I don’t think ANYONE can understand the complete and utter disaster my mind is in as I even begin to contemplate going through Katherine’s belongings.
“I’m on a craft of some sort, floating, and sick to my stomach, headed to a shore, my goal. I have to begin, get off this boat, about 1 mile before I reach my goal, the shore. With no assistance, no preparation for what’s to come. No idea which direction I’m going. I see an end point. Maybe… No idea what I’m doing. I wade through the water and floating debris of my daughters life, for a mile or more. Carrying lbs. and lbs. of cargo, stress, and pain, on my back. In my mind. Fear is gripping me. Should I turn back. Maybe tomorrow. Praying I don’t let the water and anxiety overtake me, so that I am lost forever. Avoiding the seriously dangerous thoughts coming at me from all directions. Shots of memories, regret, and missed moments in time. These “things” are coming at me, and decisions must be made. Box. Trash. Give away. Stare. Cry. Breathe. Cry. Hate. Breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I have to get through this… I need to focus. I have to get to shore. I have to save myself, before the process of removing my daughter from this corner of the shore takes over and expands into every area of my life, similar to how this cancer spread through her mind. Freely. Almost as if it received a warm welcome. I can’t let that happen. But I don’t want to do this. I want to give up, even though I know I already have.”
A glimpse. The first two pictures are where my daughter was with me. Strong. Alive. Fighting. The second picture is how my daughters life exists now thanks to DIPG. A pile of memories. To be gone through. To be sorted. Overflowing and feared. Cancerous. This is where we are drowning mentally every singe time we gather the strength to even contemplate going through her life. We’re at war with it. #LessThanFour did not just kill Katherine, it’s killing us. Slowly.