Monthly Archives: October 2017


I sit here with my hands in my lap and no costume to decorate. No sale to try and catch. No frustration over not finding an item. Or rush to celebrate. Nothing. I’ve been cut off at the knees, as my child was ripped from us, with only a whisper of her name still literally coming out of my mouth. I could almost touch her… and hear her breathe still. But she’s gone… forever. 
That silly Child. Always changing the names of her costumes to fit what she actually wanted. Adding princess, or fairy, or good, to adjust its meaning to her liking. Making faces at each and every option we looked at. In the end, her tiny happy bones, her never ending smile, and perfect Halloween 🎃 face always satisfied. Do we buy the makeup. Do we color the hair. Smiles. Planning the annual party. Decorations. A 10 foot ghost. Candelabras galore. We had one every year…
I got seven years. Be happy you say… She would want that. So would they. Seven long years… Well I won’t, and you should know better. Not today, or ever. I’ll take that seven years a million times, but I won’t be comforted in those seven years, or the time that I had that is gone. And you wouldn’t either… My chance with her for years to come will always be stolen and it will ruin everything. Yes she wouldn’t want me to suffer, but what she would want more wasn’t to die, or watch me suffer today watching those who have most certainly lost the point of this holiday being about their children, and their joy… Shaking my head here, and in tears. No, she would definitely not have wanted that. 
Yep, there is no craziness for us, and no care to celebrate. Those decorations haven’t been out for two of these holidays now, and she’s been gone for just over one. Just frustration and words almost said to her and to everyone else here. We can’t speak, we’re still stunned. We don’t rush to find items, we hide to avoid the thoughts of her in every happy child we see. Your children. We don’t plan out the events that lay ahead, we make excuses as to why we can’t go without her to the festivities that are planned. Your events. 
Everything stopped for us. And we were left standing in the smoky Halloween air. Four people, in the fog. You can just make out our outline, if you try. Hand in hand… Just an empty space next to us, with a silhouette of a little girl. Age seven. And years of loss weighing down on her. The weight that shows on us too. Heavy. As others walk by, whispering words of encouragement to us… but we don’t move, we just stare forward and fight to not fall apart. To stay up. To not let go. To not change the presence we still feel of her. Here. Forever… 
That is our Halloween… And thank you #DIPG.
#KatherineTheBrave 👻 🎃

Dirty Paws

Dirty Paws would have been a song that Katherine and I would have talked about and deciphered. We would have whittled it down to reasons why the animals were fighting, the results of that, and how it could have been avoided. It would have made us laugh, and get serious, and then back to laughing. Tori and Alissa would have joined us. Adding their opinions. She loved context and would have imagined a happy ending for both sides. Just like we would have all wished for for her. I miss her. I want to bury my head today. I’m tired. So tired.


She haunts every space, and we crave it… It hurts us in every possible way, yet we feed off of it. Like she’s tiptoeing and peeking around each thought, and we have thoughts to encourage her presence. With the truth and travesty of her final year following right behind her, ready to expose us as well. The joy of her, never alone without the heartache. 
You see, I see her photo as I pass her shelf. My child’s memory… now adorning a shelf of trinkets. I never envisioned this is how her life would end. She would help me decorate that shelf with pictures and flowers once. Perfect organizations of each framed photo facing forward, in unison. Could you imagine? Your child… No, it’s not enough for me… this shelf. My body and soul can’t process the meaning of her new presence against that wall, in our dining room. My child was alive. She stared into my eyes and spoke every emotion within them. I have visions of those times. Before I was me, here… my cheeks are hot. My head is foggy. My eyes are watering. I can’t make this better. I’ve lost my chance. 
So right about now, I’m wondering how long we can live this way. Pretending to be like everyone else. Without the child we once loved, and with a new shelf (existence) we aren’t sure how to be a part of. She was our world, and we cherished her. We nourished her, and we grew with her. And then we gave her poison to try and save her. And worse yet, we gave her promises and lies to save ourselves.
“Anything to make you smile. You were the ever living ghost of what once was. No one is ever going to love you more than I do…”