Dear Henry

I had been pretty sad for a couple of weeks last month and then I pulled myself out of it. I really don't know what was wrong. I got a little worried so I went to talk to the person who is like a doctor who helps me with these things. I told her what was going on and she said it sounded like I was dysthymic, which means sad, but not so super sad that you need medicine or anything.

I've never heard that word before. I doubt I'd ever use it in conversation.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

"Oh, I am feeling kinda dysthymic today."

And then just as I had gotten sad, I started to get happy again. Today has been a day when I got sad again, but I don't think it will last too long. When I get like I am today, I feel like I have had the wind knocked out of me. Remember when you fell off the playground equipment at Adas and they called the Emergency Squad. I think you must have had the wind knocked out of you.

Another thing that made me sad this morning is an advertisement I read in the newspaper. It seems that this girl named Alexandra Scott, who was just a little bit older than you (Jack is now older than you ever were - Mom pointed that out to me the other day) died on August 1.

The advertisement was taken out by a car company called, Volvo. The ad said,

Life dealt Alex the most "bitter" of lemons yet she made out of her life the sweetest lemonade. She captures our hearts. She inspired us with her ability to live life to the fullest, to help others. In doing so, she humbled us.

The other day when I went to Georgetown to drop off band-aids, I picked this brochure up at the front desk of the clinic.



I read it and thought it was really great what Alex was doing. I figured that she was going to be okay. I also thought of you because Mommy had written this for the Hope for Henry Foundation.

Henry embraced each opportunity for living completely and reminded the rest of us to do so. His sparkly eyes, mischievous grin and infectious smile taught us the importance of maintaining normalcy within the family unit in a life fraught with illness and uncertainty. He had ice cream for dinner and transitioned from the hospital to running a lemonade stand in a matter of minutes. He did all these things because at that moment in time he could – and because he knew enough to go when the going was good. HFHF will continue Henry’s magical way of making each day matter.

I won't be sad long this time. We are going on vacation to the beach. You can't be sad at a place called "Funland," right.