WHERE IT ALL BEGAN
For as long as I can remember, I wished for a little brother. I whispered his name to every shooting star and made silent wishes at 11:11.
I vividly recall the first time I held Max — he became a light in my world. My heart melted. He was everything I had dreamed of and more: pure light, pure joy. I envisioned a childhood filled with laughter, adventures, and memories we'd collect together. And for a while, we got exactly that.
"On February 24th, 2021, everything changed."
Max was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia at just three years old. We went from playgrounds and birthday candles to hospital rooms and chemotherapy infusions. That day, my world split in two — the life we once had, and the one we had to learn to survive in.
I believe there are moments that split our lives in two: before and after. Before my brother's diagnosis, cancer was a word that happened to other families. After, it became the lens through which I viewed everything.
There were so many firsts that year. The first time I saw him cry out in agony. The first time I watched his hair fall. The first time I visited him in the hospital, pretending to be brave while my heart quietly broke.
Cancer taught me thousands of things, but most important of all it demonstrated how humanity — how every individual — is connected by invisible threads. Sometimes, we only feel them when they're pulled taut by circumstances we never asked for.
I often wondered: why him? Why not me? I had to sit with those questions while learning that there are no satisfying answers.
"Seeing my brother walk on the thin line between life and death only propelled me to ensure that no other child would have to do the same."
I began channeling my pain into purpose. I got involved with The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and, for the first time, realized the impact one voice could make. Through the Student Visionaries of the Year campaign, I raised $179,000 for cancer research and support.
I didn't stop there. In the months that followed, I continued fundraising so I could build something of my own — something bigger than me. I worked with other foundations, learning the skills, tools, and heart it takes to turn passion into action. Those years became my training ground. And that work led to the creation of the 501(c)(3) nonprofit now known as The Max Strong Project.
Altogether, I've raised nearly $190,000 — not for recognition, but because I knew every dollar brought us closer to a world where kids like Max could grow up without fear.
Max's journey wasn't just hard. It was harrowing. There were days when he couldn't walk. Days when he couldn't eat. Days when I wondered if we would ever return to normal, or if "normal" was now a thing of the past. Yet through it all, Max never stopped fighting. His strength and his heart became my light.
And then came June 21st, 2023. I watched through tears as Max rang the bell, signaling the end of treatment. That moment — the sound of it — echoed into every fiber of me. It wasn't just a celebration. It was a vow.
Today it was Max. Tomorrow, it could be someone you love. 16,000 children are diagnosed with cancer each year. That's 44 kids a day. A new diagnosis every three minutes. Look around. Every person reading this is in the before. And life has a way of turning that into after without warning.
So I've made it my mission to ensure no child fights alone. Through The Max Strong Project, I advocate for pediatric cancer patients in underserved communities and empower youth to lead with compassion, courage, and purpose. This isn't just about treatment or funding. It's about honoring the children who give their whole selves to survive — and recognizing that we owe them everything in return.