Athena was pure light. From the moment she was born, she laughed and smiled like she came into this world already knowing how to bring joy. Her smile wasn’t just on her lips — her eyes smiled too. That smile was my energy. It kept me going through everything.

She was gentle, goofy, kind, and wise beyond her years. She loved to help — whether it was cooking, cleaning, or comforting me like she was the mom. She once told me, “I’ll always be here for you.” And I still feel her everywhere.

She was happy with the littlest things.
She cried over tiny paper cuts but would light up over flowers, a good joke, or helping someone else feel better.

Athena dreamed big.
She wanted to be a fashion designer. A songwriter. A performer. She told me she’d buy me a mansion one day, and a limo, and a bus — so we could all live together forever.

She loved beauty. She loved trees. Tiny flowers. Glowing lights.
She loved singing in different languages — Vietnamese, Korean, Japanese, English. She memorized songs in just days. Her favorites included K-pop, Taylor Swift, TheFatRat, Alan Walker, oldies, Bob Marley, and Mockingbird by Eminem.

She loved reading Dork Diaries, Cat Kid Comic Club, Dog Man, and watching shows like Spy x Family and Avatar.

She adored movies — Moana, Turning Red, Over the Moon, Kung Fu Panda, Trolls, Smurfs, Prince of Egypt, Lilo & Stitch, Soul, Hotel Transylvania, and so many more. She’d sing, dance, act, and become the characters.

Athena played piano with pride — Memory, Under the Sea, Beautiful Life — her fingers danced like she belonged on stage. She loved ballet and started dancing at five. We were planning to enroll her again when she turned eight.

But then, the headaches and vomiting started.
We visited doctors from April to May. They said it was just allergies.

On May 22, we got the diagnosis: DIPG.
Our world shattered.

But even during treatment, Athena stayed herself.
She danced. She laughed. She was still sweet. Still sassy. Still brave.
Even when she couldn’t walk anymore, she wouldn’t let me carry her — afraid I’d get hurt.
She once told me, “When you cry, it breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.”

That’s who she was. Always putting others first.

In her diary and on her Christmas list, she wrote:
“I want my family and friends to be happy.
I want to live forever with them.
I just want them to remember me.”

Athena passed away on September 23, 2024, but her love, light, and spirit live on.
She made everyone around her better. She still does.

We remember her.
And we fight for a cure — for her, and for every child like her.

Thank you for choosing to donate to The Cure Starts Now Foundation. 100% of this donation, after credit card processing fees, goes directly towards research to find the homerun cure for cancer starting with pediatric brain cancer research.

If you would like to make a donation by mail please send a check to:  The Cure Starts Now Foundation; 10280 Chester Road; Cincinnati, OH 45215 and put the child's name in the memo.

The family receives notification of all donations made to this tribute fund automatically. Thank you again for giving.  The cure starts with you…The Cure Starts NOW!