At this time last week we were told that our daughter had minutes to live. And at this very same time last week, I called bullshit….
Parker was Katie’s friend. Even if it was brief in time, she thought he was sweet. Whenever I talked about Parker, she would smile. She sent him a funny video once, he responded with another funny video. From then on, they were forever friends. He loves Legos like she did. Our first introduction to Parker was so touching. He was very shy, he wouldn’t even look up at us when his mom and dad carried him into the restaurant. (thank you steroids) I said, “Katie, give him his gift…” (which she picked out). So Katie walked a big bag over to him, he looked in the bag, dad pulled out some Legos, he looked at Katie and for the first time smiled, than looked back at the Legos and smiled even bigger, and he played with his Legos the entire meal as us parents discussed the horror of this diagnosis, and the fight we both had in the near future.
I will always hold a special place in my heart for Parker and his family. Parker’s family owns a belief in their heart, which is very similar to ours, that transparency is key in this fight. Just read their stories, they are so heartfelt. Private conversations indiscretion are why our children were given a 0% survival rate. It’s why no one has heard of it, including us, until their affected intimately. We’re all in this together. It could be any of us next.
Please follow Hope for Parker, and walk this journey with Mark and Jennifer, supporting them. We are hoping that he, Parker’, is the one. He is so tough, and I believe he is going to make a huge difference, just as Katherine has.
#PleaseShareParkersStory #PleaseShareKatherinesStory #HopeForParker
David and I have been trying to get out more. We hadn’t seen the light of day practically, in what feels like months….I know, I’m exaggerating. But there were days on end that we hadn’t, and towards the end we didn’t leave the house for a few weeks. We couldn’t leave her. We didn’t want to leave her. Miss something. Make her feel abandoned. Fail her in some way. We disappeared socially for months.
So from Tuesday thru Saturday David and I have realized (and have discussed the fact that) we are self medicating by soaking up the affection of the people around us socially, and going anywhere and everywhere we can. We spent last week visiting nieces and nephews to show them that we’re ok: they were all so very concerned about Aunty Jaime and Uncle David. I wanted to ease their minds. We are trying to get some space from the reality of it all. Get out of this home, where the memories never fail to appear around each and every corner of the house. I am fearful of forgetting any little thing, but just as fearful of remembering and suffering with those memories. It’s a constant battle we are playing in our head.
Today was a little different. We planned our little get away for the family. Cleaned up the house. Cleaned my office. Talked. Cried… A lot. We faced some things. We still haven’t touched her stuff. I can’t yet. We did finalize Katherine’s cremation however, hence the crying…
Katherine’s cremation is Wednesday. I did not want to attend this. I had been cemented with that decision since we were told she had cancer and would die, however David insists that we are there for our daughter during this event, and he is right. We owe it to her to say goodbye one more time. I just fear the finality of it all. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. Stalling and pushing it further every day. Nothing is good enough. The wrong time. The wrong place. The wrong items to go with her. The wrong urn. The wrongful death of my child. It’s just all wrong.
The finality of picking a day and time and place, at long last, had pushed me back mentally, and emotionally, to the day she died. We both felt like a Mack truck had hit us all over again. Last night I woke up three times to check on her. Oddly… I hadn’t done that past the first or second night without her. It’s back and it’s frustrating. Still no dreams about her. However, David’s dreams are vivid. He sees her dying, over, and over, and over again… Every morning, as he moves from slumber to awareness, she’s struggling to breathe her last breaths. He ends up in a panic. Maybe that’s why I fear the dreams, and they aren’t coming, as I would want sweet dreams of Katherine, and only sweet dreams. She was our sweet dream for 7 years. I can’t let my subconscious ruin that for me.
Thank you Lauren for this video from one week ago today. The day before she passed. I forgot about this moment. Because of these recordings, we are consistently reminded of how special that time was with her. I will never regret our decision to have you there with us for the last few days.
We miss you Katie Baby. Loves and kisses sweetie, and we are so sorry.