Upon learning that my 4yr old son Richard has advanced Cystic 
Fibrosis, I was in shock, then I mourned, finally I became furious 
and fought back. Franticly, every night I would call everywhere
looking for help; there was none. One night after several long and 
agonizing phone calls pleading for help, Richard came into the 
room and said "Mommy I know who you work for." With some 
trepidation I poised the question back to him, "Who Richard?" 65 
roses he said with a smile. I went to him and tenderly pressed 
his tiny body to mine, so he could not see the tears running down 
my cheeks. I was amazed, since I had never told him that he had 
advanced liver cancer; then as I hugged him I realized, he couldn't 
pronounce Cystic Fibrosis. Now every time for the past 38 years
as I visit Richard, I smile and cry as I gaze upon a 7-year-old's 
gravestone that read 65 ROSES.