have a few more comfort measure treatments. Radiation to her neck and pelvis and a medication that may slow the growth of her tumors and buy her more time. Sadly, pain will be a hallmark of this time for her, as the tumors invade the bones of her body. This breaks my heart so incredibly deeply. There are no words.
As we try and muster the fortitude and will to move towards her end, we will ask of each of you to ease our burden, as you can. Anna does not want pity or tears of sadness, and neither do we. Honestly, talking about this, or answering the question, "How is Anna?", especially now, will break the thin veneer of emotional control we are trying to preserve. This moment is about Anna, not our tears or our need to feel better about something so tragic. When you see us or her, please bring a smile and a hug.
Normal, blessed normal. Such a simple thing, and yet now an impossible thing to hope for. This is the gift you can give Anna. Let her and us share what we can, when we can. Put the question, "How is Anna?' away...because the answer is, she's going to die. The answer to, "How are you doing?" to Red or I or Cooper is, beyond devastated. Beyond crushed, leveled to our knees with searing and unrelenting grief. Those are discussions we can't have now, answers we cannot face. Read this and spread the news.
If her journey has ever made you feel something, gratitude for your life and family or health. Or if you have been moved to offer support or service to those who are struggling. If you have been touched in some way that has made your life better, then by God we did beat cancer after all and her short life has had more meaning than we could ever have dreamed.
Life without Anna is still unimaginable to us. With what time we have, let's celebrate her and the life that goes forward, filled with her memory and richer for the gift of having been blessed to be a part of her journey. My angel Anna, dearest heart, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.
Organizer and beneficiary
Deb Warren Logar
Organizer
Carbondale, CO
Julie Warren
Beneficiary
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