The summer of 2011, my brother and sister-in-law announced that I would be blessed with another nephew or niece. When you hear joyful news like this, excitement and happiness run through your entirE body, leaving no room for any negativity. After all, this is joyous news—why would hesitation and doubt even enter your mind?

A few months prior to his birth, my brother and sister-in-law visited the hospital to find out if their little bundle of joy was a boy or a girl. The doctor brought two pieces of news: they were having a boy, but there were complications. This tiny little boy, only a few months along, had something called spina bifida and was going to need prenatal surgery 20 weeks into the pregnancy. The rare surgery could only be performed in three hospitals in the entire country, so they picked up their things and temporarily moved from Buffalo, NY, to Cincinnati, OH.

The day of the surgery came along, and with many people praying and rooting for baby Sebastian, he got through the surgery like a champ! His delivery date was moved a couple weeks earlier to the end of January.

We celebrated, but in the snap of a finger, things changed, and the doctors realized they would have to deliver him immediately. Sebastian Rocky Galen Tedesco joined us on November 4^th, 2011 (named after the great Rocky Balboa since they were both fighters and both champs).

With the happiness and joy came fear and concern. As much as we wanted Sebastian with us, we knew that this early appearance would only bring more complications.

But each day, Sebastian seemed to be getting better and better. He even started breathing on his own! There was still a long road ahead, but he was ready for the ride. Then, December 3^rd complications arose and we were told he had a 50/50 chance. As the day went on, that chance decreased until the doctor took Sebastian off life support and allowed him to leave this world in his mother’s warm embrace.

Within the 29 days that Sebastian was alive, however, he lived a full life. He has impacted hundreds of people, young and old: family, friends, and even strangers would approach us, sharing how Sebastian had changed their lives. Through him, a foundation called the Sebastian Galen Westgate Foundation was created to raise money for children and families who need support. Though Sebastian is no longer physically here, he is still working in this world – through me, through his family, through his foundation, through the people he never met. Since the Sebastian Galen Westgate (SGW) Foundation was created, we have raised money for numerous causes.

For example, we recently supported a little girl with cancer and her family. Though we cannot understand what her family is going through, we can relate to the struggles that come along with sick family members and understand that with these hardships come financial difficulties.

Last year, we participated in an event called March for Babies, which raises money for premature babies every year. We formed teams in Sebastian’s name in California and New York. We raised thousands and thousands of dollars for children born prematurely. People we never even met donated to the cause and even signed up to take part in the 3 mile walk.

When the tragic school shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School took place, the SGW Foundation raised funds from all over the country and sent a gift card to the elementary school for new school supplies for the children.

In just over a year since Sebastian has been gone, already so much good has come from his time here. We know the future holds many more opportunities to spread Sebastian’s story and to reach out and help others where help is needed.

This small boy, weighing less than two pounds, taught me so much. He taught me that there’s no use in dwelling on things out of our control because they will happen anyway. He taught me to appreciate even the smallest things in life. And perhaps the greatest thing he taught me is to never take anything for granted, because things big and small can enter and leave your life in a flash.

These may sound like clichés, but because of Sebastian think I finally understand what it all means. Sebastian accomplished so much in his short time here and, when it is my time to go, I want to be able to say the same about myself: that I lived my life like Sebastian did his, fighting till the end.

Emerson said, “It is not the length of life, but the depth of life.” Nothing could be truer: someone who is here for under a month can do more good in this world than many people can do in decades.

When someone close to us leaves this world, it’s okay to be negative. It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to be angry, to think it’s unfair. It’s okay to not understand. It’s okay to not get over it right away. It’s okay to dwell on it. It’s okay to question it. Not only is it okay – it’s normal. Many have experienced losing someone, but no one has had the same experience as you, no one can tell you how you are supposed to feel. But one thing that can help is to not let these feelings take over, and instead look at what you learned from the person you lost and keep it with you always. Losing Sebastian was the hardest thing I have ever experienced, but I get through by looking at his life and how much his has affected mine. It helps to not only think about the good memories, but think of what he meant to me and to others who knew him.

The hardest part is not to see what they have done in your life, but learn to appreciate it. To live life the way we know we should, to be able to release the negativity and to grasp what living truly means. Often we realize opportunities when we’ve already missed the opportunity, but it’s never too late to start appreciating life and living it to its fullest. To break through from those things that are holding us down, and to open our eyes and realize we only have one chance, so we should try to do it right. Do the things you know your loved one would look at you and smile for doing. And remember even though they are not here with us, they are still here within us. If we keep them alive, they can never truly die.