Welcome to my space on the Internet: The Tenacious Beams. My name is Ashley, and I am so glad that you’re here!
The truly special thing about me is the person I had the privilege of mothering for seven years, four months, fourteen days, and a few hours. His name was Tenacious John, and he was my firstborn son. John was diagnosed with an aggressive form of childhood cancer called high-risk neuroblastoma when he was five years old. From the date of his diagnosis until he entered Hospice care, he was never off treatment. He fought neuroblastoma the beast for over 2 years. In short, Tenacious John was my hero. He taught all of us so much, and I’ve named this blog in his honor. I aim to be tenacious like John.
The hard part about losing a child to cancer is every day that you must go on living afterwards. I’ve decided to write my experiences with grief and life and faith after such an immense loss here in this space. My hope is that my words help grieving parents (especially bereaved mamas) feel less alone. Grieving is so isolating and can make you feel like you’re going crazy. You’re not crazy. The topics of grief and coping with loss are unpopular. People – even the well-meaning ones – tend to prefer we keep our composure and move on. That’s not even a little bit possible when your child is buried in the ground.
If you’re reading this and haven’t lost a child (or experienced some other horrendous primary loss), you are welcome here too. I am passionate about sharing what I’ve experienced with the hope that regular people can support grievers in the meantime. (You know, we will all experience the death of a loved one at some point.) Because child loss survivors are living most everyone’s worst nightmare, there’s a certain authority we hold when it comes to grieving. Not to discount anyone’s suffering, but if anyone knows loss, it’s us. My child died at age seven. He lost 70+ years of an average life.
Will many of my stories be sad ones? Yes. However, grief is not contagious. Just because my son’s story ended in death doesn’t mean your son’s will. And there’s no way your kids can catch cancer if you read this post. It’s okay to look away if you need to, but to those of you who read, I hope you know how honored I feel by your presence here. John asked me shortly before he died to share his “stories with cancer fighting” with the world. I assured him that I would always share of his bravery. I am so thankful to each of you who read and help me keep his memory alive.
Will all my stories be sad ones? No. The Tenacious Beams who survived the death of John and the Beam(s) born after his death live a full life. Our life after loss gets messy. There are still many tears and days when this mama doesn’t feel like doing a thing, but we press on for the sake of John’s brothers. I press on for my own sake, honestly. I am confident that John would be proud of my every effort. In fact, sometimes it’s John’s strength alone that pushes me forward. I can hear him in my head saying, “Mama, we never give up.”
I am a person of faith and I won’t attempt to hide that as I write in this space. Specifically, I follow Jesus. Faith can get messy as one deals with significant loss, but topping the long list of my very favorite things about God is this: He can handle all my ranting, questioning, and lamenting. If anyone knows what it’s like to suffer, it’s Him.
I would love to get to know you in the comments below. Let me know who you are, what brought you here, and (if you’d like) how I can pray for you today. I can’t wait to learn more about YOU!
The inaugural post for this site, The Tenacious Beams, is written lovingly in memory of our strong and precious Tenacious John Ashley Beam (June 2, 2011-October 17, 2018). We will see you soon, Bugs!