And enough.

In March of 2005, I lost one of my dearest friends. My cooking buddy. My business partner. A girl who stood up for me on my wedding day, and spent the night before stuffed into bed with me as we giggled about weddings and babies and boys.

She was an artist, a singer, and my brother's fiance.

She died ten days after he asked her to marry him.

My voice still cracks when I say her name.

I still remember the day I had to watch my little brother carry her urn down the aisle of the church.

I remember what he was wearing, I remember the song that was playing when I got into the car to drive to the cemetery, I remember the rain.

It was too sad for even the sun that day.

It took me two days and the snot covered sleeves of three different sweatshirts to get through writing this post.

My Oma, my grandma, my uncle, acquaintances, friends of friends of friends, people I never had the chance to meet face to face.

I mourn them all the same.

I am still not numb to losing someone to cancer.

I still kiss the cheeks of my kids as they sleep, praying for their health and long lives. I scrutinize ever fever, every bump, every ear ache.

It's a hurt I want to be done feeling. A hurt I want everyone to be done feeling.

So, let's do that. Let's be done with this.

It takes drive, conviction, money and...sometimes hair.

Mad props to Jay from Halftime Lessons for his second annual participation in the St. Baldricks head shaving event to raise money for childhood cancer. I urge you to join me in supporting him and his cause, our cause, your cause.

I don't know a single person who isn't carrying around a story that still makes them cry so hard their insides shake.

This is a cause I am more than happy to voice and support.

Plus, it gets the whole floor pooping thing out of the immediate headlines.

Because with each passing day, I totally get more paranoid, man.

I don't need any revenge scat.