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I bought buckets yesterday. Storage buckets. The sturdy kind. Bigger than normal. Big enough to bury some memories. Big enough to hide away 7 years. Oh, and school supplies. For a college student. Not an elementary student. The way it should have also been.
Such a simple purchase for so many. For me before Katherine. With goals of organizing something in our lives that’s nagging at us. To hold possessions and memories and things needed during different seasons and turns of life. Thinking about it enthusiastically. Excited to get it done. And I was frozen.
I stood in front of the shelf and it suddenly hit me, as if I wasn’t already aware. But clarity is not a positive moment for parents of loss, in most cases. What the hell was I doing? I was buying buckets for my dead child’s most personal affects. People behind me buying clothes, and school supplies. And here I was... buying this.
My buckets were to hold a dead 7 year olds “stuff”. My 7 year old Katherine. How did my child accumulate so much of this stuff. In piles taller than me. It’s like she was holding on to this life with all of her might. Collecting pieces of herself on the way out. Fighting for more time with the ownership these things. As if having them meant there would have to be more time somehow in her mind. Why would life give you so much, and then take you away before you had time to enjoy it?
Well, there wasn’t more time. They now sit silent and dusty. Like much of ourselves. I realize, again, that cancer didn’t care about her plans. Or ours. It wanted her gone. And quickly. No fight. No chance. No Saturday organization to look forward too. No new seasons to begin. Just buckets full of her life. You might as well pack mine along with it.KatherineTheBrave
17 years old. Whole life ahead of him. He has been battling Neuoroblastoma since 2004. He fought so hard for so long, but sadly, he lost that fight. Cancer may have won another round, but it will soon meet it's end. RIP Ben.
Old age is not lost on me. I’m noticing small things. My body is not at all happy with me. I’m tying to make peace with it. I’m trying to age gracefully as we all do, but I feel as if the process sped up in my case. A rapid aging of my mind and soul. My body is catching up to my mind I suppose. They are not in sync at all.
As if old age wasn’t bad enough, I’m so devastated that I have to experience a majority of the rest of my long, slow, new awareness without one of my children to lean on and celebrate our milestones together. It makes each change in my life, each new realization of the natural process of aging so awkward and strange. I relish Tori and Alissas experiences and I share mine, but we all feel something is missing. There was another little person that walked alongside us and she just disappeared.
These natural occurrences are already so hard to stomach, but when we have those young beautiful people to make us feel like we accomplished something it makes it so much easier. Well... one of my beautiful young reminders of why I exist is gone. She wont get to grow old. Or age. Or enjoy any milestones but the ripe old age of 6. I feel guilty and sad that she lost that chance. And completely heartbroken that she won’t see mine.
I will think of her when I pass. So fondly and softly she will be in my heart. I pray that if everyone is right, then I will get to finally see her, or at least finally be at peace with this loss. That’s the only hope that I have left.
One of those, stop, it hits you, you can’t breath for a moment, feel a tightness in your chest, and tear up constantly, kind of days... deep breaths. In and out.