Help Kingston’s Family Through Unimaginable Loss 

For six years, almost every decision I made was about keeping my son Kingston alive and making sure the life we were fighting to save was one he could actually enjoy.

Kingston was three years old when he was diagnosed with metastatic medulloblastoma, an aggressive pediatric brain cancer that had already spread to his spine. He underwent two brain surgeries almost immediately and developed Posterior Fossa Syndrome.
My little boy lost his ability to walk, speak and swallow. He was mute for months.

Our lives became chemotherapy, 30 rounds of craniospinal radiation, a stem cell transplant, hospitalizations, sepsis and years of rehabilitation. We spent hours every day in therapy helping Kingston relearn everything cancer and treatment had taken from him.

I was his mother, caregiver, advocate, therapist, transportation and full-time support system. Caring for him wasn’t something I did around a job. It was my job, and the income I received as his caregiver supported Kingston, his little sister and me.

Kingston worked incredibly hard to get his life back. He learned to walk again. His voice returned. He went back to school, played soccer and baseball, made friends, loved Pokémon and the Lakers, and got to be a kid again.

For a few years, we believed we had beaten cancer.

Then it came back.

We fought again, only this time there were fewer options and less time. Kingston eventually lost his ability to walk again.
Near the end, he could no longer speak or eat.

He died at home on July 18, 2024. He was nine years old. His tenth birthday was eleven days away.

I spent six years believing I would handle everything else later. I would rebuild my career later. I would pay down the debt later. I would replace our savings later. I would repair whatever cancer had done to us financially once Kingston was okay.

Eventually, “later” came. Kingston just wasn’t in it.

When my son died, the caregiver income and assistance supporting our household ended immediately. The bills, debt and consequences of being out of the traditional workforce for years did not.

Since losing Kingston, I have been evicted twice. My car was repossessed. I have sold belongings to pay for necessities. I am carrying an enormous amount of debt from the years our family spent surviving pediatric cancer, and I have not been able to find gainful employment.

I have submitted more than 1,000 job applications. I am not refusing to work or waiting for the perfect opportunity. I have applied for positions far below my experience level, temporary work, local jobs and anything that could provide consistent income. I want a paycheck. I want to buy groceries without calculating what bill will go unpaid. I want to care for my daughter without having to ask strangers for help.

Recently, I finally started getting interviews and scheduling paid gigs. Last month, on the day of an interview for a job I really wanted, but that same day I was admitted for emergency surgery. I missed the interview.

This morning, I had another interview scheduled for a job I genuinely wanted. We have been at the hospital since yesterday afternoon because my kids’ dad is now having surgery. He is also the person who has been covering most of our basic expenses while I continue searching for work.

When the only person earning money suddenly cannot work, there is nothing left to move around. There is no emergency fund and no room on a credit card. There is only another bill and the question of which necessity we are supposed to go without.

We urgently need $530 for out-of-pocket medical expenses. We also need help paying for groceries, gas, utilities, phone service and other basic household expenses while her dad recovers and cannot work.

I am exhausted. I am forever, trying to find a balance between living a “normal life” while forever grieving my sweet boy.  Some days it feels like it all happened 1 million years ago and others. It feels like it was yesterday.  It’s a strange thing, trying to raise my daughter, rebuild a career, recover from my own mental and physical breakdowns, and try to keep our family functioning through one hit after another. I hate that I am still asking for help. I hate that two years of applications and effort have not produced stable employment. More than anything, I hate that losing Kingston did not give us time to grieve before the financial consequences began taking everything else too.

If you cannot donate, sharing this fundraiser may help it reach someone who can. Please pray that healing comes quickly and that our family finally gets enough room to recover. I do not want to live from one emergency to the next. I want to work, support my daughter and rebuild some kind of stability after losing Kingston.

Right now, I need help getting us through today.

With gratitude,

Maile