For years, October meant that I had an excuse to either dye or add an extension to my hair and that I was probably guaranteed to attend some sporting event with a pink-out theme.

I was happy to support breast cancer awareness (the reason all of the pink celebrations existed) but I had no connection to it. I had no intense desire to advocate for funding or research, but I was happy to participate in all the fun events.

Then my life changed two years ago and I suddenly understood what it all meant. Not exactly October, but the month right before.

In case you were unaware, the month of September is also Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Many organizations define a child differently, but most define it as children from birth to 18 years old. According to most research, an estimated 263,000 children are diagnosed with cancer every year. If you’ve heard of 46/7, you also know that 46 kids are diagnosed with cancer and seven kids die while battling cancer EVERY DAY.

I would have never known these numbers, nor would I have even probably known that September was childhood cancer awareness month until July of 2013 when my sister, Sarah, was diagnosed with stage-4 colon cancer.

She was only 15.

No one thinks this will happen to them. One day your little sister is heading to the doctor to check on a fever and back pain that has been bugging her and the next day she’s recovering from a surgery that removed a decent amount of her colon.

The days I spent excited about first days in college, I also spent in tears wondering how my family was doing and if my sister was doing well with her chemotherapy.

I watched my little sister, once full of so much energy and life, wither away in months. I would talk to my parents on the phone, hearing more about how she was staying another night in the hospital, trying to get just a little bit healthier to attempt another day of treatment. I fell and wept on my dorm room floor when my dad called to tell me that the doctors decided that no treatment could help my sister anymore; that my sister’s stupid disease was now terminal.

But I don’t want you to feel sorry for me or hear anymore about me.

I want you to know how incredibly strong my sister was. I want you to know that when my sister heard about how bad the cancer was, she may have been a little frightened, but she immediately wanted to start kicking its ass. That my sister was so, so tired and sore, but she did anything to make sure she could crack a smile on someone. When she was told she didn’t have much more time to live, she didn’t want us to cry anymore because she knew someone STILL somehow had it worse than she did. My sister was so loveable and captivating that she drew thousands of people, and even celebrities like Tom Cruise, to rally around and support her and my family (though she hated having so much attention).

My sister was a superhero.

Sarah passed away Dec. 7, 2013. Five months after she was diagnosed with colon cancer.

It is a day I will never forget. A piece of my heart died and I’m not quite sure it will ever come back, but it also lit a fire in me that had been smoking for quite some time.

Today, only four percent of federal funding is solely dedicated to childhood cancer research. While pharmaceutical companies fund almost 60 percent of drug development for adult cancers, the companies fund almost nothing for children. This is insane and this is something we need to change.

I refuse to accept the idea that every day 46 more families will have the wind knocked out of them when a doctor tells them that their child has cancer-- that every day seven more families will have their hearts shattered just like mine was.

The month of September means a great deal to me now. It’s a time to promote to many people that there is funding that needs to be fulfilled. It’s a time to educate more people on the facts of childhood cancer. It’s a time to celebrate the victories, pray for and support those currently fighting, and remember those who lost their battles. I will do this year round, but I am thankful that for at least one month, it gets some attention.

So yes, I will continue to put the pink strip in my hair and buy the pink shirt come October, but for now, I will continue to spread the word on childhood cancer awareness (and colon cancer awareness) and rep my gold loud and proud.

This one is for you, Sarah Jo.