Rebecca Is Gone, But We Can Help Save Other Children. Please Help My Wife.

So anyone who’s been reading this blog over the last year will know what happened to my goddaughter Rebecca.  A bright girl.  The funniest and sarcastic five-year-old you’d ever meet.  the kind of clever and bright girl who was destined for grand adventures.
Except what she was actually destined for was a brain tumor, which killed her on her sixth birthday.
Fuck destiny.
Right now, there are other kids who are also dying from cancer.  And science, blessed wonderful science, is working overtime to look destiny in the face and go “Fuck you, destiny, we have a child who’s going to live.”
But that magic takes money.
And my wife is raising that money, by doing the annual walk for Rebecca, and asking you to donate.  This is a rough, rough time on Gini; last year, this time, Rebecca was alive and doing well and we foolishly thought we were going to beat this.  And under a purple canopy, in a room full of people who would have sacrificed their lives for her, we found out just how wrong we were.  And that knowledge has eroded all of us, eaten our sanity, knowing that there was nothing we could do but hold her when she died.
There will be fucking other kids who die from this.  But I am asking you to look in the teeth of this fate and say, “Not today,” and donate what you can to take some family with a child who would die without the next breakthrough and make this a literal history.  I am asking you to take a dollar, five dollars, whatever you’ve got to shift the difference from “She died” to “She had a really rough patch when she was six, but look at her now!”
I am asking you to give because thanks to a convention commitment on my part, Gini will be doing this walk alone and grieving, and every dollar you give her will tell her that she is not alone.  That you cared.  That you remembered Rebecca and did what you could to help.
So please.  Share.  Retweet.  Give.  Do whatever you can.
Because there is only one God, and that God is Death, and what we say to Death is “Not today.”  We could not shout loud enough to save Rebecca.  But when humanity shouts it shouts with doctors, and medicines, and hospitals, and I ask you to raise your funds and raise your voices to silence that horrible future for some other set of parents now who, looking at their baby in the arms, does not know what is about to hit them.
Save her.  Fucking save her.