I've just spent an hour crying and I can't stop, so I'm going to write to you.
I watched the first video I took of you. You looked like an alien. You didn't say much.
Then I watched your last video, shaking that maraca for the music man in Orlando. You still didn't have anything to say. You didn't need to.
What I wouldn't give to look into your eyes again.
We're doing a good job of keeping busy without you. This weekend there's an online auction raising money for the Alberta Children's Hospital in your name. Team #dominicstrong has already raised US$34,000, and your mom's going to shave her head next weekend. We both dyed our hair (mom's hair, my goatee) as part of the campaign, and I'll wax my back if we hit US$45,000.
You're not here and I'm still so proud of you. I hope you'd be proud of us. We're doing all we can.
It'll never be enough.
More than the fundraising, we wanted a place to remember you by. Remember the big green belt right out the back gate of our house in Medicine Hat? You never got to play at the little park out there, but we can see it from our deck. There's a structure to climb on and a thing that spins around. I can imagine you laughing on it. And your mom and I would sit on the bench and smile.
We got a new bench put in there today. And a plaque we had designed. It's got a thumbs-up and the super-D logo (that your mom also got a tattoo of!), and reads: "Dominic Rooney; Oct. 12, 2012 - Sept. 3, 2015; Cancer took his life, not his joy; Forever #dominicstrong."
There was also a huge tree that overlooked the area, but it blew down this summer. If they put up a new one in the spring we'll think of it as yours.
I'm going back to Calgary this weekend, but your mom's not coming. We were there a couple weeks ago and went to the hospital to see all your friends. They wanted to let you know they miss you too. Then we saw even more friends at the Light the Night walk for leukemia. They wish you could've been there. And finally we went to Airdrie where our friends raised money for us.
Dom, you made so many friends. And we're all always going to miss you. Mom doesn't want to go back to Calgary because it makes her so sad. I guess I'm lucky, no place seems any worse than another for me.
What are we going to do? Keep pushing forward, I guess. Not much else we can do.