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This is a touchy subject for me because the person that I miss most in this world died 13 years ago. My son was five when he passed. I held him in my arms as he drew his last breath. Some of you are saying 'oh my God, how awful'. It was. He had two types of Leukemia and we were unable to fight either one of them. I am not trying to make anyone sad, so I will tell you what my son was like.

He had the face of an angel. Light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was always small for his age, but with a heart bigger than Texas. He always had a smile on his face and he never met a stranger. He had a nurse at the hospital that he simply adored. When we were in the hospital, no other nurse was allowed in his room. He would start picking on her as soon as she walked in the door. He would say things like 'are you going to work or just stand around', 'it really would be nice if you would wear a nurses uniform, you look like my mom on a bad day' and his favorite thing to tell her was 'I bet you can't even remember my real name'.

The last was the funniest because we never called him by his real name, just Bubba. When we first started going to the hospital, he would get so mad if someone called him by his real name. Tonya, the nurse that I'm speaking of, learned within the first week that if she had to match the medication with his wrist band she would simply say 'Bubba'. This began a true and wonderful friendship for him.

Each day he would go to the playroom, hoping each time that one of the other children were feeling good enough to join him. He would laugh at their silly jokes and would make some up himself. Most of his were about his and other's bald heads. He would say 'give me some skin". This prompted the rubbing of heads together and laughter throughout.

He had a favorite stuffed animal, a monkey that he named Charnie. Charnie was bought at a garage sale by his great-grandmother for a quarter. This was the most precious item that he owned and of course Nanaw was ecstatic that he loved that monkey so much. No matter what the procedure or how much pain he was in, he would hold Charnie close and tell him over and over that everything would be okay. On more than one occasion, the doctor or nurse doing the procedure would have to leave the room crying. You have to realize that most of the procedures were very painful and not most adults could withstand the pain.

He had a ton of friends in and out of the hospital. On August 26, 1993, eleven days after his fifth birthday, my

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