A year ago today my house, my heart and my LIFE were so full of love I could’ve burst. I was truly the happiest I have ever been in my entire life. Family and friends in town for a celebration of life, victory and health….one year ago today was Kate’s “No More Chemo” party.
I will never pretend to understand why we were given this remarkable gift only to have it ripped away. While selfish, I know I could have handled her cancer again. I could have handled her relapse. I could handle anything thrown our way…but not this. Not what happened.
Continue reading “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”
Sweetheart, I miss you.
I hate that pain and longing are such an everyday part of my life that I don’t even recognize them as real emotions anymore. I hate that missing you is such a part of every day that I don’t even know that I’m doing it actively anymore. And I hate that when things like your clinic’s phone number popping up in my list of contacts doesn’t send me over the edge because now I just expect little things. Little pieces of you and what used to be our lives popping up every day.
Continue reading “Finding Words for “I Miss You””
One year ago today was the best day of my life. A re-birth of my precious daughter.
Continue reading “The Last Day of Treatment…That Wasn’t”
The day after Labor Day means the unofficial start of fall and here, in our county, it marks the first day of school. Kate should be starting kindergarten today. She should have been dropped off this morning with a new backpack full of supplies a cute new outfit on…and a bow in her hair. There should be a first day photo of her proudly smiling on our front porch. A classroom with a teacher excited to learn more about her. A desk with her name.
Childhood cancer took that right away from my little girl. It stole the opportunity of a lifetime of learning, starting right here, today. In a classroom at Dranseville Elementary School with new friends, new books, new people and new hope.
Instead of dropping her off and worrying about her all day, I visited her at the cemetery and miss her beautiful face.
This is childhood cancer. This is my life.