365 days.

Dear mom,

Well, it’s been a year since you’ve been gone. I still remember everything about March 17, 2014 at 6:35 pm. I remember the smells, the emotions and the sound of the monitor not making a sound. I remember thinking “this is it…my life’s over”. I remember crying hysterically and realizing that you would never be able to do so many things again. I’d never hear “I love you”, you’d never see me graduate, you’d never meet my husband and you’d never meet your grandkids. It was somewhere along this list of ‘nevers’ that I realized you were finally at peace. Somewhere amidst my hysterical crying and ranting and yelling at hospital staff I realized that this was the best thing that could have happened to you at this point in the battle against cancer. I realized I had to grow up and be brave – not only for myself, but for my family and my friends. At 22 I didn’t really expect to lose the most influential person in my entire life, but that’s life and that’s just it…you can’t plan this kind of crap. I’m not sure why I expected you to be like Dumbledore and live forever…but I think when you’re growing up you just do. You expect them to be there every step of the way. You expect them to send you care packages and listen to all your self-absorbed problems. You expect them to give you words of wisdom when you don’t get an award or get dumped by a jerk. For me, most of those expectations went out the window on August 11, 2013 the day you started seizing uncontrollably. You were never quite the same after that episode of seizures. You needed to learn to communicate, walk and use your hands again. I remember shortly after you arrived home (for the first time since August 9) in October we let you peel the shrimp. 45 minutes later we were able to cook the shrimp and finish the meal. It was that day I officially learned about patience. Looking back I can remember always wanting to be with you and helping you with everything – especially in the kitchen. What would have taken you 10 or 15 minutes to whip up took an additional 20 or 30 because I was “helping”. That quote about life not being a destination and it being about the journey really hit me hard. Watching you peel those shrimp with such little coordination and such strong determination I was suddenly so thankful for all those times you gave me a chance and watched me behave the same way.

I remember spending my 22 birthday with you at Lake Taylor Rehab center last year. I walked into an empty hospital room – you were nowhere to be found. As my heart was racing a million miles a minute every bad thing that could have possibly happened was going through my head. A nurse saw me beginning to panic and brought me down to the physical therapy room. I watched through the big glass windows as you practiced walking around the room with your old lady walker and little assistance. I could have watched you for hours. I was so proud of that woman that once watched me walk across a room. As soon as you saw me though the PT for the day was done because you were more focused on telling the therapists how much you loved me and how proud of me you were. I remember wheeling you back to your room and spending the day talking about all the things you’d been able to re-learn. Your words weren’t all back yet so I had to guess which ones you were trying to say. Sometimes it was frustrating because you couldn’t articulate what you felt or meant, but other times it was hysterical trying to understand what you were asking or saying. I never thought it’d be my last birthday with you, but I’m so thankful I was able to spend that time with you and learn about humility and love. Even while you were fighting this stupid disease with everything you had – you’d talk about us, tell the nurses how important or special we all were and make sure we were okay. Whenever you would lean back to take a nap the last thing you’d say was “where’s Michael”. You knew there was nothing you could do, but you were constantly thinking about what others could do for him. You are the reason I believe in selfless love.  

This year has really been focused on finding things to live for and exhibiting inner strength at all times. When you were sick there was a sense of adrenaline inside of me that kept me going and doing a million things at one time because I knew it had to be done. Now that you’re gone it’s sometimes harder for me to preform these selfless acts of love because it’s seemingly unappreciated or unwanted. Nevertheless, when push comes to shove I’ve managed to get everything I could have ever wanted accomplished. In August, I unexpectedly met the man of my dreams. He’s everything you would have wanted for me. He’s charming and kind. Smart and stable. And more importantly he’s fun and makes me better. You never officially met him and never will, but I have to believe you’ve known him all along. Every time my heart was broken by some jerk you would tell me that I just haven’t found the one. You knew I’d find someone wonderful and that he was actually out there no matter how many times I lost hope. Every description you’d ever given me about Mr. Right was foreshadowing to when I met Matt. Dad, Michael and I went to see the Neptune Festival fireworks this year at the Oceanfront. I brought Matt along because by October he was already a part of the family. We were sitting on the beach when all of a sudden the first firework lit up the sky. I turned to Matt smiling like a kid in a candy store and he said “do you hear that”? I turned to the boardwalk and heard an all too familiar sound, “Good Riddance” by Green Day. Matt recognized the song immediately from stories I’d told about you and that song being your ringtone. At that moment I knew that you were at peace and approved of Matt. I don’t remember hearing any other songs play after that – I just remember the boom and bang of the fireworks across the ocean. Moments like these aren’t coincidental. I think they represent the promise you made to always be here and to always be an active part of our lives. As painful as it will be one day to walk down an aisle, say I do and start a family – I know you’ll be there…just not in the way I had always dreamed.

When I think back to making your list of “nevers”, I think about my own list. If you had never passed away, I wouldn’t have had to grow up so quickly. While I could totally deal with that – it’s nice to be independent and do things for myself. I never would have had an internship at Apricot Lane last summer. Due to being completely absorbed with your illness school had taken the back burner and I was never able to apply for internships. The dean of my department at ODU sent me an email and said “this is your last chance, apply now”. It was at this internship that I met a girl who would give me a tip about Dollar Tree’s CORE Merchandising program. I never would be working for Dollar Tree Corporate in July, if it weren’t for this internship and your diagnosis. It’s amazing how things come full cycle. I still remember the day before you seized, telling me on the dock at Smith Mountain Lake that everything happens for a reason. Things work out in the end if you allow them to. I maintain that positive things do come from tragedies…you just have to change your focus and choose to dwell in positivity instead of negativity and despair. I never would have had my charity fashion show that was amazingly success for the American Cancer Society and my sanity, if it weren’t for you. It was a brilliant coping mechanism that brought so many unrelated people to Hampton Roads to celebrate your life and change the face of Cancer from something unknown to the reality that Cancer affects us all. Through this show I developed a #Cancerstrong mentality and awareness. Honestly, I think that’s the best thing I’ve done with my life and I’m so proud to have done it in your honor.

I graduate in May and will start working my first big girl job in July. I’m really not sure how I’ve managed to be successful in my academics and jobs through all the heart ache and tragedy we’ve endured this year. I don’t know what will become of me – I don’t know if I’ll stay with Dollar Tree for 30 years - I don’t know if I’ll get married or have 3 kids and live in Virginia Beach. But if there’s anything being #Cancerstrong has taught me, it’s being thankful for the unknown and embracing every day like it’s your last. You were so many wonderful things to so many different people but all of those things worked to change and enhance their lives in positive ways. You never took a day for granted and embraced everyone and everything with open arms. Every day I learn more about the amazing legacy you left behind for me to follow and I learn more about the legacy I’m establishing for myself. I don’t know who exactly this blog has reached or what my social media has done to their minds or hearts, but I know it’s had over 15,000 views. Cancer and death isn’t something to be silent about. It’s okay to be upset. It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to feel alone. But it’s even better to talk about it and fight the fight boldly in front of the community. It’s my mission to share the good that you started and I won’t stop until it’s my turn to go.

I love you big,

Katie  

I promise.

Growing up, we're taught about promises. We learn about promises from stories, our families and friends. As a child you're promised a reward if you're well behaved. As a teenager you make promises with you girlfriends not to tell Johnny that Susie actually likes him a lot. Unless of course, Johnny liked Susie and then you were a bad friend for not breaking that promise. In adult life you start to do something crazy...you start making promises to yourself. You promise yourself that you'll never gain 489365896 pounds or that you'll stop giving your heart to the 'bad boy' and look for someone decent you might marry. We all make promises without considering what these phrases and words really mean to someone else or even ourselves. I never understood the power of a promise until March 11, 2014 when I was hanging over my mom's bedside begging her not to leave me. For whatever reason, I resorted to making all of these promises to her while she opened and closed her eyes slowly fading away.

I made all kinds of promises. I promised I'd finish school. I promised I'd take care of my dad and my siblings. I promised I'd be kinder and give people a chance. I promised I wouldn't give up on love or God. I'm sure I promised many more things in the heat of the moment, but these are the ones I remember saying aloud. She didn't make any comments during my whole "I promise" speech. I thought that maybe if I made her promises, it'd be easier for her to let go and pass on. I thought that maybe if I promised I'd do things, she wouldn't be so scared to leave because I promised I'd carry on. After making all of these seemingly empty promises I just kept saying "I love you" over and over and over again until I was almost yelling at her in the hospital bed. I remember holding her hand and watching her mouth the words "I love you" back at me. It wasn't really until tonight, almost a year later, that I recognized the phrase "I love you" as a promise too. We're taught about love being something very special that illuminates your face and warms your heart. We must use that phrase wisely and tell others often if that's really how we feel about them. We are able to love and make that promise because God has promised to love us.

When I think about my mom and her 9 month battle with cancer, I can't help but think of all the life she had left to live. I can't help but think about all the things we never got to do together or experience in this life. She'll miss my college graduation, my wedding day and one day her grandchildren being born. She physically won't be present for these momentous events, but her promises of love will definitely be there. You see, my mother adored us. All of us. All 6 of us because everyone knows she loved our dog more than any person should love a pet on this planet. I am able and willing to love others because she raised me to be that way. My heart aches often because there's a permanent hole that her presence in my life once filled. But her love surrounds us in ways I'm unable to explain every moment of every day. She insisted that we are all to live a life expressing love and appreciation for others because it's what God has called us to do.

The devotion for today is from Ecclesiastes 5:4-7 and talks about keeping your promises to God. We are able to make any kind of promise we want, but we are required to follow through. Follow through is difficult for many people - or maybe just those of us in our self absorbed twenties. Either way, we should continue to promise and live out the commandments of our Lord. As a child of God and an Ambassador for Christ it's my mission to make sure that every day is Valentine's Day to someone. My boyfriend is deployed and talking to him is near impossible sometimes so I've learned to make the most of every second. I've learned it's not really about the quantity of what you say, but more about quality. Every chance I get I tell him how proud I am, how thankful I am and how much I adore him being a part of my life. I don't think the frequency of which I use the phrase "I love you" makes it any less meaningful. People enjoy being told how you make them feel. I don't think my mom was annoyed when I told her probably thirty times a day how much I loved her. I find myself using the phrase I love you in every day conversations to friends and family. Why should I hoard God's promise for myself? I was designed to share it with the world and so were you.  

Dear God,
Help us to live boldly. Help us to love others - even when we don't want to sometimes. Teach us to make promises to one another that we can keep. Encourage us to keep our promises to you. I love you. Amen.

#newyear #sameme

The new year brings new hope, aspirations and beginnings for everyone. It’s a chance to test a new mindset or string of attitudes. It’s a chance to try a new hobby or travel destination. I don’t know a sole that goes into the new year wanting everything to remain the same. Everyone is always looking to advance, upgrade or improve whether it’s their physical fitness, their electronics or personal finances – everyone is searching for change. This new year has been much needed for my family and I. I wasn’t necessarily looking for change because I’ve received enough of that this year, but for a new beginning – a chance to put the junk of 2014 behind me. There was much heartbreak, drama and tragedy. 2015 will be better by default, but I can do everything in my power to ensure that it’s the best year yet. I’m sure you’ve all seen the hashtag and phrase “new year, new me”. It’s never too late to make a change and become better than you’ve been. I don’t know why we wait for January 1 of any year to make that change, but I’m thankful for the opportunity January 1 provides for my friends, family and community. This year I’d like to continue the positive changes I’ve made in my life changing this motto to “new year, same me”. I plan to search for new hopes, new goals, new hobbies and new insights in the same skin I’ve finally grown used to. I understand that snakes shed their old skin to make room for the new every 3-4 months. It’s taken me 23 years to grow into the skin I’ve got and there’s still room to grow a little more; I’ve learned that I’m awkward, kind, ditsy and motivated. I’ve learned that I can truly accomplish anything I put my mind to and that I’m a force to be reckoned with in a presentation room. The greatest lesson I’ve learned is that I am loved by many as a child of God in this skin that’s been mine for 23 years – that’s reason right there for my explanation of “new year, same me”.  

I’m 23 and at that awkward stage in life where everyone is posting engagement rings and career moves on social media. I can’t help but compare my life to theirs because they’re my peers and it feels weird to not be joining them in these momentous stages of life. I don’t know what it is about being a 20 something but you feel as if everything revolves around you at all times. There’s something about being obsessed with your friends and everything that happens in their lives – then equating that to what’s happening in yours. Since August 11, 2013 I’ve been obsessed with my friends’ lives and how mine doesn’t even begin to compare. At first it was very upsetting to me and now I think a little differently – it’s okay to be different and experience different stages of life without modeling your actions or feelings on what someone else has done. It’s okay to forge your own path and make your own mistakes. Are you ever really living if you base your decisions on what works best for other people?

I’ve started running to clear my head and calm all of life’s anxiety that I just can’t shake off. I started using an elliptical because it was easier on my joints. I always switched the screen to a race track setting so that I could measure how far I was running. I would run 2 miles every day regardless of whether the screen was visible or not; but something about watching myself digitally cross the 2 mile finish line made the screen worthwhile. It’s easy to feel good about the decisions you’re making when you see the outcome in-front of you. I had coffee today with a dear friend and engaged many conversations about previous “mistakes” and “misfortunes” that happened throughout our lives. For the first time I could finally see that these “mistakes” I’ve thought of for so many years were actually blessings and lessons learned in their own way. I wouldn’t be the person I am without all of these misfortunes. I wouldn’t understand the joy of being loved and loving others if my heart hadn’t been broken so many times. I wouldn’t understand the commitment and challenges it takes to maintain a family if my mother hadn’t passed away early. I wouldn’t be the devoted Christian I am, if my faith hadn’t been tested so many times. Each person is different and cannot be compared to another – my life decisions are my own and impact the course of my life; it’s not my job to stalk social media to see whether I match up with my friends or peers. God’s will determines my fate and that’s more comforting than I ever thought. God challenges us through forces we can and cannot see – he doesn’t provide cancer or seek misfortune on anyone. He gives us the tools to cope and rise above illness and despair. This year I’ve made decisions to follow my dreams through leaps of faith and supportive friends and family with God’s hand guiding me on paths that at times are pretty lonely and scary. Knowing my mother, she’s probably back-seat driving and annoying the mess out of God in his attempts to guide me down different paths. Her presence remains strong and impactful in my everyday life even though she has passed on; some things I just can’t explain because I know she had a hand in them.

The passage from my Stocking Stuffer devotional is from John 10:14-15; it reads, “I am the good shepherd; I know my own sheep, and they know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. So I sacrifice my life for the sheep”. I liked this passage because it’s humbling to think of yourself as a sheep, wandering around feeding on grass, seed or whatever it is that sheep eat avoiding wolves and carnivorous animals. I find it comforting that even though we are sheep, God knows everything about us that makes us different and unique because He is our shepherd – our caretaker and confidant. He doesn’t compare us to our peers or judge us for our previous decisions or misfortunes. Frankly, I don’t think He cares about any of those things; He’s more concerned with loving us and keeping us as His own, guiding us on our own individualized paths through life. He teaches us through our decisions and life circumstances to love one another and find hope in each new day and year. And once we find it, He encourages us to share the Good News with the world. This new year, I encourage you to become your best self – learning from misfortunes, giving hope to those that need it most and continuing the good you started in 2014. May 2015 be the best year yet.