Maybe the hardest part about being a kid with Cowden’s Syndrome, is trying to be a kid.
I wouldn’t know. My diagnosis came way after I was a “kid,” although I might say that it was never easy fitting in being the kid who was always at the doctor or in surgery – for something.
Meghan has kids who like her, but precious few that she calls friends. The girls she is close to are lovely through and through. I find them similar to Meghan in developmental exposure to the real world. They still know how to play dolls and be kids.
This week the swim meet was against the team of one of those friends. This is a young lady who has been to my home, and Meghan to hers. She chose to write a book about friendship and dedicate it to Meghan. They took countless swim classes together. So, the fact that they would be competing, in some of the same events today, caused anxiety for Meghan.
She worried about losing – and about winning. She wasn’t sure how to digest either one.
After the race where she took second and her friend took third, her dear sweet friend, half Meghan’s size, stayed behind to try to help Meghan out of the pool. I wanted to hug her for being so graceful and such a lady. That little girl, whom I always respected, gained my admiration forever right at that moment. It spoke volumes of her character.
So as we replayed the meet in the car on the way home, Meghan was pleased to have placed well. It was only her second competitive meet ever, and she was enjoying the feeling of competition. We didn’t dwell on it, and after a shower we were off to buy some shoes for Easter, and a sweater too.
Imagine then my surprise when I overheard her on the phone with another classmate bragging about her win over her dear friend.
When the conversation ended we spoke and there were tears. She was just so proud to finally be successful, she forgot herself. Now she was just beside herself. She was worried her friend would find out she had bragged, and was terrified at losing her friend over nonsense.
So, she did the bravest thing I could have imagined. She called her friend, and confessed. Knowing she might never get caught, she could not live with the fact that she had been disrespectful to someone she held so dear. So, in between sobs she told her friend the whole story. And she apologized.
I am sure she won’t do this again any time soon. She was devastated.
And her dear friend – I expected nothing less – greeted her with a pure and forgiving heart. Turns out she herself had once bragged, apologized, and been forgiven.
I love it when a story ends well. Life lesson taught. All friendships in tact.
When I was a little girl, we lived on the first floor of the two family house where my grandparents still live.
I feel like it used to snow a lot more when I was younger than it does now, and I can remember watching my grandfather take his snow blower and clear out the block – both sides of the street. It was one of the many times I was amazed, at his compassion, and Christian attitude towards his neighbors. Pop was my very first lesson in how to”Pay it Forward.” Always giving with no expectation, or desire that it be recognized or returned.
The years have changed a few things, but not everything. Pop still gives whatever he can, to whomever he can, whenever he can. But, at 93 he can no longer shovel the snow. We often laugh that if that is his only restriction – he is in pretty good shape. And truly, he could put most of us half his age to shame.
It snowed in New York today. The weather forecasters didn’t have it quite right, and what first was to be major, and then not so much, seemed to fall somewhere in the middle and it lingered all day. Since the forecast is for weather in the 50s this weekend, as the day went on the snow got wetter and heavier.
I aways leave work at lunch to let my dogs out. Today the roads around my school weren’t looking so good, so I decided to chance it and leave them. They lasted until 2:45 when we got home. Meghan let them out as I began to shovel the heavy snow off our walk. One of my neighbors had left path down the sidewalk. I don’t know who, but I can make some guesses. Either way, it was the kind to remind me of my grandfather, and all the walkways he cleared when I was a kid.
I told Meghan she had to come with me to shovel at GiGi and Pop’s house. She was more than willing. As a matter of fact she was excited, and insisted she would help. Heart bursting with pride, I reminisced about my early snow shoveling days. The days I probably did more harm than good, but I felt so important – so proud to be helping. I have always been so grateful that I was allowed to help shovel at a young age. I believe it motivated me to be a bit more of a team player. Snow shoveling was always just something we all did. So – it is a natural occurrence for me, and one I am happy to share with Meghan.
My grandparents don’t live far, and they have been blessed with neighbors that always seem to help with the shoveling. Often before we have had a chance to dig out our cars to lend a helping hand, we will get a call not to worry – the neighbors did it. Of course, we still head down to do what we can, but those neighbors and their kindness have helped us on so many occasions.
So when Meghan and I arrived – my grandparents were not home. They were out at a funeral for an old friend. Meghan and I went to work. While she was working on the front of my grandparents, I began to clear the neighbors. Finally we were there first! She was confused at first, but when I explained to her how kind they are, she insisted on clearing their driveway herself. She was actually annoyed when I told her she had gone far enough.
DETERMINATION
As we got back in the car, she was chatting me up about how much “FUN” it had been to shovel. She was so genuinely excited to be helpful, and I was glad to have a helper.
But, then there was the pain. There is always the pain. The snow was heavy. Ice and slush. She persevered. Then she came home and did some homework, and had dinner. It started with the elbow. Then the knee. Darn Celebrex just can’t cover it all anymore. A rub from Daddy and a Tylenol with the nighttime pills. Hopefully she is not too stiff for her swim meet tomorrow.
My big girl. Finding her way. Strong willed and determined. Brave and in pain. Stubborn, and refusing to quit. Cowden’s Syndrome will never own her. It will never leave her, but it will not determine her movements. Tonight even through the pain there was talk of “next time when I shovel.” She keeps me motivated.
The chiropractor told me not to shovel. But that was yesterday. She also told me that the degenerating disks in my back are likely a direct result of the car accident in November. Ok, so that explains the pain. But really I will not go quietly either. Cowden’s Syndrome has created havoc in my body. But I will not retreat. Nor will I surrender.
I am leading an army of 2. We will hold each other when we need to, but we will soldier on.
A year ago this evening I was pacing the floors. Making sure Meghan was packed for school. Triple checking my hospital bag. Planning my last meal by midnight, and pacing the floors – quite sure I wouldn’t sleep.
I was right.
I hadn’t arrived at that moment in my life by accident. It was the result of years of breast biopsies for suspicious masses. MRIs, sonograms, mammograms – and a mother who was a bilateral breast cancer survivor. Not to mention my diagnosis of Cowden’s Syndrome that had been confirmed only months before I met the warm, caring, and decisive surgeon that was about to remove part of my body. Don’t wait till the summer – she somehow convinced me. March 5th. Get it done.
One year ago, on the morning of March 5th 2012, after vomiting repeatedly from terror, my husband and I left and headed to NYU hospital for my “prophylactic bilateral mastectomy.”
We checked in by 6 AM. I can remember every detail of the morning. It is imprinted in my subconsciousness. It may fade over time – but for now…
My brother in law called my cell phone by six. We prayed together. Then, I just focused on breathing.
Checking in takes forever. Everyone stopping in. Lots of waiting. I paced that small room so many times I swear my footprints are probably still there.
And my husband – my pillar of strength – just waited with me. When I wanted him to pay attention – he stopped and held my hand. When I wanted him to ignore me, he dutifully read comics on his iphone. I would not have wanted to be him.
I had to explain to the resident filling out the paper that I was not having “tissue expanders” put in. Well this was not an easy concept for him. Apparently that is just what everyone does. The expanders are placed during the mastectomy, and then “filled” until the tissue expands to the size you would like, and then the silicone is placed.
Well I had already had a long talk with my plastic surgeon. I had no desire to have giant boobs. Nope. I was sure.
She can keep her award…
At 38 years old, and the mother of a nervous 8 year old, all I wanted was to leave the hospital and not have to return for another surgery. (The sweet irony of that wasn’t realized until I returned 10 weeks later for my hysterectomy… but anyway)
I had convinced the plastic surgeon to use whatever silicone implant she could – and put them right in. After a lengthy discussion, she agreed. It was more important for me to get right home to Meghan.
This resident was having a hard time wrapping his head around this, but finally we got the papers right. They were to put in whatever one of these fit best – preferably a matched pair.
Finally it was time to head to the operating room.
I have had lots and lots of surgeries, but the thought that I was engaging in such a major procedure “prophylactic-ally” was literally making me weak at the knees. Fortunately I managed to hook up with an absolutely awesome surgeon/plastic surgeon team. Two women who are talented, compassionate, and understanding. They gave me the peace of mind I needed right before the anesthesia. The last words I recall before I woke up – “You’re doing the right thing.”
They expected a “clean easy procedure.” After all I had had an MRI just a month prior to confirm I was cancer free.
Recovery from anesthesia isn’t my forte, although I have improved with experience. I got to visit with my sister, and enjoy my husband.
The peace I felt after this surgery can not be understated. I was so relieved. The storm had been calmed. It was done.
I left the hospital about 28 hours later on March 6th. I couldn’t wait to see my girl. The drains were still in place and they would stay for another week, but the hardest of the hard work was done.
So, on March 5th – my boobs are officially a year old. At least that’s the day I adopted them.
And what a year it has been.
A roller coaster ride!
A week after my “prophylactic” mastectomy, I held in my hands a pathology report that clearly stated I had DCIS – early stage Breast Cancer. Among the other “precancerous” conditions embedded in that report was the reality that I no longer had to be concerned with the “what if?” It was done. I was OK. By the Grace of God alone – the cancer was out before it was ever a problem. And, whenever I doubt, or get angry or frustrated by our Cowden’s Syndrome journey, I am reminded of that moment. Without Meghan, and without her diagnosis. I would have never proceeded with such an aggressive surgery. God gave me my little girl, and spared my life. We will use that gift as often as we can.
The weeks of recovery went smoothly, with lots of help from mom.
And then it seemed – no sooner was I back at work, that I was being told by another surgeon that I NEEDED a complete hysterectomy – now. So, in May we went back. This time at least everything was benign.
This is the year that included 2 surgeries for Mom and a thyroid biopsy for Meghan. It included a car accident that I am still healing from. (And the very first thing I checked after I realized I had been in an accident was that my silicone was intact!)
I really did love my Hyundai
It included Grandma’s fall, and ongoing recovery.
It included circumstances that caused me to step away from my church, and blessings that led me to a new one.
This year I laughed deep laughs, and I cried gut wrenching tears. I got re-acquainted with old friends, and I met new friends in support groups online.
This year I learned there are some benefits to small silicone boobs… (with no nipples!) I got to go bra-less for the first time in YEARS!
This year we vowed to make a difference,
This year we gave out over 2,000 denim ribbons, and taught a whole lot of people about Cowden’s Syndrome and Rare Diseases, and the Global Genes Project.
This year was only the beginning of the rest of our lives.
One year without my old boobs. One year with the new and improved CANCER FREE version. One year of countless blessings. One year of boobs that will never sag!
Sometimes little kids can be misguided. Sometimes, Mom, Dad, or teacher is in fact the BOSS of them. But that statement from the mouth of a child is the beginning of their move towards independent thought. And, if nurtured properly can lead to a productive, independent, determined adult.
That’s what we are getting at here.
You see I spend enough time around children, that their words and phrases sometimes stick with me. And this one is stuck with me this weekend. So I reflect how it applies to my 9 and a half year old daughter and my 39 and a half year old self.
See, even though Meghan is very good at realizing I am often the BOSS of her, she will not be easily ruled. And while I love her independence, I love more the fact that she remains respectful towards her father and I – and dare I say, all the adults she deals with. She, as an only child has lots of bosses, but I encourage her to rise up against the tyrant that is Cowden’s Syndrome – and she does.
If Cowden’s Syndrome were her boss, she would sit idly by while the pain persisted; in the knees, the ankle, the shoulder, the wrist or whatever joint it currently is attempting a choke hold on.
But, since its not – she goes to dance class on Monday, Swim practice on Tuesday, Music and Movement on Thursday, and Swim Meets on the weekend. She often cries in pain in the hours following these events. But never once does she talk of stopping.
You see, Cowden’s Syndrome is not the boss of her.
Cowden’s Syndrome would have her hide in a corner, ashamed of an “orphan” disease that no one can really understand. But hiding is not for my girl. Instead she asks for a denim ribbon necklace. She learns about the Global Genes Project, she understands “Rare Disease Day,” and she actively participates in the “Wear that you Care” campaign. She makes thousands of denim ribbons, and informational fliers. She gives 2 speeches at her school. She even wrote a book about it. HA! Don’t tell her no one really knows about Cowden’s Syndrome – because she will take it as a challenge, and fix it.
A denim cause ribbon, crafted after the Global Genes Project’s slogan, “Hope it’s in our Genes!”
Cowden’s Syndrome – with its biopsies and cancer risks would like to leave us terrified. Instead, we are empowered. Meghan got the anesthesia she needed and deserved, to have her last thyroid biopsy with dignity. The terror is gone. We will have anesthesia next time too. And, if the cancer hits – we are ready. We are empowered.
Cowden’s Syndrome – You’re NOT the boss of us.
You certainly don’t rule me. 85% risk of breast cancer – yeah, so? Endometrial cancer? Nope – don’t need that either. Thyroid cancer – half gone already, and checked every 6 months. Melanoma – nope. And annual skin exams just to be sure. Colonoscopy – did that. Clean enough to wait until 2015. My spleen – well. That’s still in limbo. But you know what? Whatever. I have stared down worse.
Just came back from my girl’s first swim meet. Time to relish in the satisfaction that something normal happened here today. We will handle the pain, with the smile of knowing – she’s pretty fast.
I know you’re staying Cowden’s Syndrome. I know we can’t ever get rid of you. But, seriously. Unpack in the basement closet and stay away from us.
After a ton of work uploading the video of Meghan’s speech on “Rare Disease Day,” we got it to the Facebook page – Beating Cowdens. She spoke for all those who suffer from rare diseases, with poise – and HOPE.
It is about 5 minutes, but the proud Mom in me couldn’t resist.
Tonight though I have to send you backwards to Facebook to view it.
And, while you are there, if you are a Facebook user – “like” our page.
We left the house today with only the normal jitters. We even had time for a few family photos.
I have been teaching for 16 years.
I have addressed hundreds of students, if not thousands through the years.
I pride myself on being able to get their attention with minimal effort, and keeping it in most cases.
Sometimes it can be a bit more trying – like a full auditorium, as opposed to a closed classroom, but with the right presence and message, it can be done.
I did not get to hear Meghan’s speech today first hand. I was thrilled to see her happy smile when I picked her up. I knew she felt it had gone well, and that was most of the battle won.
While she was doing her homework I watched the recording her para had kindly made for me. I was awestruck.
Not only was I impressed with my little girl, and the clam, confident way she spoke, I was AMAZED by the quiet in the auditorium.
Now I know they are taught good manners, but this went beyond that. She HAD them. They cared about what she was saying. They were interested to learn about Cowden’s Syndrome. They were hanging on her words. The applause at the end confirmed it. She nailed it. Public speaking is not an issue for my girl.
The day followed with a Skype call to her friend Connor in Colorado. They struggled with the video feed, but they had audio and will try again next week for the video.
I know its only the US, but “Rare Disorders without Borders” here we come!
HUGE smile. Giant fatigue. Her day was a success. And now, tomorrow, she will give her speech all over again to the 4th and 5th graders – her peers. May it run just as smoothly!
Meanwhile, back at my school – the ribbons were distributed. The jeans were on. The kids were charged.
Many of them even decorated their doors with the Global Genes Project – denim ribbons. This was a huge school spirit event. I received cards, letters, and even a pack of thank you notes from one class. It was beyond touching to see my colleagues, supervisor, and students, all in their jeans with their denim ribbons.
“Hope it’s in our Genes”
We clearly are not alone.
My Mom and I
All day long the photos came in. My Facebook page was hopping.
My nephew’s PreK staff on Long Island, my friend’s Catholic School on Staten Island, a few ribbons to a local HS, junior class at another school wearing theirs to support a family member. My sister had hers at work, and so did some dear friends.
“Next year…”
Next year can we do a fund raiser too?
Next year can we involve more schools? Maybe all of Staten Island?
Next year…
I got tons of requests, and offers of help. We know LOTS of really great people.
Next year, maybe we will help raise awareness even more.
But this year, tonight. I am tired.
I am grateful.
We are smiling. We are blessed.
Right now, Tylenol for her pain. TLC for her nerves.
Yesterday was another trip to the rheumatologist. She is lovely, but hasn’t a bit of a clue why Meghan’s pain persists – often through the Celebrex, and ALWAYS without it.
She prescribes the medicine. She examines her. She sees no signs of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis.
We speak for a little bit about Cowden’s Syndrome, her thyroid, and some of the other battles she has endured. I ask the doctor if this could all be related.
And she, candidly, honestly replies, “I don’t know. I am starting to think there is some link, but I don’t know enough about your syndrome to put it together.”
Well at least she is honest. But it is tiresome. The traveling. The doctors. The lack of answers.
So tonight, as I gave Meghan Tylenol after swim practice because the knee pain wouldn’t cut her a break. We turned our thoughts to tomorrrow, and the 6th Annual World Rare Disease Day.
This year’s motto is “Rare Disorders without Borders.” It got Meghan and I to thinking about how nice it would be if doctors in all the countries would share their research. There are so many rare diseases throughout the world. So many more dire than our own. There are so few people even looking for cures. As she chats and gets to know a girl in Australia with Cowden’s, we can’t help but think about how much more voice each of our disorders would have “without borders.”
We talked a little about the newspaper article, and how it has helped spread awareness in out community. We talked about all the ribbons we have made and distributed, and how nice it will be to see them tomorrow, and know we are not alone. We have raised awareness of Rare Diseases, and we have only just begun.
Meghan, and her determination will see her dream of the “One of a kind” necklace with the Global Genes Project Logo, find its way into their new store. She will see more and more people recognizing that “Hope is in our Genes,” and the denim ribbon gives an identity to those who too often have none.
Tomorrow people will understand what it means to “Wear That You Care,” as they don their jeans locally and globally.
My daughter, one of the compassionate people I know, is also the least judgmental. She is kind. Because she knows what it means to need kindness. She is kind because she has faith, and wisdom gifted to her. She is kind because, “You can’t tell by looking at someone if they are sick or in pain.”
We share a genetic mutation. I am her mother. She is my role model and my hero.
Maybe tonight I would have to call Meghan the “Guest Blogger.”
What you read below is her speech. She was asked to prepare something to read for her school for “Rare Disease Day” on Thursday. She is an excellent public speaker, and fights only a few “butterflies” before she speaks. She always makes me so proud. I wish I could be there!
The text of the speech was written by her. I typed it, and then she went back in and changed it again. I added the pictures… just for here – because I like to!
She will review the speech with her principal tomorrow, but I don’t expect many changes.
Some of you, who know me, know me as Meghan Ortega. Or, maybe you know me as Meghan from 4th grade, or Meghan from Mrs. Worsdale’s and Mrs. LaMonaca’s class.
You might, if you know me a little better, know me as Meghan who loves to read, and swim. You might know me as Meghan who loves dogs.
Maybe you know that I have 2 dogs that I love, and a mom who is a teacher and a dad who is an electrician.
Lucky, Meghan and Allie – My three girls
But, until today, very few of you knew that I am Meghan Ortega and I suffer with a Rare Disease called Cowden’s Syndrome.
Until September of 2011 I didn’t know I had this Rare Disease. What I did know was that something was wrong and my body was far from that of a “normal” kid.
For as long as I can remember, every week of my life has included AT LEAST one doctor’s appointment, and lots of times even more.
You’ve all been to the doctor and you know it’s not fun. It involves waiting and waiting…and even more waiting. It also involves poking and prodding. For me, it often means being sent to more and more and more doctors…
My mom says when I was a baby I wasn’t really comfortable, and I cried all the time. I almost never slept, and wouldn’t drink my bottle.
When we talk about it now, we think my body knew I couldn’t handle dairy products, and dairy is in milk.
Mom also tells me that I started seeing lots of doctors when I was just a few weeks old. Soon there were doctors to check almost every part of my body.
I have had 9 surgeries. I remember having my gall bladder out before I turned 4. I also had a lipoma (a soft tissue tumor that people with Cowden’s Syndrome get.)
I had knee surgery 4 times for an AVM in my right knee. An AVM is a vascular malformation. It is also common in Cowden’s Syndrome. It feels very strange because it pulses like your heart beat. Every time I had that surgery the doctor thought I wouldn’t need another one. But they have already done 4, and they are not sure if the AVM will ever go away, so I will probably need more.
Because I am in pain so much, I get physical therapy in and out of school. My outside physical therapist, Dr. Jill told Mom that she should take me to see a geneticist. I didn’t really understand what that was, but we went because that is just what I do.
Dr.Pappas at NYU was really nice. He examined me and he talked to me and mom. When he was done he drew some blood. He said he was pretty sure of what I had, but we had to wait for the test results.
In September of 2011, just as I was starting 3rd grade, we went back to his office and he told us that I have Cowden’s Syndrome. It means that my PTEN gene is broken. Your body is made up of all sorts of genes, but these are G-E-N-E-S, not J-E-A-N-S like the ones you wear. PTEN is the gene that keeps your body from growing tumors. Because mine is broken I get more growths, like the AVM, the lipoma, and the nodules on my thyroid that I have to have checked every 6 months.
As soon as I was diagnosed, the doctor talked to my mom and said she probably had Cowden’s too. He took her blood and a few weeks later she tested positive.
Because of the Cowden’s my mom had lots of tests done, and it explained a lot of things about the 17 surgeries she has had. On March 5th it will be a year since she had surgery for breast cancer. She is just fine. She says that knowing she had Cowden’s helped her find it early. She says to everyone that my diagnosis saved her life.
When I am here at school I smile a lot. I don’t like to dwell on anything bad. We spend enough time with doctors so I try to enjoy my time with kids.
You would probably never know by looking at me, that I am in pain a lot. I take medicine every day that helps my joints hurt less than they used to, but still most days I have pain. It is hard for me to climb up the stairs, and play at recess, but I do it.
We first heard about “World Rare Disease Day” last year, but at the time we were a little too stunned to do anything about it.
This year I told my mom I wanted to do something to make people more aware of Cowden’s Syndrome and all rare diseases. I was not ready yet to do a fund raiser – I just wanted to get the word out that Rare Diseases like ours exist. There are over 7,000 of them!
I shared my idea with Mrs. Manfredi and she said I could give out the ribbons and information you received today. I was really excited.
“Hope it’s in our genes” is the motto of the Global Genes Project. They try to raise awareness and find cures for all rare diseases.
Today I think it’s important for you to know you can’t ever really judge someone by how they look on the outside. You never know what’s going on inside of them.
What she does have is strength, stamina, and courage unrivaled by most. She is a tough cookie. An inspiration with her determination. Not once throughout her life have I ever known her to give up.
Mom is a survivor.
Long before she was a breast cancer survivor, she was a survivor of life.
She survived a divorce, two jobs, and raising 2 kids alone – with the help of my grandparents.
She survived sleepless nights, and worry.
She battled for her kids- fought doctors, insurance companies and the like. And, she even battled with us on occasion… If you can imagine that!
Long before she was a breast cancer survivor, she was my Mom. And she taught some valuable lessons I still use today.
(My sister posted the other day that “Some days I open my mouth and my mother comes out!”)
These are her words coming out of me these days….
But God is good – all the time!
And….
I really think I am OK with this concept, but we all need a reminder sometimes!
When my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer I was 23. I was scared. She might have been scared, but she attacked it with her “matter of fact” attitude that I think is what has gotten her so far.
She went for her first mastectomy on February 24th of 1997. She was just 48. The second mastectomy followed in April when cancer was found in the other breast. 6 months of chemo followed. 5 years of Tamoxifen followed that.
And she just kept right on going. Even though some days she felt like this…
Truth be told, maybe we all did. But I did what I could to help out with her, around the house, and with my little sister. I was really just amazed by her drive. But I think I still am.
Last year when I was scheduled for my mastectomy, the surgeon asked me who had been with my mother during hers. I told her my dad and I had. She said, “Well call mom and tell her its time to return the favor.”
I called her on the ride home and although I can’t imagine it was an easy call to take. She never flinched. She took the week off that I had the surgery (a HUGE compliment from someone who sparsely misses a day of work.) My recovery went so smoothly. And I had some of the best conversations of my life with Mom that week.
When my pathology returned DCIS, she was the first one I called. Neither of us were surprised. And, yet her reassuring words, that she knew I had “done the right thing,” gave me such peace.
Before Mom was diagnosed she dreaded turning 50. After all she had been through she embraced 50 with grace and charm, and a few years ago gave 60 a great big hug.
Mom’s 64th birthday – and 4 generations of tough ladies!
This is a picture from her 64th birthday a few weeks ago.
My mom may not be like everyone else’s. She can be a tough lady. She hasn’t had an easy life. But she has a heart of gold. And I love her for who she is.
As I grow I realize everyone does the best they can with what they have where they are.
I am thankful – so thankful – for these last 16 years with my Mom. I am grateful she got to know my daughter. I look forward to having her around for a long time.
A mother bonds with all her children, and she is close with my sisters – differently than how we are close. That’s what makes each relationship special.
We share some things that can’t be put into words…
Just past the finish line. Aren’t we “Pretty in Pink?” 🙂
She will always be my friend. I hope she knows just how much she is loved.
beatingcowdens 