Florentina Rose Burton.
Born on May 26, 2017.
Left this world on November 15, 2024.
Forever 7.

She had been fighting neuroblastoma since May 2021, a battle that spanned over three years of hospitals, chemotherapy, doctors, and fragile hope.

From the very beginning, she was not just a patient — she was a little girl with dreams, laughter, and a spark that could brighten even the darkest days.

Florentina was sweet, loving, and spirited.
She had a bold personality that often made people smile even in moments of despair.

She loved the color pink.
She adored unicorns.
She believed in magic, and in her world, every day held a new adventure, every corner a secret waiting to be discovered.

Her mother, Amelia Marino, remembers those small moments that defined Florentina’s light.
The way her tiny hands would reach for crayons, filling pages with scribbles that were her own kind of masterpieces.

The way her giggles could echo across a room, breaking the heaviness that illness tried to impose.
The way she clutched her stuffed animals, each one a companion in her journey, each one a source of comfort through pain and fear.

Months before her passing, Florentina’s battle intensified.
Her tumor, after treatment abroad in Rome, returned with ferocity.

It doubled in size, becoming aggressive and unyielding.
It blocked her gut again, necessitating an NJ tube for feeding and an NG tube with a bile bag to ease her nausea.

The doctors delivered news that shattered her family’s world.
Her tumor had developed two new mutations, both incurable, resistant even to Lorlatinib.
The realization that she now faced four mutations filled her mother with indescribable fear and sorrow.

Her little body, exhausted from years of chemotherapy, could no longer endure more treatment.
Her bone marrow was too weak, her blood counts too low.
Any further chemotherapy would risk secondary cancer — there were simply no more options.

They made the painful decision to move to end-of-life care at home.
Time was limited.
Every moment was precious.

Her mother wrote, “We are cherishing every minute with her and holding her tight. Our hearts are shattered into a million pieces.”
Every hug, every glance, every whispered “I love you” was both an act of defiance against the cruel disease and a testament to the love they shared.

At 8:15 p.m. on the night of the November supermoon, Florentina passed peacefully.
Amelia described it beautifully: “Heaven was given an angel.

 She passed away on the night of the supermoon. I know she touched many hearts.

She was a true inspiration and we are so proud of her.”

Even in her absence, her mother continued to feel her presence everywhere.
In the sunlight, in the quiet moments, in the stars and the moon — Florentina’s spirit lingered.
“Six months ago, my world changed forever,” Amelia wrote.
“Losing you, my sweet daughter, is a pain that words will never fully capture.”

Every day without Florentina felt incomplete.
Her voice, her laughter, her tiny hands, and her immense love were gone, yet they lived in the memories and in the echoes of the hearts she touched.
Grief became a constant companion.

Some days Amelia could barely breathe under its weight.
Other days, she smiled through tears, holding tight to the memories they had made.
“She is always with me, in every heartbeat, in every breath. I carry her love, her spirit, her light. I will carry it for the rest of my life.”

Florentina’s story is not only one of heartbreak, but also of courage and inspiration.
Despite a body ravaged by disease, her soul remained radiant.

She taught her family and everyone who knew her about bravery, joy, and the small beauties in life that often go unnoticed.
Her love continues — in the laughter of children, in acts of kindness, in whispered memories, and in every star that shines at night.

Her mother spoke of the cruel irony of her illness, of the battles waged in hospitals, of the tears shed in quiet hallways, and of the overwhelming powerlessness against a disease that was so relentless.
Yet through it all, Amelia celebrated her daughter’s life, her personality, and the unyielding love that filled every room she entered.

Even as Florentina’s body grew weaker, her spirit shone brighter than ever.
Every smile, every hug, every whispered word was a rebellion against the cruelty of cancer.
Her presence reminded those around her of what truly matters — love, joy, courage, and connection.

“She should have been five now,” Amelia reflected.
“She should have been running, learning, making mischief, filling the house with laughter.”
But instead, she became a light that guides from above, a memory that refuses to fade, a love that cannot be contained by space or time.

Amelia’s grief is a testament to their bond.
“It feels like six months without you is both forever and only yesterday. But my love for you is endless. I love you and miss you so very much, Florentina.”

In the quiet of the night, under the glow of the supermoon, the world paused for a moment to honor the life of a little girl who embodied courage beyond her years.
Even as the disease tried to steal her, Florentina’s spirit remained untouchable, her joy indomitable, her love infinite.

Florentina’s journey reminds everyone that life, even when brief, can leave an indelible mark.
She taught her family how to love fiercely, how to hold on even in heartbreak, and how to find beauty amidst pain.
Her story is a testament to the power of light over darkness, of love over loss.

Her mother’s words echo for all who loved her:
“Fly so high, sweet girl. We love you, Angel.”

Florentina Rose Burton may have left the world at seven, but her heart, spirit, and light will continue to inspire for generations to come.
Every star in the sky now carries a piece of her, every pink ribbon, every unicorn, a whisper of her presence.
She lives forever — not in years, but in hearts, memories, and the infinite love she left behind.

Even in grief, there is hope.
Even in loss, there is beauty.
Even in death, there is light.

And in every heartbeat, every breath, Florentina is still there.