One more day. With your father. Your son. What would you give? I sat on the edge of Mark’s hospice bed, his hand in mine. I gently brushed the thin, wispy hair back from his forehead. “He’s gone,” the nurse whispered from behind. The words I had feared for five years.
(l-r) Mark’s dad Mike , Mark, and his brother Mike
I have never understood why my son’s fate was to die young. I don’t expect that I will. My name is Mike Stewart. This is the story of Mark. He was my son.
So bright, funny. A regular comedian, and smart as a whip. Successful… respected in his professional career. Mark was that one person in anyone’s life… that one person who makes you believe, who gives you hope, who pulls you through.
But cancer doesn’t discriminate. The diagnosis was real. A parent’s worse fear. Not Mark. Please God, anything but this. Don’t take one of my kids. But I had to be strong for my son. Together, we had to beat this thing. But I was terrified, as any father would be. READ MORE
It’s not always that way. June 30, 2000 – Corey’s 19th birthday. A new high school grad, Santa Clara awaited that fall. This young man exemplified ethics, kindness, quality friends…everything right. We went with Corey to a party at his best friend’s home. READ MORE