It’s been two months since we’ve said our ‘farewell’ to Krista. She was always worried about how her cancer affected the family. She often said “this cancer doesn’t just affect me.” These posts reflect the thoughts from each of us during our grieving process. Although it was extremely difficult to write, this is what Krista wanted her blog to be about – raw. From the posts, you’ll see that the reflections are very different. We believe this is the way Krista would have wanted it, in hopes that it could help other families affected by cancer and losing a loved one.
Please take the time to read each one and appreciate how it affects each family member.
We continue to heal together as a family. We would be extremely grateful if you would continue to share Krista’s blog, in hopes of helping others.
Dad
It hurts. Like a hard punch to the gut….and you have a hard time catching your breath.
I can still see you the day you were born, and took your first breath. I held you tight and promised to take care of you till the day I died. That was my job as a Father.
Damn….I remember all the good times, and some not to good, but, we all grew as tight knit family. Not perfect, but, there for each other through thick and thin.
Thank you for letting me tag along with you to England, Africa, Gibraltor, Spain, and Italy in 2011 and then asking me again to go to Israel in 2016. Those father/daughter trips meant a lot to me and I will cherish the time we spent together. I’m chuckling right now because I probably drove you crazy both those trips. But, I am so happy that I did go.
Your news about having breast cancer hit me hard. I really did not know how to respond. I was scared, not for me, but, for you. What did you do….you looked it straight in the face and started to fight back. I was so proud of how you handled this diagnosis. Your determination was awe inspiring. You gathered strength as your knowledge grew on fighting this disease. That strength flowed back to us, your family. Thank You for never giving up, staying positive, living life, and being happy. I truly believe your were teaching us how to handle life after.
I miss those morning coffees and conversations…..I miss helping you fix up your yard and odd jobs around the house. I miss looking out the sunroom windows and seeing those blinds raised in your windows. I also miss those “eye-rolls” and “ oh god, dad” when I said or did something stupid.
You are my Hero……..I will never, ever be able to match what you accomplished in 34 years. I will see to it that your legacy will live on through your blog.
I love you Krista. Someday we will meet again and I hope to go on another Father/Daughter trip.
I was there that last day when you took your final breath. My promise was broken.
It hurts. Like a hard punch to the gut….and you have a hard time catching your breath.
Love, Dad
Mom
I think all mothers can relate as to how we feel when our child is sick, well times that by 1000 especially, when they are given a cancer diagnosis……… AGAIN! How can this be happening, why has she been dealt this diagnosis a second time! It’s not fair.
My background of being a nurse and experience working in this area, I know there is no answer as to “why”. Most of the time, there is no rhyme or reason as to why someone has cancer and others don’t, but this our daughter and damn it, I want to know why!!!!
The biggest struggle for me was between being a mom and being the nurse. I often had to remind myself that Krista was an adult, not a child like the last time we went through this. She took charge of her diagnosis, educated herself, asked the right questions and made informed decisions. In the end, some days I was full on mom, listening, giving hugs, wiping tears and other days, she drew on my knowledge and expertise in this area, which resulted in difficult conversations and decisions.
Besides being a mom to Krista, we have 2 other daughters that were suffering as well. A cancer diagnosis affects everyone in family. I had to make sure they were okay, provide support to them and because of my medical knowledge, explain what was happening or going on at any given time and why. This was the same for my husband Bill. This was his “baby girl”(they all are) and because she lived next door to us, there relationship became closer, often working on things while I was at work. Bill and I leaned on each other for love, strength and support. He is my rock, and always will be.
When Krista shared her idea of starting a blog, I have to admit I was a little apprehensive, sharing all her private information with everyone, and the affect it would have on the rest of the family. I am so glad she did, what a beautiful gift she gave others, helping them and helping herself cope with this horrible disease. In the end, it helped us understand how she was living with cancer.
With each day, came constant worry for me. The disease, the treatments, the side effects, the financial needs, being unable to work, and her passion to travel to just to escape it all (having an emergency plan while away). Most of all, I worried about what her worries were, what she was thinking about, often alone with her own thoughts as she really didn’t have a significant other. Did she cry herself to sleep some nights? Was she scared? Did she feel worse then what she wanted you to believe? Moms know, and the answers to those questions is yes, and it kills me that I couldn’t do anything to “fix” this horrible disease.
Sometimes being a nurse sucked! I know too much about cancer. Every day I pushed any negative thoughts and possible future picture to the back of my mind. I didn’t want to think about it, I wanted to think about each day as it came, look for the positive and be grateful for the time with Krista (and the rest of family) Krista was at our house every day, I believe it was her safe haven, a place she felt comfortable, at peace, as there was always someone around her and I am forever grateful for the closeness of our relationship.
The most heart wrenching part of Krista’s journey was watching her slip away each day and not been able to stop it. Understanding what is happening and what is coming. How do you prepare for that? Trying to keep it together, when she asks “Does it hurt to die, mom?” or tells you, Mom, I am scared and I don’t want to die, I am not ready yet” It’s not fair, damn it, I should be the one going first, not my child!
There are so many things I grieve for Krista. I will never see her become engaged and see her so happy in love on her wedding day. I grieve that she will never experience pregnancy; never experience a mother’s love for her child, and her child never calling me Grandma.
What will I miss, her beautiful smile, her coming through the back door every day or seeing her sitting on her porch with Roara, her determination when told she would never/couldn’t do it, her passion for travel, my shopping partner, her honest opinion on things (even though I may not like it), crazy ass driving, her “bossy” attitude, Christmas mimosas, most of all “love you mom”.
It is so hard to accept that Krista is gone. I miss her so much it hurts. The ache in my heart will never go away. The time we had with her will never be enough! Not ever! I am so proud that she was my daughter! How she chose to live with cancer, continuing to focus on positivity, helping others when she could and still determined to travel are lessons I learned from her. She was determined to not let cancer define her! She was amazing! I take some solace in that she is with those that have gone before her. I choose to focus on the amazing life she lived, and the beautiful memories I have of her.
I can’t wait to see you again……. I love you babe
Mom
“I may not see you, but I can feel you”
Brittany, sister
When Krista told us the news that she had Breast Cancer, I was in shock. I think I said “what?!” about 50 times, in hopes I was hearing it wrong.
After the shock settled and I was listening to what she was saying, sadness came over me and I began to cry. Then came the anger and the “why her?” “why again?” questions. I felt confused through most of her journey, because she looked fine, she sounded okay, I kept thinking maybe she was going to be okay. I told myself I shouldn’t worry, that she beat this once and she will beat it again. There is no way I will loose her, she will beat this and everything will be fine.
I went with Krista to get her hair chopped off, before she started chemo, and it was there I saw her cry for the first time after her diagnosis. I just cried with her. She looked good with her new hair cut, of course, I would tease her saying “OMG YOU LOOK LIKE MOM!!”
When Krista had Cancer the first time, at 16, I felt like I wasn’t there a lot. I didn’t understand what was going on, I was young and I wanted to be with my friends. I did spend one night with her in the hospital, but I was her ‘annoying little sister’ and we didn’t always see eye to eye.
I have a lot, and I mean a lot, of regrets. Things I wish I never said, things I would have done differently, I struggle with these every day. The guilt kills me. Krista was always strong, she tried not to show her weakness in front of anyone, other than mom and dad.
1st regret: Not going to her first chemo. I had to work that day and I received a video from my other sister. Seeing my mom, dad and little sister there, it killed me that I wasn’t there. I couldn’t be there to hold her hand and tell her “you got this, you’re going to be okay!!” I didn’t and I wasn’t. Yes, I sent her text messages, but it wasn’t the same.
As the days went by, I tried to be there more for her. Going to appointments when I could. Calling her every night and stopping by when I could.
2nd regret: When Krista was diagnosed, I was going through a lot in my life, both emotionally and health wise. I had surgery in August that left a big scar. When I talked about it, Krista would always have to ‘one up me.’ She’d say, “well I am going to have no breast” or “I have THIS scar from side to side.”
I was very mad at her, but I get it, she was going through cancer. Eventually, my sadness for her turned into anger toward her, and I became annoyed. I felt like I was never allowed to have any issues of my own because she had cancer and that’s way worse than anything I could ever be going through.
This feeling got worse.
She was always the center of attention. I struggled with this a lot.
I was mad at my self to even feel this way.
I was hurt from not having my mom and dad to talk to, or so I felt, because I didn’t want to add more stress to them. Krista was always around so I couldn’t have the one on one time with my parents that I desperately wanted.
So, I distanced myself.
3rd Regret: I started to get more and more annoyed with her traveling. Everyone would ask me how she was feeling and how she was doing.
I would think back and say to myself ... “why is everyone making such a big deal of this? She is fine, look at her! She is travelling, she is shopping; SHE IS FINE.”
I started not texting her much. I would see her at my parents house every now and then.I was angry at her and I felt ashamed and I couldn’t face her.
At the end: December 11th I will never, never forget this day.
Finally, she allowed Katelyn and my mom to take her to the hospital. I was at home when Katelyn called to say she was in emerge, so I went up there and met them. It seemed like forever while waiting for the doctor. Finally, he ordered the scans, and that’s when Katelyn and I decided to go home and let dad come up to be with her and mom while they waited.12:00AM, I was fast asleep at home. Katelyn started pounding on my front door. I opened it and she said “Get dressed, we have to go, the cancer spread. Brittany, it’s bad, it’s everywhere. It’s in her brain. We have to go.”
I was in shock. I couldn’t speak. I was scared, so scared.
Driving to the hospital, my mind was racing, I kept thinking to myself ‘I wish I didn’t to this, I should of done that...’
Instantly, all the anger towards her went away and the guilt set in.
Why didn’t I try more with her? Why didn’t I just be the bigger person?
The next couple days, I spent time with her in the hospital. I apologized over and over again, for everything I was feeling. I tried to help and encourage her to keep going, and told her that it would be okay, that she will be okay. During our visits, I would cry to her, asking if ‘we’ were okay. I told her I was sorry for everything, and that I loved her so much.
Being the great big sister she was, she reassured me that everything was okay between us and that she loved me too, telling me not to worry.
“We are good Brittany.”
Then she was gone.
Even though Krista and I didn’t always see eye to eye, she loved me, and I loved her. She was my first best friend. We looked out for each other, and we had each other’s back, no matter what.
Krista: I am sorry for everything.
I am sorry I wasn’t there more.
I am sorry I was mad at you.
I am sorry that in your final days, I made it about me, needing you to tell me that I would be okay, when really, it should have been me telling you that you were going to be okay. It should have been me comforting you in your time of need.
But you took care of me, like the big sister you are.
I am sorry and I love you so, so much. I miss you everyday, I think of you all the time and I am just so sorry.
Till we meet again.
Love, Brittany
Katelyn, sister
She's fading away. She's fading faster than I am ready for. Pictures are coming off her wall, her things are being divided, sold or donated, her house is becoming empty. Her car is no longer parked in the driveway. Next, her house will become some else’s home. I keep searching for the scent of her perfume on the coat that I kept of hers - but it's gone. She is gone.
It's like a homesick feeling I get, except, I know I'll never get to "go home" again. I'm trapped, with out her. There's nothing that will make her come back.
She was supposed to be here. She was supposed to watch my kids grow up, and help me navigate through life as I try to raise them. I wanted her to influence the way my children will be raised.
I regret so much. Why is it that when someone passes away, this is the only time you realize how much you would have done things differently? I wish I didn't get so annoyed when she'd whip out her phone to take a thousand pictures, because now, I feel like I don't have enough with her. I wish I had more meaningful and deep conversations with her, because now, more then ever, I want her advice. I wish I showed her how much I appreciated her. This past December we were shopping together, she came across a red door decoration - one that resembled our front door growing up - there was only 2 left. I told her and Brittany to buy them, and that I would borrow it one day. Within that same week, little did I know, Krista searched everywhere for it, and finally found it in a store across the border, about half an hour away. She drove over and got it. For me. Because this is what she did. She dropped it off to me that night, as a surprise - of course I was surprised, and I said 'thank you'.......but, why didn't I hug her?! Why didn't I tell her how much I appreciated that?! Why didn't I share in her excitement?! I let her surprise down. I feel like I let her down, looking back.
I wish I could have done more for her. What in the hell did she do to deserve all the life obstacles she had to go through?
What haunts me, more then her not being here anymore, is the thought of the fear she faced alone. She faced the worst thing anyone could face - she looked death square in the eye - and it never gave her a break. This stupid disease was relentless, knocking her down, peg after peg. While the rest of us slept, she lay there knowing deep down the chemo drugs weren't working - the cancer was winning, and that someday, it would take her life.
That destroys me.
How can a person accept something like that, and face it with poise and composure like she did? How can a person tell themselves they won't give up - only already knowing one day the disease will defeat you? I don't know how she did it, I truly don't - but I never once didn't believe in her. Not once.
Of course, Krista being who she was, she hardly let us see the fear she had. I promised her from the beginning of her diagnosis, that I would always see her as my 'big sister' - I would never see cancer staring back at me when I looked at her. Lately though, I feel like I've broken that promise. I've been trying so hard to remember every single happy time with her - before all this cancer bullshit - just to bury the bad times. My mind won't let it happen very easy - and I hate myself for that. It won't let me forget the look of actual defeat in her eyes the night we took her to emerge - she didn't want to be there - she even said she didn't want to go, because she knew it wouldn't be easy to get back home. She wore her black winter coat, her hair was a little messy from laying on the couch, she had no make up on and she wore a hospital mask on her face. Her eyes met mine as she was in triage. She was so tired. She was so defeated. It was one of those looks that stays with you forever. I wanted to take her out of there - I wanted to just shake the cancer out of her, and let her go back to being HER. She didn't want anymore bad news - none of us did.
Since that night in emerge, finding out that the cancer had spread, I've had a grey filter over my world. Everything seems to be lacking something. I feel lost, alone and mostly angry.
I know I have to continue my life, if even just for the sake of my kids. I try everyday to keep things normal for them - it's just so damn hard. I'm jealous of Levi & Arlynn, to be able to continue to be so carefree and happy - but at the same time, I'm glad they are young enough to not have to live with a broken heart. They do talk about Aunt Krista a lot. I know they miss her. Levi, our 6 year old has had a harder time coping. We are trying our best, all together. Both of our kids don't fully comprehend the idea of heaven, but they try. They've asked if we can go visit, they've asked what heaven is like or what Aunt Krista looks like as an angel. I'm not sure how to answer them.
It's heartwarming, yet so difficult to hear your kids say they "can't WAIT to go to heaven to see Aunt Krista!" How is a parent supposed to share their excitement about that?
I will admit, my jealously can turn into anger at the drop of a hat - when they carelessly throw a toy or something that was a gift from Aunt Krista. I have this paralyzing fear of my kids growing out of the clothes she bought them, or throwing away a dollar store Santa that no longer grows in water, because it was a gift from her. I'm guarding every solitary thing she ever gave us, and go into complete panic mode when one thing goes missing temporarily amongst the chaos of living with kids.
I am also scared. I'm scared that my kids won't remember Aunt Krista for who she was - only the countless stories about her that we try to imprint in their minds. I'm scared they won't feel her love or her presence when I try to tell them how much she loved them.
I'm scared for myself - that I won't remember every memory that I should. Our inside jokes and secrets all just disappear. The stories that will never be laughed at as much as they deserve to be - because 'you had to be there.'
There’s one more thing I am struggling with, and that’s the fear of loosing MY children. I know, it probably sounds silly, but let me explain. I struggle to see the pain my parents are going through, to try and accept loosing one of their daughters. I cannot even begin to imagine the thought of loosing one of my children. I feel pure joy when I hold my one month old daughter in my arms, realizing how much she relies on JUST being comforted by me or Brad, let alone everything she relies on us for. That goes for my other two children as well. I can’t imagine not being able to give them comfort or being able to take away any hurt. I’ve become paranoid. Paranoid to leave them, in fear one day, I may loose them, just like my parents have.
I've heard that time helps with grief. It's hard to believe now, but I hope that to be true. I'm trying to ignore how much it hurts, but I still feel the pain when I think of her being gone. In one way, I'm thankful when my mind stays busy and allows me to forget everything that my family and I have been through, and will continue to go through, but on the flip side, as soon as I snap back to reality, I feel a sense of panic, anger and overwhelming sadness. Every morning I wake up and for a split second, everything is 'normal' - like she never left...I wish I could stay in that moment, everyday, all day.
For her, I will try to be brave. I will try to be fearless. Even on my weakest days, I will tell myself that my family and I will be “fine” - because I know that's what she would say.
Love you always, Katelyn
"It's perfectly okay to admit you're not okay"
