What Started as a Normal Day...

"Flipped upside down." — Dave Shepard

Adalyn "Addy" Sylvia Shepard: lefty pitcher, goofy twin, joy-bringer. Age 9, AML took her Home Jul 1, 2024. Her fight powers Addy's Army.

Shine On

What Those Days Felt Like

What started as a normal summer day became the moment our world changed forever. A bloody nose turned into an ER visit, then an ambulance ride, then words no parent is ever prepared to hear. Everything moved fast after that. We were stunned, trying to understand what was happening while holding onto hope, prayer, and the people carrying us through.

At Children’s, life became a blur of doctors, machines, alarms, urgent decisions, and long stretches where fear seemed to sit in the room with us. There were moments when we were told to hope, and moments when everything felt like it was slipping beyond our reach. We were exhausted, heartbroken, and overwhelmed, but through it all Addy was still Addy—strong, bright, funny, and deeply loved.

Those days will never make perfect sense to us because they happened with a speed and weight that no family can ever be ready for. What stays with us most is the love in the room, the fight in Addy, and the way her light never left even in the darkest moments. That is the feeling we carry forward, and it is why Addy’s Army exists.

A Poem for Addy - “Walking Away”

Silently your walk is observed; devotion evident as held hands unite. Admiring, I am struck by your silence, there is no joy seen, Each of you lost in a distant gaze This is not a lover's stare; Tonight you are mother and father, bound by a grief all parents fear, but dare not speak of, lest the mere uttering of thoughts would bring reality in play. What occupies your thoughts? So dark, it would seem. You are empty. May I reach out to you? Should I? Denial is such a tool, even for the observer, For I know this melancholy well. Sadly I've seen it before; I wish it would stay away Your trust was given to me In words unspoken, But told in worry and grief. My commitment to heal similarly unspoken; but understood. Such a busy room filled with technology Marks the severity of this final journey. Beeps, alarms, and pumps clicking perform As if the score of a chilling tragedy. There are questions here. Did we choose the right medications? Were there more to try? Did our devices fail us? What could we have done better? Surely something?! I am sorry; we are sorry. My heart, but more my soul aches deep. I am a parent; we are parents. How can I begin to understand your sadness? As your dedicated bedside vigil continued; My tears declared stinging words to you in all their finality. "We are done"; somehow meant in tenderness, but received as bitter blow. There are no comforting words here; Yet my soul needs you to know I have been privileged to be in your life. Our moments; never forgotten, always honored. As suggested, I have been here before. My mind scatters reflecting upon those previously lost. Although only a few; always one too many. Somehow, l am strengthened here from them. Oddly, our together battle and journey will help others. You need to know that. I need you to know that. I will never forget our moments. Again, in that final walk, I observe privately to not intrude, But I see what others perhaps don't. Is this real? Of course! Silently your walk is watched; But you are not alone as Mom and Dad. Playfully, your little one comes to your side; her unseen hands reassuring you that all is well. I am better now. - Ken Maslonka, MD

Addy's Joy

If you wanted to find Addy, you followed the sound of laughter. She was a lefty pitcher with a competitive fire on the fastpitch mound, but the moment the game ended she was back to being the kid who could light up any room without trying. Softball was her arena — the wind-up, the release, the grin after a strikeout — and she owned every bit of it.

Off the field, Addy's world was colorful in every sense. She could lose herself for hours in an art-by-number kit, a jigsaw puzzle spread across the table, or a fresh box of Legos. Coloring wasn't just a pastime — it was focus, calm, and creativity all in one. She approached every project the same way she approached life: with total commitment and a smile that made you want to pull up a chair and join in.

She loved Nutella — enthusiastically and without apology — and she loved Taylor Swift the same way. Hanging with her friends, singing along, just being together: those were the moments that filled her up. Addy was the rare kind of kid who didn't just bring joy to the people around her — she drew the best out of them. Her smile was infectious, her spirit was genuine, and the world felt bigger and warmer when she was in it.

Let It Shine — Addy's Army

After losing Adalyn at nine years old, Dave and Angie Shepard made a decision rooted in love: her light would not stop here. Addy's Army was founded as a 501(c)(3) nonprofit to carry her legacy forward — not as a memorial, but as a movement. Three pillars guide everything they do.

Meaningful Experiences for Children. Addy lived for softball, art, puzzles, friends, and the simple joy of being a kid. Addy's Army honors that by contributing to youth sports organizations, funding scholarships, and providing grants to charities that give children — especially those fighting illness — the chance to just be kids.

Support for Families in Crisis. When Addy was diagnosed, the Shepards were carried by the generosity of individuals and organizations who showed up without being asked. Addy's Army pays that forward — providing direct financial support and partnering with existing charities to ease the burden on families navigating the hardest days of their lives.

Research for a Cure. AML is relentless. Addy's Army raises funds for organizations working to find better treatments and, ultimately, a cure for childhood leukemia — so that fewer families ever have to walk the road the Shepards have walked.

Addy's smile was infectious. Her Army intends to be too.

Beyond Addy: Her Army

A lefty pitcher with an infectious smile and a heart too big for this world. Addy's joy lives on in every child who gets to just be a kid, every family who doesn't have to face the hardest days alone, and every step forward in the fight against childhood leukemia.

Experiences — Youth sports, scholarships, and grants so kids can live fully, just like Addy did.
Families — Financial support and crisis resources for families walking the road the Shepards know too well.
Research — Funding the fight for better treatments and a cure for AML and childhood leukemia.

"Your little one comes to your side; her unseen hands reassuring you that all is well." — Dr. Ken Maslonka

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