The first time I shared Zeke with you, he was 3 years old, dressed in one of his little suits and fedoras, fighting a brain tumor while his family prayed he would get the chance to simply grow up.
The first time I shared Zeke with you, he was 3 years old, dressed in one of his little suits and fedoras, fighting a brain tumor while his family prayed he would get the chance to simply grow up.
Look at the photo now.
I wish I had a different update to share with you.
Zeke is now 5, and after three years of fighting brain cancer, his family says hospice nurses are providing around-the-clock care as they try to keep him comfortable at the end of his life.
David reached out to me in South Texas this morning asking if we could surround this little boy and his family again.
He says Zeke began having seizures Monday.
Now, nurses are with him 24 hours a day.
It is difficult to reconcile that reality with the little boy so many of you first met on my page two years ago.
Back then, I called him an “extremely handsome 3-year-old,” because just look at him.
The fedora.
The matching shirt.
The vest and tie.
That was Zeke.
His family says he loves toy cars and swimming, and he became known for rocking his fedoras and suits.
But behind that smile was a fight no toddler should ever have been asked to endure.
Zeke was diagnosed with brain cancer when he was only 2 years old.
For the next three years, he fought.
His family fought beside him.
And people prayed for the day when cancer would become something Zeke had survived rather than something that continued stealing pieces of his childhood.
Now, his family has reached the place they desperately hoped would never come.
Hospice.
End-of-life care.
Comfort.
And time together for however long they are given.
There is something especially painful about seeing these photographs side by side.
One captures the little boy his family wants the world to know.
The other captures what this disease has put him through.
But they are both Zeke.
And cancer doesn’t get to define the little boy underneath that oxygen mask.
He is still the child who brought light and laughter to the people around him.
Still the little boy who loved swimming and toy cars.
Still the sharply dressed kid in the fedora.
Two years ago, I asked all of you to rally behind Zeke with words of encouragement.
Tonight, I’m asking you to do it again, but this time his family needs something even more powerful.
Prayer.
Please pray for Zeke to be free from pain and surrounded by peace.
Pray for the nurses caring for him.
Pray for the family sitting beside a 5-year-old they have spent three years desperately trying to save.
And pray for strength in the moments ahead that no parent or family should ever have to face.
