It is just as simple and as complicated as this.
Some days I do okay. Then days like today I fight…FIGHT. I work at it all day long to choke back the tears until my throat hurts and I collapse at home unable to do anything but pull the covers over my head and sit numbly wondering what’s next.
Kate, you should be here. Because you were only four years, six months and six days old. Because you had the “good kind.” Because from day one, you did so remarkably well. Because we did “everything right.” But because of some God-only-knows reason, you are gone. You are gone because we failed you. Because you, as a child, weren’t a priority for our nation, there were no medications available to you to keep your cancer from coming back. So then why did we torture you with it for two years if it wasn’t going to work?? It shouldn’t have come back and it damn sure shouldn’t have come back as fast and relentlessly as it did. You were going to be okay…everyone thought so.
And so I lost you. I lost you FOREVER. You won’t be coming back and this is the life, the hole, the emptiness we have to live with in the wake of your absence. And I do mean the wake…because the waves have knocked me down over and over again and I’m just sometimes really tired of getting back up.
I miss you Kate. Every single smart, tender-hearted, kind, loving, silly, funny, quirky, beautiful ounce of you.