Maybe That's Enough
We didn't start a coffee company. We started a promise.
A little over ten years ago, my wife Patricia Muyshondt and I found ourselves asking the same question every family facing childhood cancer eventually asks.
Why?
Why our son?
Why our family?
Why was this happening to us?
Pipe was only two years old. It was September 1st, 2015, the first day of Pediatric Cancer Awareness Month. A coincidence we never asked for, and one we will never forget.
Just a couple of weeks before we knew cancer could happen to us. One of the photos I look at when I need to remember why I work in pediatric healthcare, and why we built this.
Like every parent, we wanted to protect our son from everything the world could throw at him. Yet there we were, sitting in a hospital, listening to words no family ever wants to hear, trying to make sense of something that made no sense at all.
And like so many families before us, we learned very quickly that no one fights childhood cancer alone.
Family showed up.
Friends showed up.
Acquaintances showed up.
Doctors showed up.
Nurses showed up.
Even strangers showed up.
This is Erica, from his anesthesiology team. This was taken on the way to one of Pipe's many surgeries. He loved her. She loved him. This is what 'people showed up' looks like.
People who owed us nothing gave us their time, their prayers, their encouragement, and sometimes even their resources. They helped carry us when we couldn't even carry ourselves.
That experience changed me forever. It changed Patty. It changed our sons Fernando Muyshondt and Marcelo — Fernando, who watched his little brother fight, and Marcelo, who came into this world in the middle of that battle. It changed our entire family.
And although cancer eventually took Pipe from us, it never took the lessons we learned from fighting it.
The most important lesson of all:
Healing is something we don't do alone.
Months later, when I was invited to interview for a position at Driscoll Children's Hospital, that lesson was still with me. In fact, before I was ever offered the job, I wrote two words on a piece of paper.
Healing Together.
I wasn't thinking about branding. I wasn't thinking about campaigns. I was thinking about what our family had lived. Because I knew firsthand that healing isn't something a child does alone. It isn't something parents do alone. It isn't something doctors do alone. Healing happens when families, clinicians, friends, neighbors, communities, and complete strangers come together around a child.
Over time, Healing Together evolved into Together, We Heal.
Marcelo. He was born in the middle of his brother Pipe's fight. This is him, years later, standing in front of the words I wrote on a piece of paper before I ever got the job. Some things come full circle.
Today it is Driscoll's brand promise. But for me, it has always been much more than a slogan. It has been a belief. A belief born from a little boy named Pipe.
And in many ways, that belief has shaped everything I've done since. It shaped my decision to leave ad agency life and enter pediatric healthcare. It shaped how I lead my team. It shaped the culture we've built. It shaped the work we produce.
And now, four years into this chapter, it has shaped something else.
Today, my wife Patty and our sons Fernando and Marcelo are launching Pipe's Brave Brew.
Our first order ever! We wrote this note as a family. We drove together to the post office together to drop it off. All of us... including Pipe. Melissa — Thank you!
People keep asking me if I'm excited to become an entrepreneur. The truth is, that's not how we think about it. This isn't a startup to me. It's a continuation of a story.
For months we struggled with what to call it. We explored dozens of ideas.
Purpose.
Hope.
Gratitude.
Legacy.
Healing.
All of them felt right. All of them represented a piece of the journey. But eventually we realized something. Those weren't the reason this company existed.
Pipe was.
So why would we call it anything else? If this company is going to help children, then his name belongs on it. Not hidden. Not buried in an About page of the website. Right there on every bag.
Pipe's Brave Brew.
His face on the package. His name on the company. His story continuing to travel farther than we ever could ourselves.
There's another reason the name felt right. The coffee itself follows the same journey our family did. The beans begin their life in El Salvador, on land that has been part of our family's story for generations.
The Chaparrastique Volcano, San Miguel, El Salvador. This is where our family's land is. This is where the beans begin their journey. And somehow, this is also where Pipe's story started — long before any of us knew where it would take us.
The same country where Pipe grew up. The same country where our lives changed forever. Then the coffee travels to Texas. It's roasted here. Packaged here. Fulfilled here. Shipped from here.
Grown in El Salvador. Made in Texas.
Just like us, the Muyshondts.
When Pipe was diagnosed, our family left El Salvador and came to Texas searching for hope. Searching for treatment. Searching for a chance. Texas became the place where our family was transformed. It's where we fought. It's where we grieved. It's where we healed. It's where we found purpose. It's where we became the family we are today. And somehow, without us planning it, the coffee ended up telling that same story.
People also ask why coffee.
The answer has nothing to do with coffee. It's about help.
Every morning, millions of people reach for a cup of coffee because it gives them a little extra energy to face the day ahead. Just a little help. And sometimes that's exactly what families facing childhood cancer need. Not grand gestures. Not miracles. Just a little help. A reminder that someone cares. A reminder that they are not alone. A reminder that someone is standing beside them.
For every bag we sell, $1 goes directly to pediatric oncology at Driscoll Children's Hospital in South Texas, where I work today.
Patty and I talk often about what success looks like. And surprisingly, it has very little to do with coffee. Success isn't revenue. Success isn't distribution. Success isn't growth.
For us, for this company, success is helping.
Maybe it's funding something that makes a child's stay in the hospital a little less scary. Maybe it's helping Child Life create moments of joy during treatment. Maybe it's supporting entertainment systems, games, or experiences that allow kids to feel like kids while they fight battles no child should ever have to fight.
And then there's another dream. A bigger dream.
Pipe connected to his IV on his first day of chemo. This is the courage we're trying to honor. This is the brave, in Pipe's Brave Brew.
One day, if we're successful enough, I hope there is a bell inside Driscoll Children's Hospital with Pipe's name on it. A bell that children ring when they complete treatment. A bell that celebrates courage. A bell that celebrates hope. A bell that celebrates life.
We know what that bell sounds like. We rang it at UT MD ANDERSON CANCER CENTER . More than once. Four times, actually. And every single time, we meant it with everything we had.
We just couldn't keep it.
So I imagine standing there one day with Patty, Fernando, and Marcelo. Silent. Watching another family ring it. Watching them feel what we felt. Knowing that this time, for them, it holds.
Not because we built a successful business. Not because we sold a lot of coffee.
But because we helped. Because another child gets to ring that bell. Because another family gets to celebrate. Because another child gets to go home.
And somewhere on that bell, I hope there's a smiling little boy named Pipe.
Not because we want people to remember my son.
Because we want them to remember theirs.
We want every child who rings that bell to know that someone fought before them. That someone inspired others through that fight. That someone is still helping children today. And that they, too, matter. That their story matters. That their courage matters. That whether they win that battle or lose it, they will always be remembered by the people who love them.
Because no child should ever be forgotten.
For ten years, I've carried the same question.
Why?
I don't know that I'll ever fully answer it. But maybe purpose has helped me get a little closer. Because if this company helps even one child, if it helps even one family, if it gives hope to someone who needs it — then maybe the pain wasn't wasted. Maybe something beautiful came from it. Maybe something good came from it.
And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.
Today, we don't fight cancer from a hospital. We don't fight it with surgeries, radiation, or chemotherapy. We fight it from a website. We fight it with coffee. You can join the fight at pipesbravebrew.com