Laura Fredrickson and her husband, Ryan, sat in the back of the church and cried.
Two days earlier, their son Francisco had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. That day they came to watch their first grader carry the offertory gifts to the altar with his classmates at Nativity Catholic School in Burke. Though normally not one to take out her phone during Mass, Laura couldn’t resist recording Francisco’s walk down the aisle. As she did, the church seemed to be lit by a beautiful bright light. Deep in her soul she felt a message from God — “You are to walk him straight to the golden gates of heaven.”
So she, her family and their community walked alongside Francisco for the next 18 months until his death Dec. 5, 2024. Those days were full of incredible sadness, said Laura, but that poignant moment in the church also brought a peace that carried her through the difficult days ahead. “I think a lot of the sorrow of facing something like this comes from seeing it as a tragic ending, saying, ‘Oh my gosh, my son is going to die,’ ” said Laura. “Whereas for us, (we said), ‘My goodness, my son is going to live.’ ”
Fransciso’s journey began when one of his friends at school noticed something wrong with his eye. Around the same time, Laura and Ryan learned they were expecting twin boys as younger siblings to Francisco and his little sister Mariana. After many doctor’s visits and various medical tests, Francisco was diagnosed with a rare, aggressive brainstem tumor.
As an active little boy who loved outer space, making art, playing the piano and going to school, Francisco worried what his classmates would think of his illness, said Laura. But in the end, he was welcomed at school with balloons, ribbons and applause. Kids fought over who got to push him in the wheelchair and would take turns sitting next to him during lunch, she said. “He faced a lot of physical difficulties, but everything around him was so beautiful and made him feel so loved,” said Laura.
Francisco’s third grade teacher, Delaney Fetzer, first connected with Francisco when he dressed as Mickey Mouse for Halloween and she happened to dress as Minnie. “Ah, it’s the Mickey to my Minnie,” she would say when they saw each other in the hallway. When she became his teacher the next fall, she liked to greet him as, “the man, the myth, the legend.” Delaney spent the few months before his death trying to ensure everyone in the class felt loved and cared for, especially Francisco. “I wanted to make sure that I made every moment count,” she said. The days were hard, but the little boy’s goodbye hugs each afternoon made it all worth it, she said. “He was my best little buddy.”
A few months after his diagnosis, Francisco received his first Communion and confirmation. So before his classmates received their first Communion, he decided to surprise them by being an altar server at the Mass. Normally only fifth graders are allowed to serve at Nativity, but Msgr. Bob Cilinski, pastor, was happy to make an exception, said Laura. Now, almost half of Francisco’s classmates have signed up to serve this year. “That’s the impact that I still see that he has,” said Laura.
At the start of his illness, Francisco would timidly ask his mom what heaven would be like. But gradually their “heaven talks” grew into elaborate heaven party planning sessions featuring his favorite foods, such as tacos and pizza, and the saints he would hang out with. One plan included making Nutella pancakes with St. Carlo Acutis and bringing the stack to Jesus. “He talked about the saints as if they were his friends from school,” said Laura.
Toward the end of his life, Francisco was no longer able to attend school. Laura was at his side on the night he died and saw a relaxed look on the 9-year-old’s face. But in the morning, somehow a smile seemed to be playing across his features. Laura took that as a sign that he was already having a great time in heaven.
Delaney spent the morning with his classmates as they processed their grief over the loss of their friend. They shared memories, colored pictures of his favorite things, made cards for his family and prayed a rosary. “It was so beautiful to see the faith of these children. They were laughing through their tears,” she said. “Even my quietest little girls and boys found their voices. I couldn’t have been more proud of them.”
Before Francisco, Delaney said she experienced a crippling fear of death. But now she believes that heaven is real and that Francisco is there. Francisco was an example of how to share in the suffering of Christ with perseverance and hope, said Delaney. “He has given me such a purpose in life to be joyful,” she said. “He was hope embodied, and I’ll never ever forget him.” The school honored Francisco with T-shirts that read, “The man, the myth, the legend, the saint.”
During her son’s illness, Laura only wanted to share his journey with their friends and family. But since his death, she has felt called to share all the graces she received during that challenging season. This fall, she released “Pilgrim of Hope: A Child’s Joyful Faith in the Midst of Terminal Brain Cancer,” a book largely written during Francisco’s life. In an illustration on the cover, Francisco stands in a field of yellow flowers wearing his favorite pajamas gazing up at a shining cross in the sky. “(Francisco’s) life, his entire life, was a sorrowful, joyful prayer,” said Laura. “I want to be like him — he cracked the code as to how to walk through that suffering straight into joy.”
Maraist is a freelancer from Reston.
