Hello friends,

I wanted to take a moment to personally introduce myself. My name is Holly, and I have the privilege of serving as the fundraising champion and community coordinator for Aidan Tavaly’s liver transplant journey.

For those who don’t know, Aidan is the  son of my lifelong friend — and like family to me. Watching this incredible young man face stage 4 liver disease with such courage has been both heartbreaking and inspiring. His mom, Nichole,  has shown unimaginable strength while navigating medical care, transplant readiness at NYU, and the daily challenges of holding her family together under intense stress.

I’ve known the Miezejewski/Tavaly family for decades. They are kind, funny, resilient,  fiercely loyal – and loud! Nichole (Nicky) would walk into my house, straight to the kitchen and ask – what, no apples? C’mon Mary. Mom would yell something, Nic would call her Old Yeller and we went about as you do when you’re a teenager. You call dad for a ride to the mall, Mary (the other Mary) will pick us up later. Sometimes Mimi Mary would drive us into NYC during the holidays, and that was amazing!

My mom loved Nichole and was fiercely protective of her and her children. If my mom were here today she would do what she did best, make this awkward, funny and bearable. Even when Timothy was 16 she still called him Tibby, and I would spend Christmas Eve putting together whatever thing with moving parts Santa had for Tibby. Of course I traded my time and labor for all of the Dinonuggets in the freezer. Then there was Christmas Eve when Syd cut her bangs. Dang it I only had her for 30mins till a real adult came back. You can not lie about cutting your bangs. Esp not with scissors in your hand! Later that night more chosen family came over, the kids dressed as Disney princes and princesses and Tibby ate Dinonuggets and played video games. I slept on the couch and it snowed that Christmas morning. Small things that have been etched in memory like the broken ceiling fan on Thanksgiving when, we’ll blame Kevin, someone threw turkey at the ceiling while trying to explain Tribe’s Scenario to Vince. Chickity Choco the chocolate chicken. The Real.. .. As you do on Thanksgiving right before tucking into A Christmas Story.

Our families met needs and filled gaps where you wouldn’t know there was one. I met Nichole when we were.. 5? 6? Rachel’s mom was Girlscout Leader and Pauline went to Sacred Heart with Nicky.

My dad took us backpacking, Nichole called him The Practical Paleontologist, after a book we saw at the Nature Company. He took us to the beach. We listened to Cassingles of early 90s hiphop and repeated lines from Bevis and Butthead. 

We babysat VJ. We shot nerf missiles at each other’s heads. One of VJ’s kids (Jude?) nailed me in the head with a soccer ball last Thanksgiving I was home.
Mary (Mimi) shared a good friend with my Aunt Kathy – Karen (Barney) Bove. I was her flowergirl.

While going on and on the memories are so strong and filled with so much fierce and protective love.

While sharing these stories I hope to spark those 90s hip hop lyrics from deep in your brain (Blacksheep?) and remember how it feels to be so close to someone that is not blood. Someone who somehow you were lucky enough to find, lucky enough to keep, lucky enough to share each other’s housekeys (there were no housekeys) lucky enough to never need an invite to the table.

As we launch and grow this fundraiser through the Children’s Organ Transplant Association (COTA), I’m here to answer any questions, brainstorm creative fundraising ideas, or connect people who want to help in any way — no matter how big or small.

💡 We also have a few volunteer roles open, and I’d love to hear from anyone who feels called to contribute their time or talents. Whether you’re great with graphics, outreach, hosting events, or organizing behind the scenes — your help matters.

Thank you for reading, sharing, and supporting. Please don’t hesitate to reach out directly — I’m here for this community every step of the way.

With gratitude,