A couple of weeks ago, my friend's nephew died. He was one month into his 19th year.
Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy killed him.
I didn't know Levi. I wish I had. The program from his funeral tells me that he "was a computer gamer, a Hawkeye football fan, sci-fi fanatic, US military and history junky and food network junky...:
He was 19 years old, a boy who wasn't granted the time to become a man.
And yet...
He dealt with more than you or I have in our lifetimes - he faced his own mortality.
Everything we do to raise money and find a cure is about two things: It's about honoring boys like Levi who fought DMD each day of their lives, and it's about my son and boy's like him who are just beginning the fight.
I want to believe that, after 150 years, Levi is of the last generation of boys who will have to suffer and die from this disease.
Levi, God be with you - I hope that, wherever you are, you're feeling your strong legs under you - you're running fast, jumping far, and your wheelchair is just a distant memory.
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