For the Woolfries family, the road ahead is still winding. But at Ronald McDonald House Toronto, wrapped in the quiet strength of this community, they’ve found something they’ll carry with them always: proof that even in life’s darkest chapters, love shows up. And sometimes, it even makes dinner.

When the Woolfries family drove the winding roads from Stayner to Toronto, they weren’t just headed south on a map — they were crossing into a new version of life. Two hours from home, far from the familiar rhythms of their small town near Collingwood, they were stepping into something they never imagined would be theirs to face. 

It all started on September 4. A day like any other — until it wasn’t. 

That’s the day Mandy and Bruce’s youngest son, Hunter, was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, B-cell. Just nine years old, Hunter’s world, and that of his whole family, was turned completely upside down. 

“Hunter discovered he had this illness and it was going to change his life completely,” Mandy recalls. “Zane, our 12-year-old, left for school that morning and came home to find his grandma waiting instead of us. We were at SickKids. Life as we knew it just… shifted.” 

From that moment on, the Woolfries’ days became divided — not just by hospitals and appointments, but by geography, worry, and an overwhelming love stretching across kilometres of highway. Mandy took a leave from work to be with Hunter in Toronto, while Bruce stayed back in Stayner with Zane, working full-time and keeping life as steady as possible for their oldest son. On weekends, the family stitched themselves back together in person. Weeknights, it was video calls. Every moment counted. 

“Life has been turned upside down,” Bruce says. “Not just because of the diagnosis — which, of course, was a massive shock — but because of the distance. The hardest part has been not being able to all be together.” 

That’s where Ronald McDonald House Charities Toronto came in. 

Their social worker at SickKids, Wendy Sharma, introduced them to RMHC Toronto — and suddenly, the impossible felt slightly more manageable. Suddenly, they had a place to stay, to breathe, to eat, to rest… and, most importantly, to be together. 

“If the House didn’t exist, I honestly don’t know what we would have done,” Mandy says. “We don’t have friends or family in Toronto. Hotels are too expensive. Bruce would drive back and forth from Stayner, but we were drowning already with the cost of parking and food. Without this place, the stress would’ve been unbearable.” 

Inside the walls of the House, though, the family found something remarkable: normalcy in the most abnormal time of their lives. 

There were dinners, prepared by Chef Michael — wholesome, hearty meals that felt like a gift after long, emotional days. “Michael is wonderful,” Bruce says. “He even made a point to remember my food allergy in our first week here. Just one less thing to worry about.” For Hunter, mealtimes became an adventure — he loved the excitement of trying new foods, especially when his appetite wavered. 

There were woodworking workshops with Alex, movie nights in the Media Room, and quiet connections formed with other families who understood — without having to say a word. “Just being able to talk while cooking or doing an activity with someone who gets it… it helps,” says Mandy.  

“You don’t have to put on a brave face. We’re all in it together.” 

And then there were the simple, sacred moments. Zane and Hunter laughing over Minecraft. Bruce reaching over to squeeze Mandy’s knee. A shared look, a shared meal, a shared breath. 

“Family is everything,” Mandy says. “Cancer has taken so much from Hunter, from all of us. But when we’re together — really together — it feels like we can do this. Even if just for a moment, it feels like things could be alright again.” 

Being part of the RMHC Toronto community helped make those moments possible. “You never want to be part of this club,” Mandy adds. “But if you have to be, you want to be here — with people who get it, people who care. Every staff member, from the front desk to the kitchen, has made us feel seen, heard, and supported. They know Hunter by name. They smile, chat, and remind us that there is life beyond this. That this is just one stop along the way.” 

As the Woolfries family continues on their journey — marked by bravery, love, and an unshakable bond — they carry the strength of those moments with them. The laughter. The hugs. The meals. The squeals over a new Lego creation. The quiet, everyday wins that tell them, even now, even here: they are not alone. 

To learn more about the families RMHC Toronto supports, click here.