The Chair

This is the chair that I would sit in, holding Karissa, after a rough morning of seizures. I remember just holding her and stroking her sweet little face and hair. That is all she wanted after having a terrible morning of seizures.

This is the chair I would sit in to read "Goodnight Moon" to Karissa and sing her sweet lullabies. The place where I would hold her and do 'tickle arms.' The place where I would sit and work on different tasks with Karissa.

Or the place I would sit when I would visit with one of Karissa's Early Start Teachers. Instead of having our planned home visit, due to a rough morning of seizures, Karissa's teacher would bring over Starbucks and we would sit and talk while I just held Karissa.

This is the same chair that I sat in 18 months ago, on July 8th, 2008, and the weeks following, surrounded by family and friends, mourning our tragic loss. The same place we sat when we were planning Karissa's memorial.

I have had countless talks with different friends, while sitting in that chair...talking about all the good memories, crying, laughing and, if I am being completely honest, cursing God for taking my little girl away.

Now I sit in that chair and watch the world pass me by, even though it feels like time has just stopped. But time hasn't stopped...18 months have passed. It is the place where I think and pray, read and cry and I dream about the future.

Ghost

There are days, like today, where I can sense her all around me. I swear, it feels like she is with me. I can smell her sweet smell and her the pitter-patter of her feet on our hardwood floors. I can hear her in her room, playing with her toys. She is following me all around the house as I do the laundry and other miscellaneous chores. It feels like she is right next to me. Right there. But she isn't. It is not a feeling I get all the time, just everyone now and then. It is rather strange, I know. Maybe it is just another way people grieve the loss of a loved one. Or just another way I cope with my horrible loss and try to get through another day without my Karissa.

Optimism out the window

At the strike of midnight 2 years ago, I remember sitting in our house and telling Mark "I have a feeling that 2008 is going to be a great year!" Wrong! I remember feeling very hopeful about having started Karissa on the ketogenic diet. I was hopeful to see where the diet would take us and the possibility that it could improve her learning. I was excited that maybe she would start to progress and develop. Maybe her speech and language would accelerate. Maybe she would start progressing in her fine and gross motor skills. I was hopeful for my little girl and for Mark and I to possibly get to experience just glimpse of what having a 'normal' child is like.

As you know, 2008 was the darkest year of my life. My worst fear came true. I always feared that Karissa would die of a seizure. I have never said this before, but I knew deep down in my gut that Karissa wouldn't live a long life. I hate saying it and I can't exactly remember when I felt it but I just knew. I just put in the back of my mind, hoping that I was wrong. But, my gut has ALWAYS been right.

For me, this past year hasn't been that great either. Mark disagrees with me and of course, 2009 pales in comparison to 2008. We have had our share of up's and down's and challenges this past year. I am afraid to be hopeful for the new year. Sad but true. When you get knocked down so many times, it is hard to keep getting back up and pushing forward and maintain a positive outlook on life. Anyways, that's all.

Only memories...

are all that is left of you.

Memories

One of the memories of Karissa's last Christmas was going to downtown Riverside to "The Festival of Lights" to hear Mark's band play. All the lights, especially at the Mission Inn, were amazing! It was so cold and both Karissa and I were bundled up. Karissa always loved music and I remember dancing with her while Mark played that evening.

Anyways, tonight Mark is a playing, but I, of course, could not bring myself to go. I am doing my best to get through Christmas without Karissa but this, I could not do. It is painful to see people with their kids at Christmas and think, "ya, that used to be us." It is horrible and only those who have lost a child can understand. I HATE being the CHILDLESS couple...I loathe it actually. Especially during the holidays.

Anyways, these are some pictures that were taken at "The Festival of Lights" in 2007.

Like a quickly moving horror film

Sirens.
People.
Screaming.
Daddy.
Questions.
Anger.
Silence.
Prayers.
Death.
Coroner.
Screaming.
Police.
Telephone.
Karissa.
Lights.
Calls.
Reactions.
Numbness.
Angel.
Cold.
Wailing.
My.
Worst.
Fear.
Come.
True.
Mark.
Waiting.
Stop.
Prayers.
Kristy.
People.
Wailing.
Friends.
Pediatrician.
Response.
Perfect.
Karissa.
Eyelashes.
Skin.
Mom.
Firemen.
Body.
Bag.
Dream.
Gaylin.
Silence.
Sister.
Blue.
Seizures.
Suffering.
Lack.
Of.
Air.
Paramedic.
Despair.
Hope.
Breath.
The.
Cross.
Jesus.
Karissa.

Sometimes when I can't sleep at night, this is what runs through my mind.

I miss you