I have written a lot of Isabella posts. This will be likely be the last one. What started with a phone call 16 years ago
is ending today with a story about a very different phone call. More on that to come.
It really is amazing how a phone call can alter the
direction and perspective of your life.
On July 31, 2003 a phone call from my wife not only disrupted our 4
th
wedding anniversary but changed my life forever. We were two days away from the expected birth
of our daughter Isabella Soleil when God decided he needed an Angel more than
we needed a daughter. To date, and
hopefully until the day I leave this Earth, that is the worst day of my
life. You all know the rest of the
story. Approximately 6 months later my
father passed away from leukemia (specifically AML) and shortly thereafter my
wife, Crea, was diagnosed with cancer while pregnant with our son Jaden. Five years later my wife’s cancer would
return and years after that my older step daughter Tiana would be diagnosed
with the very same type of cancer.
Life can change paths in an instant and doesn’t always seem
fair and this short time frame certainly ingrained the lesson on my being such
that I will never forget it. I have
shared my story a lot. Some would accuse
me of being too open with the personal accounts of my life but my hope has
always been that my story would find its way to those that needed to hear
it. I firmly believe that Blessings come
from the worst of times. I firmly
believe that if we are breathing, our purpose here is not yet fulfilled. Even if we are taking those breaths at a dark
time in our lives……..there is more left for us……….more things to
accomplish………more lives to impact………more blessings to receive. Even if you are curled up in a ball, you can battle
back, you can stand up and fight. Some
unbelievable things came from my difficult moments. I met amazing people I otherwise would not
have. I accomplished things I certainly
never thought possible. Five Ironman
finishes. Countless marathons. A few century rides. An ultra marathon and over $400,000 raised to
fight cancer. Along the way I like to
think I impacted a lot of lives as I shared my story and coached others to
train for half and full marathons while also raising money to fight cancer.
While I can put positive words to a tough series of events,
I have never found a path around the sadness that resulted from the loss of
Isabella. If you have ever witnessed me
share my story…………..whether it was at Isabella’s memorial service or 16 years later…………I
cannot speak of this loss without getting emotional. I just cannot get through the words that
speak of the night we lost her without crying.
It took a long time to do so but this past year I decided to accept it
is okay not to be okay. I came to the
understanding I will never fully recover because Isabella took part of me with
her to Heaven. How can you get back to
100% if only 90% remains? While this
realization provided some comfort and helped me feel less ashamed at the
unwavering sadness, it didn’t do much to ease the actual sadness. I know it probably doesn’t make sense that I
accepted I would never be whole yet still try to find that path around sadness but
losing a child is a whirlwind of emotions and I just want to find a more stable
emotional mindset about all of it. I
have faith………..complete faith………that I will see Isabella again. I have faith God had a greater need for
Isabella………..truth be told both of these thoughts are the only way I made it
through all of this but this understanding and faith does zero for the
emptiness I feel when I miss my little girl.
What does all of this have to do with Light the Night? Good question my friends. Light the Night is another fundraising arm
for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
Most of my time with LLS has been as a coach and participant for Team in
Training. Of the $400,000 I have raised,
approximately $275,000 was with Team in Training. Beyond the funds I raised, as a coach for
Team in Training, my amazing Westside teams raised millions of dollars. I also participated in the Man and Woman of
the Year campaign in 2014 where We Will Find a Cure (WWFAC) and I raised
$126,000 in ten weeks. Every time I ever
raised money for LLS, I was doing something I was afraid of. I was petrified to run 26.2 miles, I was
afraid of riding 100 miles, I was afraid of completing an Ironman, I cried at
the start line of my 50 mile ultra from fear of not being able to see it
through and I was very afraid of failure for the Man of the Year competition. My pushing past fear comes from and is for my
Dad. He could stare fear in the face and
push forward. It seemed to come natural
for him. For me it is a bit forced but I
try to conquer fear to honor who my Dad was and what he meant to my life. It is my way of letting him know in Heaven
that I was watching his life and learning from his actions.
You might think fear was not a factor for Light the Night
but you would be very wrong. True, there
is no crazy endurance distance to cover and there is no lofty fundraising
goal. You walk about 2 miles and you can
do so only raising $100. Easy stuff. That being said, I have steered clear of
this event ever since I learned about it.
What it lacks in athletic intensity, it makes up for in emotional
overload. At the event, everyone carries a lantern. Survivors carry White lanterns. Supporters carry Gold lanterns and those
walking in memory of someone carry a Red lantern. You relive your story. You look it dead in the eye.
The Red lantern was my fear.
It was the dark cloud of sadness that is never too far away as it
pertains to Isabella. I can always find
a way to keep that cloud out of reach but the Red lantern was the bridge to
that cloud. For an entire evening I would stare sadness in the face and I was
never ready to do that until 2019. This
year was different. I reflected a lot
about Isabella. I came to accept I would never be whole again and I came to
accept that was okay. Everyone handles
things differently. I know great people
that have suffered great losses and they handle their pain much better than I
do. Don’t get me wrong, I think I stood
tall in the face of these losses. I
fought back. I raised money. I honored promises and I will continue to do
so. I just cannot escape that
cloud. Light the Night was all about
that cloud and that emptiness. I hoped
the evening would allow me to expel my sorrow and see things differently moving
forward.
The funny thing is the night accomplished exactly what I
hoped for but in a manner I never saw coming…..with a phone call.
Thalia, Crea and I arrived very early to the event….it is my
nature to always be early. We checked
in, got our lanterns, grabbed some food and took a seat. I could feel the emotions starting to well up
as the clock inched forward to the start time.
The Red lantern was staring me in the face as a reminder of what was to
come. I did my best to stay occupied and
helping with this task came the opportunity to meet Rod Carew. It really was unbelievable timing. Thalia was only 2 days removed from learning who
Rod Carew was when we found ourselves standing before him in conversation. He was so genuine and kind. He spent a lot of time talking with Thalia
about softball which helped to motivate her.
Underlying this pleasant diversion was the fact Rod Carew was one of my
Dad’s favorite players. We talked about
him all of the time. We watched him play
all the time. So the distraction turned
into a reminder my Dad was no longer with us which brought my thoughts back to
Isabella. I actually got choked up
talking to Rod Carew just because of the history admiring such an awesome
player.
The evening creeped on.
We ended up back at our seats. I
kept taking walks trying to hold it together.
I had built this event up in my head and heart for many years. We eventually were minutes from the start of
the event. Minutes from my plan to purge
my sadness and march into the future with a different perspective.
Then the phone rang.
It was my son, Jaden, calling from North Carolina. Without going into great detail, 5 weeks
earlier I had dropped my 14-year-old son off 3,000 miles from home. He was attending a school in North Carolina catered
towards children with ADHD. It had been
a rough few years trying to help him be happy let alone successful. There was a lot of tension in our home trying
to figure things out. I had not always
been the best Dad. My son is literally
the smartest person I know. He has
tested above college level for a long long time. That being said, ADHD made executive functioning
a challenge for him so traditional schools were not a good fit. He could ace the tests but the little things
held him back. As much as the public
schools say they understand and will help, there is no way to completely adjust
to his needs in a school of thousands.
Jaden and I flew into Atlanta. We
had some good food, caught a Braves game, toured around where I grew up and
played a lot of Minecraft at his request.
More importantly we started to rebuild a friendship. I tried to do a better job understanding his
challenges and he tried his best to meet me half way. Dropping him off at the end of the trip and
driving away was gut wrenching. Flying
home alone was gut wrenching. Not being
able to talk to your son every day was gut wrenching. I was praying he found friends and found
himself but it was all a mystery as communication with Crea and I was
infrequent at best.
The phone rang and I was ecstatic to hear from my son. I was also petrified because the first month was
sure to be a difficult time in a space so unfamiliar to him. Everything about this new school would test
his comfort zone and invade his safe space.
He went from being alone in his room most of the day to being bunked in
one room with 8 people. He went from
avoiding people socially to having to interact all day with a lot of
strangers. I was so proud that he took
on the adventure hoping it would be a path to improvement…….to finding a better
way to work around his challenges………..to friendships and interaction and
confidence.
The call was everything I feared. Jaden was not in a good place. He was hurting. He was sad.
He was scared. He missed
home. I know I keep playing on the
distance from home but he was only 14 at the time (he is 15 now). To hear such pain in your son’s voice without
the ability to make a difference face to face was so distressing. I wanted to give him a hug and dry his tears
and tell him it would all be okay while looking him in the eye. That would not happen today. Only a phone call.
As difficult as the call was for Crea and I, it was the
first of two enlightening moments as it pertains to Isabella. For the entire call, I forgot about my
sadness and the Red Lantern. I let go of
that pain because my son needed me. God
had given me this amazing gift. As tough
as ADHD can be, I would not change anything about my son. God made him.
He has amazing talents that we will learn to tap into and ride to a
successful future. He is here. Despite the fact his Mom had cancer during
pregnancy and during his birth, Jaden was here.
My time with Isabella will come when my time here is finished but as I
said above, if we are still breathing, there is more left to accomplish and my
son needs me to be present and focused.
The second wake up call, albeit similar in nature, was when
I paused the conversation with Jaden to hand the phone to my daughter,
Thalia. She immediately burst into
tears. Despite all of the fighting and
animosity that Jaden and Thalia may show each other, she was hurting. Her brother was far away for the first time
in her life. When she walks upstairs to
her bedroom, he is no longer across the hall if needed. I honestly had no idea of her suffering until
her face showed so much pain. My
daughter needed me. She is an amazing
gift and one I speak of often when it comes to talking about Isabella. Thalia would likely not be here had Isabella
not passed away. Crea and I were going
to have two children. Thalia would have
been number 3. If you know me, you are
well aware I could not imagine a life without my princess. I always appreciate her but seeing her pain
took me away from my own pain. It helped
me see past the loss of Isabella and gain crystal clear focus on what I have
versus what I lost.
After the conversations with Jaden were over, I hung up the
phone. Light the Night began. It was unbelievable and I highly recommend that
you participate in the future. It is a
great way to fight back, honor and remember.
I did shed a tear or two but not for Isabella. When Crea held her White Lantern and stood in
the Survivors Circle, I shed a tear of gratitude that God spared my soulmate,
gave me two amazing kids and provides me the opportunity to see my Angel in
Heaven when my time here is through.
Thanks for reading.
Christopher D. Wilno
PS To my
dearest Tiana, if you are reading this, in my eyes you are my daughter. I view you as my own but reference ‘step’ in
writing only because I often refer to Isabella as the first child for Crea and
I. ‘Step’ is just a way to avoid
confusion to people reading that do not know our family.
PPS We raised
over $8,000 for Light the Night all in Thalia’s name. She was a top 10 fundraiser and we are
grateful for the support. In a few years
she will be in high school and will participate in the Student of the Year
Campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society where we hope to raise more than
$50,000. We hope you will join us in
that battle when the time comes.
ir door in 2013 while I was on the bike and it has been a huge setback. This week things went differently for me though. The overall stats are that I trained 195 miles consisting of 3 swims, 2 straight runs, 2 trainer rides, a 2 hour ride and one 5.5 hour ride followed by a 15 minute run off the bike. I did all of this with zero pain which stresses me out to put in writing but to hell with superstition. The most amazing workout was a 13.1 mile training run. It was the first time since my accident that I ran without the fear of pain. I was able to let my mind escape and just enjoy the run through some amazing landscape. I followed this up two days later with my first tempo run where I allowed myself to run at a sub 8 minute mile pace. That is a big step mentally for me. I have been utilizing extremely conservative run-walk intervals in the spirit of staying healthy. I will continue to do so because finishing the race is far more important that pushing myself to an injury. If my confid
ence continues to improve, I will allow myself to push from time to time. My weekend was mainly about the bike. Seven and a half hours of total riding split up into a 2 hour ride on Saturday and a 5.5 hour ride on Sunday. I cleared the 90 mile mark on the long ride with 5,600 feet of climb. It was good mentally to get in the distance. I now enter a recovery week which is a good thing because I am most definitely sore as I type this Monday morning.