Usually, when I sit down to write one of these, I have a clear sense of purpose — a theme that's been sitting with me, something I need to get out. Writing is often the final release that lets me move forward. But this time is different. There’s no single thread tying it all together. Just a lot on my mind, and maybe I’m hoping that getting the words out will help me move through it.
I want to start with an update on our “Hope In Every Spot” event. We’re six weeks out, and honestly, we're feeling really good about where things stand — especially considering this is our first time fundraising in Sofia’s honor.
If you read my last blog or follow me on Instagram, you already know the heart behind this: we're raising money and collecting donations to give thousands of dollars worth of toys, activities, and gift cards to children and families battling cancer at BC Children’s Hospital — just like Sofia once did.
Since announcing the event, we’ve had an Amazon gift registry open so people can contribute instantly, whether or not they plan to attend on May 24th. As of today, 247 gifts have been purchased — every single one will go directly to a child or family at BC Children’s.
We’re beyond grateful to everyone who’s stepped up already.
If you’re reading this and still want to help, there are plenty of items left on our registry — every contribution makes a difference.
As for the event itself, things are coming together nicely. We’ve got a full day of activities for kids already lined up, with even more in the works. If you joined us last year to celebrate Sofia’s life, our goal is to recapture that same energy — fun for kids, engaging, and full of heart.
We’d love for as many of you as possible to join us on May 24th. For more details, check out my previous blog post or visit our event website here.
We just got back from a week in Arizona — and honestly, it was one of the best vacations I’ve ever had.
We spent the first few days in Sierra Vista for my Uncle Wayne’s wedding, and wrapped up the trip in Scottsdale. The main reason for going was to celebrate Wayne and his new wife, Debbie. He’s lived in Arizona for a long time but recently moved to Sierra Vista, a small military town near the Mexican border in the South East region of the state. We didn’t do a lot of sightseeing there, but what we did see was great — and what stood out the most was how friendly the people were.
We stayed at an Airbnb about 10 minutes from Wayne’s place — a cozy, well-decorated rancher with a games room Carter absolutely loved. We shared it with my cousin Jarrod and his wife Angie (visiting from Pennsylvania), and my other uncle, Dave, who’s from Vancouver. It was especially nice reconnecting with Jarrod and Angie — we hadn’t seen them in nearly 10 years. Carter and Jarrod had a little ping pong rivalry going, which we hope to continue if they make it out West. And Dave — well, he’s always been the “funny uncle,” and it was wild seeing him do the same little tricks on Carter that he used to do on me nearly 40 years ago. And yes, they still work — Carter was in stitches.
The wedding itself was a few days into the trip, and it was incredible. I was honored to stand beside Wayne as one of his groomsmen. Wayne is the oldest of four siblings, including my mom. Sadly, he’s now the only one left. My mom passed away in 2018, followed by her sister Deanna a few years later, and Nancy just last year — all from cancer. Standing there beside Wayne, I felt a real mix of grief and gratitude. It meant a lot to represent my mom that day.
After the wedding, we headed north to Scottsdale and stayed at the Great Wolf Lodge — a special treat for Carter. I’d never been to one before and wasn’t sure what to expect, but it blew us away. The indoor water park was a hit, and the activities kept us going from morning to night. The highlight was a blue tube slide the three of us rode together — as we whipped through it, Sam was yelling, “I hate this! I’m never doing this again!” Carter and I were dying laughing… and yes, she went on it again — yelling the same thing all over again. It’s a memory we’ll hold onto forever.
We also went to a Diamondbacks game, sitting just a few rows back from the left field wall where Carter got to watch Zac Gallen warm up. Sam managed to get a game ball tossed up to Carter, which was a cool addition to his collection. The D-backs lost to the Orioles 5–1, but the experience was awesome — and I’m one stadium closer to completing my MLB bucket list.
We rounded out the trip with a couple rounds of mini golf at PopStroke. I’d been to one in Vegas with Jacob and knew I had to take Carter. It was just a 10-minute walk from our hotel. It was hot that day, so the first round was a bit rough, but Carter came alive in the second round — shaved 20 strokes off his score and even nailed a hole-in-one.
All in all, the trip was perfect. We spent time with family we rarely get to see, met amazing people from Debbie’s side, and, most importantly, had time — just the three of us — to slow down and make memories.
This past year has been incredibly tough on Carter. He’s handled it with so much grace and maturity for an 8-year-old, it’s easy to forget sometimes that he’s still hurting. Trips like this remind me how important it is to pause and make space for joy — and we packed a lot of it into this week.
Hope In Every Spot
I want to start with an update on our “Hope In Every Spot” event. We’re six weeks out, and honestly, we're feeling really good about where things stand — especially considering this is our first time fundraising in Sofia’s honor.
If you read my last blog or follow me on Instagram, you already know the heart behind this: we're raising money and collecting donations to give thousands of dollars worth of toys, activities, and gift cards to children and families battling cancer at BC Children’s Hospital — just like Sofia once did.
Since announcing the event, we’ve had an Amazon gift registry open so people can contribute instantly, whether or not they plan to attend on May 24th. As of today, 247 gifts have been purchased — every single one will go directly to a child or family at BC Children’s.
We’re beyond grateful to everyone who’s stepped up already.
If you’re reading this and still want to help, there are plenty of items left on our registry — every contribution makes a difference.
As for the event itself, things are coming together nicely. We’ve got a full day of activities for kids already lined up, with even more in the works. If you joined us last year to celebrate Sofia’s life, our goal is to recapture that same energy — fun for kids, engaging, and full of heart.
We’d love for as many of you as possible to join us on May 24th. For more details, check out my previous blog post or visit our event website here.
Our Trip To Arizona
We just got back from a week in Arizona — and honestly, it was one of the best vacations I’ve ever had.
We spent the first few days in Sierra Vista for my Uncle Wayne’s wedding, and wrapped up the trip in Scottsdale. The main reason for going was to celebrate Wayne and his new wife, Debbie. He’s lived in Arizona for a long time but recently moved to Sierra Vista, a small military town near the Mexican border in the South East region of the state. We didn’t do a lot of sightseeing there, but what we did see was great — and what stood out the most was how friendly the people were.
We stayed at an Airbnb about 10 minutes from Wayne’s place — a cozy, well-decorated rancher with a games room Carter absolutely loved. We shared it with my cousin Jarrod and his wife Angie (visiting from Pennsylvania), and my other uncle, Dave, who’s from Vancouver. It was especially nice reconnecting with Jarrod and Angie — we hadn’t seen them in nearly 10 years. Carter and Jarrod had a little ping pong rivalry going, which we hope to continue if they make it out West. And Dave — well, he’s always been the “funny uncle,” and it was wild seeing him do the same little tricks on Carter that he used to do on me nearly 40 years ago. And yes, they still work — Carter was in stitches.
The wedding itself was a few days into the trip, and it was incredible. I was honored to stand beside Wayne as one of his groomsmen. Wayne is the oldest of four siblings, including my mom. Sadly, he’s now the only one left. My mom passed away in 2018, followed by her sister Deanna a few years later, and Nancy just last year — all from cancer. Standing there beside Wayne, I felt a real mix of grief and gratitude. It meant a lot to represent my mom that day.
After the wedding, we headed north to Scottsdale and stayed at the Great Wolf Lodge — a special treat for Carter. I’d never been to one before and wasn’t sure what to expect, but it blew us away. The indoor water park was a hit, and the activities kept us going from morning to night. The highlight was a blue tube slide the three of us rode together — as we whipped through it, Sam was yelling, “I hate this! I’m never doing this again!” Carter and I were dying laughing… and yes, she went on it again — yelling the same thing all over again. It’s a memory we’ll hold onto forever.
We also went to a Diamondbacks game, sitting just a few rows back from the left field wall where Carter got to watch Zac Gallen warm up. Sam managed to get a game ball tossed up to Carter, which was a cool addition to his collection. The D-backs lost to the Orioles 5–1, but the experience was awesome — and I’m one stadium closer to completing my MLB bucket list.
We rounded out the trip with a couple rounds of mini golf at PopStroke. I’d been to one in Vegas with Jacob and knew I had to take Carter. It was just a 10-minute walk from our hotel. It was hot that day, so the first round was a bit rough, but Carter came alive in the second round — shaved 20 strokes off his score and even nailed a hole-in-one.
All in all, the trip was perfect. We spent time with family we rarely get to see, met amazing people from Debbie’s side, and, most importantly, had time — just the three of us — to slow down and make memories.
This past year has been incredibly tough on Carter. He’s handled it with so much grace and maturity for an 8-year-old, it’s easy to forget sometimes that he’s still hurting. Trips like this remind me how important it is to pause and make space for joy — and we packed a lot of it into this week.
One Year
Tomorrow marks one year since we said goodbye to Sofia.
Lately, my mind has been drifting back to those days leading up to April 14, 2024. But I’m choosing not to write about that here today. I did share some thoughts last year on our GoFundMe page if you’d like to read more about those final moments. Today, I want to focus on what these last few days have felt like — and how I expect tomorrow might feel.
I had a feeling this anniversary would be one of my tougher tests, and I was right. Almost as soon as we got back from Arizona, the familiar weight returned — the same heaviness I felt leading into New Year’s, which had been the hardest stretch of this grief journey so far.
It’s hard to describe this feeling in words. The best word I can come up with is heavy. Like someone stacked a pile of weight on my chest and shoulders. Every movement feels harder. Breathing feels shallower. And the only real relief comes through distraction.
Sensing the anxiety creeping back, I tried to stay busy. Cleaning. Organizing. Playing with Carter. Watching Netflix. Shopping for a new car. Anything to pull my mind away — even just briefly. But the relief never lasts long. The weight always comes back. Eventually, I just give in. I sit with the pain. And weirdly, that helps. The more I lean into the loss — the more I accept it — the easier it is to recover.
Yesterday was especially hard.
BC Children’s Hospital hosted a remembrance ceremony for oncology patients who passed in 2023 and 2024. We knew we needed to be there, but it was even harder than we imagined. It was Sam’s first time back at the hospital since we left on April 14 last year. Her first time seeing our doctor, our social worker, and the other staff and volunteers. Those firsts are brutal. I’d gone through them already on a visit last year, and I knew what was coming — the way the memories rush back, the emotional waves that feel like they’ll knock you over.
But beyond that, we found ourselves in a room full of parents just like us. For the first time, we were surrounded by moms and dads grieving the same unimaginable loss. It was overwhelming. The ceremony itself was beautiful, but heavy. And at times, it was too much for me.
Still, there were moments of joy. The hospital staff did a wonderful job. As we watched a slideshow of the children lost far too soon, I bounced between tears and smiles. So many of my memories of Sofia in the hospital are warm, and those came flooding back. Every child in that slideshow radiated bravery. Their spirits somehow shining through still photos. None of them deserved what happened. And sitting there, knowing exactly what each of those families is feeling — it was heartbreaking.
The ceremony ended with a quiet, powerful moment: we all sang “Little Star” and waved flashlights across the ceiling as others played soft instruments we’d been given. In the midst of all that sadness, I found a little comfort in the sound and the light. A fitting end to a difficult but meaningful gathering.
Afterward, we met Carter at his baseball game. He has another today. And one tomorrow. Baseball was one of the first distractions we had last year — a small slice of normal in the middle of chaos. It’s a welcome one again this weekend.
I don’t want April 14 to hold this kind of power forever. I hope, with time, the sharpness of this date fades. The hardest day of my life isn’t something I want to relive each year. But I knew this first anniversary would be brutal — and I’m as ready as I can be to face the pain that tomorrow brings.
I miss her so much.
Sofia was such a beautiful little girl. She meant everything to me.
I miss kissing the back of her head as we lay in bed waiting for Mama to join us.
I miss holding her hand while she slept beside me.
I miss her laugh.
I miss her smile.
I miss the way she’d glare at me when she was mad.
I miss how she made Carter laugh.
I miss the way she ate.
I miss her incredible courage.
I miss her voice saying, “I love you so much, Daddy.”
I miss our family being whole.
I miss everything.
I wish I could go back. I wish I could get it all back.
Another game ball added to his collection
Great Wolf Lodge also had an indoor mini golf. Carter and Sam played a round together
Carter loved using these ropes to cross the water at Great Wolf Lodge
Taken at my Uncle Wayne and Debbie's house the day after the wedding. From Left to Right: Ryan, Carter, Sam, Debbie, Wayne, Dave, Angie, Jarrod
Selfie from wedding day. From Left to Right: Sam, Ryan, Debbie, Angie, Wayne, Jarrod
Wayne and Debbie had this really nice area set up to remember and honor my Mom and her sisters Nancy and Deanna.
Lately, my mind has been drifting back to those days leading up to April 14, 2024. But I’m choosing not to write about that here today. I did share some thoughts last year on our GoFundMe page if you’d like to read more about those final moments. Today, I want to focus on what these last few days have felt like — and how I expect tomorrow might feel.
I had a feeling this anniversary would be one of my tougher tests, and I was right. Almost as soon as we got back from Arizona, the familiar weight returned — the same heaviness I felt leading into New Year’s, which had been the hardest stretch of this grief journey so far.
It’s hard to describe this feeling in words. The best word I can come up with is heavy. Like someone stacked a pile of weight on my chest and shoulders. Every movement feels harder. Breathing feels shallower. And the only real relief comes through distraction.
Sensing the anxiety creeping back, I tried to stay busy. Cleaning. Organizing. Playing with Carter. Watching Netflix. Shopping for a new car. Anything to pull my mind away — even just briefly. But the relief never lasts long. The weight always comes back. Eventually, I just give in. I sit with the pain. And weirdly, that helps. The more I lean into the loss — the more I accept it — the easier it is to recover.
Yesterday was especially hard.
BC Children’s Hospital hosted a remembrance ceremony for oncology patients who passed in 2023 and 2024. We knew we needed to be there, but it was even harder than we imagined. It was Sam’s first time back at the hospital since we left on April 14 last year. Her first time seeing our doctor, our social worker, and the other staff and volunteers. Those firsts are brutal. I’d gone through them already on a visit last year, and I knew what was coming — the way the memories rush back, the emotional waves that feel like they’ll knock you over.
But beyond that, we found ourselves in a room full of parents just like us. For the first time, we were surrounded by moms and dads grieving the same unimaginable loss. It was overwhelming. The ceremony itself was beautiful, but heavy. And at times, it was too much for me.
Still, there were moments of joy. The hospital staff did a wonderful job. As we watched a slideshow of the children lost far too soon, I bounced between tears and smiles. So many of my memories of Sofia in the hospital are warm, and those came flooding back. Every child in that slideshow radiated bravery. Their spirits somehow shining through still photos. None of them deserved what happened. And sitting there, knowing exactly what each of those families is feeling — it was heartbreaking.
The ceremony ended with a quiet, powerful moment: we all sang “Little Star” and waved flashlights across the ceiling as others played soft instruments we’d been given. In the midst of all that sadness, I found a little comfort in the sound and the light. A fitting end to a difficult but meaningful gathering.
Afterward, we met Carter at his baseball game. He has another today. And one tomorrow. Baseball was one of the first distractions we had last year — a small slice of normal in the middle of chaos. It’s a welcome one again this weekend.
I don’t want April 14 to hold this kind of power forever. I hope, with time, the sharpness of this date fades. The hardest day of my life isn’t something I want to relive each year. But I knew this first anniversary would be brutal — and I’m as ready as I can be to face the pain that tomorrow brings.
I miss her so much.
Sofia was such a beautiful little girl. She meant everything to me.
I miss kissing the back of her head as we lay in bed waiting for Mama to join us.
I miss holding her hand while she slept beside me.
I miss her laugh.
I miss her smile.
I miss the way she’d glare at me when she was mad.
I miss how she made Carter laugh.
I miss the way she ate.
I miss her incredible courage.
I miss her voice saying, “I love you so much, Daddy.”
I miss our family being whole.
I miss everything.
I wish I could go back. I wish I could get it all back.
Carter getting ready to take his tee shot at PopStroke
You have a gift Ryan. Thanks for being courageous in sharing… you are helping others with this blog, even as you seek your own healing. I am amazed at your grace and gratitude. May blessings and strength continue to find you and help you grow around the pain that will never be gone. ❤️
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