Christmas 2011

For us, Henry is still the centerpiece of every Christmas. Dad still goes to the same department store where he and Henry would go to pick out earrings for Mama, and Mama looks out for the things Henry would pick out for Dad:

We visit Henry's special spots around town.

And every year we revisit this post from 2009.

Sweet Baby Boy

We found this in our inbox this morning:

hey there Cermaks... i was just reading over the blog. still check it out occasionally... and just wanted to scoot u guys an email and say hello and let u know i still think about your sweet baby boy!!! i was a student when i met Henry, but he brought so much joy and made all the stresses of school so worth it. and was a quick reminder of y i chose this field... i so looked forward to going to clinic everyday to c what jokes and stories Henry had to tell us. he was such a happy fella... i wish i knew him longer and not just at clinic. but n that little time i got to know him... i learned he was a very smart, sweet, special boy! i just want to thank u guys for allowing me to b a special part of your SPECIAL boys life. i will never forget u guys and especially not your little man. take care... and i'll keep checking in... here's a pic of us and our daves... which i still have n my car on my odometer, so i c him EVERYDAY... still!!! i think of your special boy EVERYDAY! he made a huge impact n my life...

love Meg...

Happy Mother's Day

"The real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men - from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms." ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

Happy Birthday Henry

Henry's 15th year began as a gray and drizzly day.

On his birthday we remember Henry by visiting several memorials we have for him around town. We have his bench at Dolphin Head, a brick with his name at the Arts Center and another at the Children's Memorial Garden.

The local hospital is not a place of fond memories. It was this emergency room where we first leaned of Henry's tumor. It was where the 911 ambulance took him after he lost consciousness from medication. It was where we took Henry after he began hemorrhaging blood.

But on these otherwise tainted grounds is a lovely place where we find some comfort and reflection.


We visited the local high school where Henry would have been this year and were cheered by his friends who remembered him with gray ribbons and some stickers we had made.

This year Henry's birthday fell on the occasion of the local Relay For Life. Through some coincidence, the theme for this year's relay was "Happy Birthday'" meant to signify the new life accorded to cancer survivors. But as we walked the grounds on the day that started so dreary, and saw the birthday candles on the cupcakes, the banners calling out "Happy Birthday," and joined the assemblage on this now beautiful, cool evening as they sang the well-worn tune, we couldn't help but sense an invisible nod to Henry's day.

"Happy Birthday, Dear Henry, Happy Birthday to You..."

Veteran's Day

We left the house at about 9:45 am on November 11 and headed out to the small marina about ten miles from our house. We met Captain Adam, boyish and affable, who led us down the dock to the small powerboat waiting for us.

It was a brilliant morning as our boat left the dock and made its way slowly through the no-wake zones and out of Skull Creek. As we drifted by we observed some of our local hangouts: restaurants, the docks where we enjoyed the annual water festival, and the area where the community gathers every year for Fourth of July fireworks.

We were accompanied by a host of waterfowl, mostly pelicans seeking out an early lunch, and we were greeted by a small group of dolphins playfully passing by.

As we approached Port Royal Sound, Captain Adam sped up and masterfully guided the boat into the deep water off of Dolphin Head. It was just approaching 11:00 am as he positioned the boat with its bow facing a strip of beach where we walk to the "Wishing Tree," an old dried up trunk with a spiderweb of branches that we decorate with sea shells.

Off the port side we could locate the Dolphin Head playground and we could see the forked tree that frames our bench.

Mama opened her canvas carrying case and lovingly lifted out the simple wooden box.

"Are we sure?"

"Yes we are. It's good."

As the gentle wind from the northeast suddenly subsided, we opened the box and, at exactly eleven minutes after the hour, we spread our precious cargo into the water.

We sprinkled some rose petals, followed by hydrangea blooms. We tossed buds of begonias and baby white flowers from our garden. We saved the rosemary for last.

As the sun shone like glittering silver on the water, we watched as the floating petals drifted out to sea.

During the slow ride back to the marina, the dolphins waved goodbye.

Henry was a veteran too.

Someone Like You

Time somehow manages to crawl by interminably, and yet we turn around to find that almost three months have disappeared like the spring flora. After the Relay for Life in May, we barely had time to reflect on the Day of Remembrance at St. Jude in June.

The Relay For Life can be a somber experience, but it was so heartening to see, judging by all the luminaires, that Henry is still remembered by so many.

For the Day of Remembrance we spent two days in Memphis. Along with dozens of other families, we set up a display board in the Danny Thomas-ALSAC Pavilion with photos and keepsakes, including some of Henry's drawings and writings.

The room was filled with display boards of children no longer with us. It created a grave and piercing panorama within the otherwise gentle pavilion. We met with several staff members who had vivid, fun, and fond memories of Henry.

We spent several hours attending a group meeting comprised of bereaving parents. It was a difficult time. The meeting was led by a panel of parents who, while offering helpful advice and solace, mostly took the opportunity to tell their personal stories of grief. Our stories are all we have and it helps to tell them to someone who might understand. The families were all so different but we were bound by our loss and were buoyed by each other.

That evening we went back to McKewen's, our favorite Memphis restaurant. We greeted the waitress who befriended Henry on our last visit: it was two years earlier to the day that Henry, Mama, and Dad sat in that restaurant and got the call from Dr. Merchant at St. Jude that Henry's first MRI following treatment showed no signs of tumor.

That day, June 5, 2007, was perhaps our most optimistic day since Henry's diagnosis.

And it was Mama's birthday.

The next day we attended a lovely and heartrending memorial service during which all the attending families submitted flowers as part of a massive bouquet, and watched a slide show where we could see Henry's beautiful face along with all the many other angels.

The ceremony ended outside the pavilion where we all participated in a balloon release. The day was overcast but the clouds were high and we could clearly watch the balloons gracefully fly away until they were too small to see.

Upon returning home, we learned that St. Jude is expanding its "Pathway to Hope" walkway near the main entrance of the hospital. Donors may purchase inscribed bricks to honor loved ones and we decided to purchase one for Henry. When we return to St. Jude in the future, and we probably will, it will mean so much to see his name memorialized in a place so dedicated to treating kids like him.

Now, facing the summer's last hot breath, we turn towards September. In another example of grim symmetry, the anniversary of Henry's passing falls in Pediatric Cancer Awareness Month. We learned that the Atlanta-based organization, the Brain Tumor Foundation for Children, is hosting their annual William's Walk & Run on September 11 in Alpharetta, which is Cousin Penton's home town. The BTFC helped us out financially when we were in treatment in Savannah, so we eagerly signed up to walk in the race. After we registered, we received a call from the Family Coordinator who, noting that we are from South Carolina, told us about a new partnership between the BTFC and a South Carolina family that has started a foundation in honor of their daughter who died of ependymoma shortly after Henry. Their foundation, Carly's Rays of Hope, provides assistance and support for South Carolina families facing pediatric brain cancer. They are having a fundraiser this weekend in their hometown of Aiken, about three hours from us, and will be including Henry in their story as an example of the families they can help, and we will be meeting them this Sunday.

Come September, we hope anyone willing and able will honor Henry during this noteworthy month by sponsoring our team during William's Walk and Run. You can sign up at http://www.firstgiving.com/henrycermak.

Remember The Lorax:

"UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

Happy Birthday Henry

Henry would have been 14 years old today.

Henry's birthday falls in Brain Tumor Awareness Month, and we have been distributing stickers and buttons that remember Henry and spread the word. May is also when the local Relay For Life occurs and we have prepared our white paper luminaires with Henry's name and likeness to line the walking track.

This June we will be traveling to Memphis to attend a day of remembrance at St. Jude. We hope to revisit some of Henry's favorite places - if we can bear.

Duke is also hosting a day of remembrance this summer. We are sending some photos to be included in their slide show, but uncertain if we can attend. Nevertheless, keeping Henry's memory and inspiration alive remains our constant desire.

Last week we attended a small service at the Children's Memorial Garden. The Memorial Garden is a lovely, well-cared for little space on the grounds of our local hospital. There is a circle of pavers engraved with the names of children to be remembered. We didn't even know about this worthy endeavor until we were contacted through the middle school a couple of weeks ago and offered Henry's original paver that was being replaced due to an incorrect font.

We met several parents who have lost children - many of whom died very suddenly and violently. It reminded us that - horrific as our situation was, and is, we at least had some time: time to devote to one another, time to enjoy life together, and time to tell each other (as often as we could) that we loved each other. That time was a precious gift...a gift we relive every single day.