Nichole has asked me to share.

🧡

Our days are written in His book.

Psalm 139:16 says: “Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.”

 

On October 16th, 2025, at 11:08 a.m. (Central European Time), our brave, beautiful boy took his final breath and ran straight into the arms of Jesus.

A boy far too perfect for this cruel world.

After fighting the hardest, bravest, most excruciating battle a child could ever face, his body finally rested.

Not because of one single illness.

But because it had simply endured more than any body ever should.

His laughter, his light, and his love will never fade.

There are no words that could ever describe this kind of pain.

It feels impossible to breathe, impossible to think, impossible to imagine a world without him in it.

And yet, through this unthinkable heartbreak, we take comfort in knowing that Heaven gained the most radiant soul it has ever seen.

Because Branson wasn’t just a boy.

He was a light — wild, bright, and uncontainable.

He had that spark that made people feel alive just by being around him.

He lived every single day as if it were his last — full throttle, full heart, full joy.

All in.

He wasn’t just the life of the party.

He was the party.

If Branson was there, you felt it.

You could hear his laugh before you saw his face.

That laugh — big, infectious, unstoppable — could fill a room and melt away the heaviness in anyone’s heart.

He had this incredible way of making people forget their worries.

Even adults found themselves smiling differently when he was around.

He never met a stranger.

He had a gift for connection — whether it was a classmate, a nurse, or someone passing by, Branson made them feel like they mattered.

Like they belonged.

He never let anyone feel left out.

He had an instinct for kindness that can’t be taught.

Just one grin from him — that mischievous sparkle in his eyes — could turn an ordinary moment into a memory you’d never forget.

He could walk into a quiet room and turn it into laughter within seconds.

That was his magic.

He was a protector too.

Of his friends.

Of his siblings.

Of anyone smaller, weaker, or hurting.

If someone cried, Branson would be the first to kneel beside them.

He didn’t just offer comfort — he gave his whole heart.

He was the leader of the pack, the one others looked to for courage.

He set trends.

He broke rules — but always in the best ways.

He did everything with a passion that made people want to be better just by knowing him.

He was the first to volunteer.

The first to cheer others on.

And the last to ever give up.

You would never catch him complaining.

Even when life got hard —

especially when life got hard — Branson showed up with a smile.

He had a way of finding joy in the smallest things.

A silly joke, a family game night, a puppy’s paw, the way the sunlight hit the window — Branson noticed them all.

He collected moments the way some collect treasures.

Because to him, life was a treasure.

Even when cancer tried to steal his strength, it never once touched his spirit.

He faced every single day with courage, humor, and a heart that refused to quit.

His bravery was beyond words.

He smiled through pain.

He laughed through fear.

And he kept fighting long after most would have given up.

Doctors would shake their heads in disbelief.

Nurses would call him “the miracle boy.”

But to us — he was more than a miracle.

He was a teacher.

He showed us what true strength looks like.

He taught us to find joy in the darkest moments.

He reminded us that life isn’t about how long we get to live — it’s about how fiercely we love while we’re here.

Branson loved fiercely.

He loved his mom and dad with every beat of his heart.

He loved his siblings like they were extensions of himself — protective, gentle, loyal.

He loved his friends with that same fire — always lifting them up, never letting them fall.

And he loved Jesus.

Deeply.

Unashamedly.

Even when his body was weak, his faith was strong.

He prayed for others.

He worried about others before himself.

He would whisper, “Mom, maybe God can use my story to help someone else.”

And that’s exactly what’s happening.

Because Branson’s story isn’t just about loss.

It’s about light.

It’s about faith.

It’s about how one small boy, in just eleven years, touched more lives than most people ever will.

I share our journey not for recognition, but to remind people of the power of love, resilience, and faith.

To show that even in unimaginable pain, beauty and hope can still shine through.

Because even now, when I close my eyes, I see his smile.

I hear his laughter echoing through the walls of our home.

I feel his warmth — in the sunbeams that hit the kitchen window, in the music he loved, in the moments of quiet when the world slows down.

He’s still here, in every heartbeat, in every prayer, in every act of kindness that carries his light forward.

Branson’s story was never just ours.

It was meant to inspire.

To move hearts.

To lead others to Christ.

To remind the world that every moment with the people we love is precious beyond measure.

As our family learns to live without him, we’re holding tight to the truth that love never dies.

That Heaven isn’t far.

That one day, we’ll see him again.

Until then, we honor him by living like he did.

We’ve stepped away from social media for now — to grieve, to breathe, to process.

We know how deeply Branson was loved and how many lives he touched, but we ask for privacy as we find our footing again.

The best way to honor him isn’t through messages or flowers — it’s through action.

The greatest tribute you can give is to live as he lived.

To be kind.

To love hard.

To include everyone.

To protect the ones you love.

To laugh loud.

To forgive quickly.

To chase life with everything you have.

Never back down.

Always leave people better than you found them.

Branson did all that and more.

He left people changed.

He left us better.

And though our hearts are shattered, we take comfort in knowing that Heaven gained one hell of a warrior — and this world lost a once-in-a-lifetime soul.

We love you forever, Branson Wayne.

You were our sunshine, our heartbeat, and our hero.

You’ve run your race, sweet boy.

We’ll spend the rest of our lives missing you — but also living for you.

Until we meet again, keep laughing up there, keep shining bright, and keep watching over us.

We can’t wait to be reunited for eternity.

Too Beautiful for This World — The Heartbreaking Farewell to Declan Nathaniel Sisson.2052

Declan Nathaniel Sisson was born on March 9, 2021.

From the very beginning, he carried a light within him — one that sparkled through his laughter, through the way he explored the world, through the way he loved.

He was the kind of child whose presence softened the air around him.
The kind whose smile could melt away even the heaviest day.

Declan wasn’t loud or demanding.
He was gentle, curious, and endlessly kind — a little boy who seemed to notice beauty where others might overlook it.

The moon hanging low above the trees.
A crooked stick found in the backyard.
A passing garbage truck, its engine rumbling like music to his ears.

He loved life with a quiet, radiant joy.
And the world loved him right back.

🌙 A Battle No Child Should Face

At a very young age, Declan’s family received news that would change everything.
Cancer.

It’s a word no parent should ever have to hear.
And yet, somehow, that word became part of Declan’s story — not once, but four times.

Four separate battles.
Four times his tiny body was asked to fight.

Four times he rose with courage that seemed far beyond his years.

He endured four bone marrow transplants.
He participated in three clinical trials, helping researchers learn, helping other children who would one day walk the same painful path.

Through every needle, every surgery, every hospital stay, Declan met the world with grace.
There were tears, yes — but there was also laughter.
There were moments of fear — but far more moments of light.

His doctors often said there was something remarkable about him.
Something that made even the hardest days on the ward feel softer.
That something was Declan himself.

☀️ The Color of His Heart

If Declan could be summed up in a single color, it would be yellow.

He adored it in every shade — from the golden glow of sunshine to the soft hue of dandelions, to the bright shine of a school bus.
Yellow matched him perfectly.

It was the color of warmth, of life, of hope.
And Declan was all those things.

He found wonder in everything — in the way the wind rustled the grass, in the smell of fresh bacon on Sunday mornings, in the soft pages of his favorite books.

He loved reading Little Bear, making art, exploring the outdoors, and snuggling close to his mama and daddy — the place where he felt most safe, most loved.

He owned a pair of Cow & Pig socks that he wore proudly and often, a little detail that made everyone smile.
They became part of his charm, part of what made him uniquely Declan.

Even when hospital walls surrounded him, he carried joy like a lantern.
He would greet nurses with giggles, point excitedly at pictures, and talk about the things he loved most — garbage trucks, farm animals, and the moon.
He reminded everyone that even in pain, there is still beauty.

💛 The Final Chapter, The Eternal Light

On June 9, 2025, Declan’s battle came to an end.
His tiny body, tired from years of fighting, was finally at peace.
He slipped gently into eternity, surrounded by love so deep it could fill the stars.

He was only four years old.
Four years — and yet, he changed more hearts than most do in a lifetime.

Those who knew him still speak of his laughter, his courage, and his yellow spirit that never faded.
He taught them to look for light, even in darkness.

To live with gratitude, even when life feels unfair.
To notice the small miracles — the color of the sky, the warmth of a hug, the sound of laughter echoing down a hallway.

Declan’s story is not one of loss, but of legacy.
He gave more than he ever took.
He left behind a trail of sunshine, a thousand moments of joy, and a reminder that even the smallest souls can carry infinite light.

In every sunrise, in every dandelion carried by the wind, in every child’s laughter that rings through the air — Declan is there.
His love still glows.

His spirit still shines.

He was — and always will be — the brightest yellow.