The Glen Adnam Cancer Comfort Basket Foundation carries my dad’s name, but behind that name is a person who meant so much to our family.
He was more than his cancer diagnosis.
He was a dad, a husband, a coach, a friend, and someone whose presence helped shape the people around him.
When people hear about the foundation, I want them to understand the man behind the mission. I want them to know that this work was created not only because of what cancer took from us, but because of the love, memories, and values my dad left behind.
More Than a Cancer Story
My dad was diagnosed with tonsil squamous cell carcinoma. His cancer later spread to his bones and liver.
Cancer became a major part of our family’s life, but it was never the whole of who he was.
Before the appointments, treatments, difficult days, and uncertainty, there was a full life.
There were family moments, laughter, memories, conversations, and the everyday things that become even more meaningful once someone is gone.
There were the ways he supported us, the things he taught us, and the love he gave without needing recognition.
Cancer may have changed our lives, but it did not define his.
A Dad Who Showed Up
Some of my strongest memories of my dad are tied to the way he showed up for our family.
He was involved. He coached. He encouraged us. He was present for the moments that mattered, including many of the ordinary moments we may not fully appreciate until later.
Those ordinary moments are often the ones grief brings back most clearly.
You remember the sound of someone’s voice.
The jokes they made.
The routines you shared.
The nicknames they called you.
The way they could make a place feel familiar simply by being there.
My dad called me Kenna and Kenny Beans. Those names may seem small, but to me, they hold a lifetime of love.
They remind me of who I was when he was here and of the relationship we shared.
The Loss That Changed Everything
My dad passed away in 2019.
That same year, I became a mother for the first time.
It was a year filled with beginnings and endings, love and grief, joy and heartbreak.
Losing a parent changes you.
There are moments when the grief is loud and impossible to ignore. There are also quieter moments when it appears unexpectedly—during a celebration, while hearing a song, when looking at your children, or when wishing you could call them to share something important.
There are so many moments when I wish my dad could see the life I am building.
I wish he could see my children growing.
I wish he could see the work I am doing.
I wish he could see the foundation carrying his name.
I hope he would be proud.
Turning Memory Into Action
For a long time, I carried the desire to do something meaningful in his memory.
The comfort basket project began as a way to provide thoughtful support to people facing cancer. Over time, I realized it could become something larger.
It could become a way to continue my dad’s legacy.
The foundation is not about pretending grief disappears. It is about choosing to build something loving alongside that grief.
Every basket packed, every patient supported, every caregiver remembered, and every family comforted becomes part of his legacy.
It allows his name to continue reaching people.
It allows the pain of losing him to be transformed into kindness for someone else.
The Values Behind the Foundation
The foundation is being built around values that remind me of my dad and of the kind of support families need during cancer.
Family
Cancer affects more than the person receiving the diagnosis. It affects spouses, children, parents, siblings, caregivers, and friends.
That is why our mission includes support for patients and the people who walk beside them.
Community
No one should have to carry the weight of cancer alone.
Communities are powerful when people choose to show up for one another. A donation, a meal, a ride, a message, or a comfort basket can remind someone that they are surrounded by care.
Compassion
We may not always know the perfect thing to say, but we can still offer kindness.
Compassion often appears through simple actions: listening, checking in, remembering an important date, or offering practical help.
Legacy
A legacy is not only what someone leaves behind.
It is what continues because they lived.
My dad’s legacy continues through our family, through the memories we share, and now through every act of comfort offered in his name.
Keeping His Story Alive
One of the reasons I created this foundation is because I never want my dad to become only a name or a photograph from the past.
I want his story to remain alive.
I want my children to know who their grandpa was.
I want people who never had the chance to meet him to understand why this mission matters so deeply to me.
I want families facing cancer to receive something meaningful and know that it was created from a real story of love, loss, and hope.
The Glen Adnam Cancer Comfort Basket Foundation exists because one man was deeply loved.
It exists because cancer changed our family.
It exists because grief made me understand how important it is to feel supported during life’s hardest moments.
Most importantly, it exists because I believe love can continue creating good, even after someone is gone.
His Name, His Legacy, Our Mission
My dad’s name is at the centre of this foundation, but the mission will grow through every person who becomes part of it.
It will grow through volunteers, donors, businesses, healthcare teams, families, and community members.
It will grow through every story shared and every basket delivered.
It will grow each time someone facing cancer is reminded that they matter.
This foundation is my way of saying:
Dad, you are still remembered.
You are still loved.
Your life still matters.
And your legacy is still making a difference.
