For six years, almost every decision I made was about giving Kingston the best possible chance of surviving cancer and making sure the life we were fighting so hard to save was actually a life worth living.

Kingston was three years old when he was diagnosed with metastatic medulloblastoma, an aggressive pediatric brain cancer. He had two brain surgeries almost immediately and developed Posterior Fossa Syndrome afterward. My little boy lost his ability to walk, talk and swallow. He didn't speak for months. Our lives became chemotherapy, 30 rounds of craniospinal radiation, a stem cell transplant, hospitalizations, sepsis and years of rehabilitation and therapies.

I poured everything I had into him, literally and figuratively. If there was a therapy that could help him walk again, we found a way. If something could help him communicate, eat, move independently or have a better quality of life, we tried. I wasn't only fighting to keep my son alive. I wanted him to have a life worth being alive for.

Kingston fought incredibly hard for that life. He learned to walk again. His voice came back. 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, less time, less money and less help. Kingston had already fought so hard to get his life back, and I had to watch cancer take it from him again. Eventually he couldn't walk anymore. Near the end, he couldn't speak or eat.

Kingston 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 deal with everything else later. I would rebuild my career later. I would pay off the debt later. I would rebuild our savings later. I would fix whatever cancer had done to us financially once my son was okay.

Eventually there was a later. Kingston just wasn't in it.

I would spend every dollar again if it meant I could have him back. The reality, though, is that the financial consequences didn't end when his cancer did. For years, caring for Kingston was my full-time job. When he died, the income and assistance connected to caring for him ended, while the debt, lost years of employment and expenses remained.

Since losing Kingston, I have been evicted twice. My Explorer was repossessed. I have sold belongings because we needed the money to live. I owe hundreds of thousands of dollars connected to the years of Kingston's treatment that I cannot begin to make meaningful payments toward when I am struggling to cover our current expenses.

I have applied for more than 1,000 jobs, and what I need more than anything is employment. I want a regular paycheck, direct deposit and the ability to pay all of our bills instead of moving the same insufficient amount of money between whichever one has become the biggest emergency that week.

Recently, I was finally getting interviews and had several opportunities moving forward. I also had physical side work available to bring in immediate money for groceries and gas while I continued interviewing. Then I ended up in the ER and needed emergency surgery. My interviews were interrupted, and I cannot do the physical work I had lined up while I recover.

There was nothing underneath us to absorb another setback.

Right now I am choosing between basic things that shouldn't have to compete with each other. I need medications after surgery, but we need groceries. My phone is past due, but I need it on so employers can reach me. I need internet to apply and interview. I need gas to get to appointments and interviews. I need to pay the electric bill. I have postponed my own medical and dental care and even missed appointments because I couldn't afford the gas and hospital parking required to get there. I keep putting things off because there isn't enough money to cover everything, and putting them off only makes them more expensive later.

The thing keeping me awake right now is our storage unit. It is approaching a lien, and Kingston's belongings are inside.

I cannot lose his things too.

My son is gone. There will never be another school picture, birthday card, pair of shoes he outgrows, sweatshirt left on the floor or Pokémon he decides he absolutely has to have. What I have left of him is finite. Those boxes contain things he touched, wore and loved, pieces of the nine years I got to have my son here. After everything we have already lost, the possibility of losing those things because I cannot pay a storage bill is devastating.

I also have Kingston's little sister to take care of. Zuma spent most of her childhood living alongside her brother's cancer, and then she lost him too. She is starting middle school and turning eleven this month, and right now I have nothing set aside for either.

She needs clothes that fit, school supplies and dental care. Her cheer tuition is $355. I want to give her a small birthday with her friends and a birthday present. These aren't extraordinary things. They're ordinary parts of being eleven, and I don't want her learning to stop asking for ordinary things because she knows her mom cannot afford them.

I need help getting us through this immediate period while I recover and continue trying to find stable employment.

Right now that means approximately $300 for medications and surgery-related copays, $300 for my past-due phone, $120 for internet, $220 to prevent a lien on the storage containing Kingston's belongings, $800 I still owe my cousin for the Subaru he sold me after my Explorer was repossessed, approximately $100 a week for gas, $355 for Zuma's cheer tuition, our electric bill, groceries and household necessities, and Zuma's middle-school clothes, supplies and birthday.

Anything helps. Truly. If someone wants to pay a bill directly, that helps. Grocery or gas gift cards help. Keeping my phone and internet connected helps me continue applying and interviewing. Helping me protect Kingston's belongings means more to me than I can adequately explain.

If you cannot donate, please share this fundraiser. If you know someone who is genuinely hiring, please share my résumé or put me in front of them. A job is what I need most because I don't want to keep surviving from one emergency to the next. I want to support my daughter, pay our bills and finally have enough stability that the next unexpected expense doesn't put everything else at risk.

I cannot fix everything cancer took from us. I cannot bring Kingston home. Right now I am asking for help holding onto what I have left of him, taking care of his little sister, and getting through this setback long enough to get back to work.

Anything you can do helps take one thing off a pile that has become too heavy for me to carry by myself.

With all the gratitude and love and, honestly, apologies,

Maile

For more about Maile, her writing, podcast, and other work, click here

To read Kingston’s story and learn about the Live Like Kingston Foundation Maile is building in his honor to help other families affected by pediatric cancer and child loss, visit Live Like Kingston