So much time has come and gone since my little Ladybug was last with me. Sometimes I think to myself she must have just been a dream, a wild and wonderful dream. Like something that is just out of my reach, that I cannot touch no matter how I try. And I DO try. Then there are other times, like today when I was talking about her and the rides we used to take up to Seattle Children's Hospital and the memories are so real that my heart breaks. I miss her. I know it goes without saying and yet I am compelled to say it - I miss my daughter. I miss all that she was and all that she could have been. In another world Rhema would be 18 years old and getting ready to graduate from North Thurston High School. In another world she would be preparing for Prom, for her future in culinary school, who knows, she may have had a boyfriend. But I don't live in other worlds, I live in THIS world. And this world, though full of joy, love, success, is so full of heartache. Which is why, I suppose, that I don't often think of those things, but at times it is difficult NOT to think of those things. I am bracing myself for the pictures of things that will never be for us. So, I find myself here tonight, updating a journal that long ago was often updated.
We've moved on, as people inevitably tend to do. We've moved on in some really amazing and wonderful ways. We've moved on in ways I never could have imagined. And yet, my heart remains very much "back there". Back in that time and space that held the physical presence of my daughter. I miss her, did I say that yet?

Let me update you a little and then drop some thoughts on you. My oldest daughter moved to Arizona, Olympia was holding her back in many ways. So, with nothing but $49 in her pocket and the hope of a new life she moved somewhere she didn't know anyone at all but is was warm. And now she is doing very well, living on her own, promoted to management at her job, enjoying new friends and freedom like never before. I am proud of her. My one and only son has realized his dream of becoming an Executive Producer. He has a movie that will be "coming to a theater near you" this fall. It is called Bloodsucking Bastards and it is a spoof of vampire movies. It was the premiere opening film of the Slamdance Film Festival in Park City Utah back in January. You can check out the trailer if you want: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RuiAJvPXpFs  the film is getting really GREAT reviews, so we are hoping for it to do well. He is also working on a TV series that will begin casting in about 2 weeks. It has some good buzz around it and has a fabulous writer from Comedy Central. Can't say much more than that right now, but we are hoping to see it get picked up soon. My other daughter Kirsey, as you know, had a baby and he is growing like a weed. Kydan is absolutely the most beautiful baby boy I have seen since my own son was a baby. He is the BEST little hugger EVER. He is 18 months old and watching his personality develop is a joy. I wish I had more time with him, this is my biggest wish. His Auntie Rhema would have absolutely adored him. My granddaughter Kallie will be 6 years old this September, hard to believe. She is the same precious, amazing, adorable little girl that she always was and has the heart of a warrior. She is a girl after grandma's own heart! As for me, I am attending the University of Washington Tacoma's getting my Bachelors of Social Work. My plan for my next step is to attend UW Seattle's MSW program. I am actually aiming to get into the Advanced Standing MSW which will cut my time in the program considerably. It is quite a competitive program, but I'm taking my shot at it anyhow. My goal is to work with cancer kids and their families, preferably in the palliative care setting at Seattle Children's Hospital. This is my one driving goal. Everything I do is geared towards that future. All the experiences we had make me want to reach out and help other families in the same situation we were in. I will make it, I already know. I've got a ladybug on my side, after all. And, the most wonderous thing to me - I am madly in love. He is the most caring, loving, gentle, kind, generous, available, giving man I have ever had the pure pleasure to know. I always tell him that he is so very easy to love. Surely he is a gift from the world for all of the harsh and horrible things that have befallen my life. As I was moving through life, trying to find my way in the world, barely 9 months after Rhema died I looked up and there I found joy. And joy has abided side by side with pain ever since. 
I have a bevy of new friends, dear friends, friends who have only come to know me "post childhood cancer". I cannot help but know that the person they see now is radically different than the one who began that journey back on January 23, 2009. I do not know how to BEGIN to tell them all of the pain, struggles, heartaches, joys, beauty, and love that developed into the woman they know today. How could I ever explain how my daughter was my champion, my hero, the greatest love of my life? How can they know the wild life we lived? or the kindness, generosity and blessings bestowed upon me in times of trouble by friends and strangers alike? How could they know that we lived a thousand lifetimes in 2 1/2 short years?
I miss my daughter, it is an ache that has settled into my bones and it dwells with me. I hate that her pictures grow older, but she never does. I long to know - what would she look like? How would her teenage years have treated her? What direction would she be headed now? I long to know answers that will never come. I will never have satisfaction, in desperation I search for reconciliation of these thoughts. How can I define this experience in my mind in such a way that, even though it still hurts, it settles my heart? I think back to when we were told that Rhema had relapsed and that very few options were left with ever increasing unlikelihood that she would survive. I found that by embracing the unimaginable thought of death, I was able to live fully in the moment with my daughter. I found that I saw life in different terms and hope became something new. Yes, I always hoped for her to be able to get through enough and hang on long enough until a cure could be found! But I was also able to have understanding that every breath was fragile and bold - every breath WAS living! Every moment held possibility for joy. By embracing the knowledge that her options were very limited I embraced independence for her, I embraced letting go of expectations and holding onto each moment. I will never regret embracing and facing head on the fact that my daughter would probably not survive her cancer. It gave us the freedom to live wild and free for the short time she actually had left with us. It was terrifying to contemplate a world without my daughter, but I came to understand that by grasping the knowledge that she may not last I was able to drink up every possible moment I had with her. In the end, this thought sustains me: we lived and we lived like there was no tomorrow because, truly tomorrow is only an illusion.
Peace and blessings my friends!
Kirsten