Kindness for Kellan

It's been one year since Kellan passed away, as his 'angelversary' was on Monday (12/19). I've been messaging with Lori (and have been attempting to meet up with her for a week now), and she told me that her family really wants everyone to be kind to people in his honor. Everyone seems to be asking Kellan's parents, 'How can we help?', and this is it! Acts of kindness towards others shouldn't be a forced thing, or something that we do just to hashtag and blast on social media for attention. But I do feel like spreading kindness, and the desire for Kellan's family to see the kindness, is important. So I'm posting about it in hopes that you'll want to do something in Kellan's honor, too. Big or little, cost or no cost, anything goes.



I was talking to Truman about ideas for acts of kindness, and he wanted to know if we have to do them for strangers or if we can do them for people we know. I said of course we can do nice things for friends and family, but stepping outside of our comfort zone and being kind to a stranger that might really need it is also an excellent option. We try to raise our kids to be thoughtful and kind no matter what time of year, no matter who is watching, so this is just a little more specific. Truman was all over it and wanted to write his teacher a complimentary letter first, then wanted to drop off cookies to friends. Done and done.

The first day, he held open the door for someone at a pizza place. Then that night, I made little cards from Pinterest, which talk about how to be a superhero with kindness. Kellan LOVED Superheroes, so that has become a symbol used often for many of these events. I can't look at a Hulk toy without thinking about Kellan and how he'd yell, 'Hulk SMASH!' when you'd ask him a question. Now Kellan is a true superhero, as his parents gave the ultimate gift of his several of his organs to those in need. I like to think that his magical power has to be 'giving life to others'. Superhero, indeed.

Anyway, I put a little blurb on the back of the card, to explain Kellan's story, and then we rounded up some candy and put it all in a bag. On our way to Lois and Tony's house that night, we hunted for a stranger that seemed to need a little kindness. It was literally 0 degrees outside and we saw a man standing at a bus stop, looking very, very cold. Cecelia noticed him first, and so Nate pulled up to the bus stop and I hopped out with the bag.





I asked him if he would like some candy, and he said, 'SURE'. When he reached for the bag I saw that he wasn't wearing gloves. I asked if he owned gloves and he said he did, but I got the feeling he was living under rough circumstances. I wanted to give him my gloves, but realized they are pink and fuzzy and probably way too small for this guy. So I trusted that the candy would be a good start for him and he thanked me, as we drove away. New idea: small goodie bags that include gloves and hand warmers, plus cash---that guy probably just needed a few bucks more than anything.

The next day I got a $10 gift card from Starbucks in the morning, and then after taking both Cecelia and Porter to the doctor (more on the wave of Strep throat hitting our family later), we went to Target. As we were finishing some shopping for Truman, I saw a mom in the train aisle with us, without any kids next to her. I am assuming she was a mom, as she was looking at the trains, but who knows? I whispered to Cecelia, 'Should we give her the card?' She nodded, and took it from me, hopping down from the cart and walking over to the lady.



I told the woman that Cecelia wanted to give her something, and explained that it's a gift card for her to use on herself. She looked completely overwhelmed but happy, and I told her that it's in honor of Cecelia's friend who passed away last year. The woman looked at me in the eyes, and she started tearing up, which made me tear up. Unspoken words of heartbreak passed between our eyes, and she thanked us as she walked away. I certainly hope she used that card for herself as a nice treat, and it was a really satisfying feeling to tell someone about Kellan and share the heartbreak/feeling of gratitude for this life. All of that in a few seconds of interacting with a stranger. Pretty heavy.



I have two more cards made up and want to do a few more things with the kids in the coming days. But I'm also trying to do really small things throughout the days, like making eye contact and smiling at strangers as we pass. Letting people go ahead of me in traffic. Striking up a conversation with a dad at Target (yep, there three times this week for last minute shopping, oops) about Shopkins, trying to help him decide what his daughter would like best. Donating some of the kids' old artwork to seniors who are receiving Meals on Wheels, and might need some colorful scribbles in their lives. Just kind things that take little to no effort but can make a difference in somebody's day.

During this insanely hectic season, it's easy to lose sight of the big picture. I know I'm guilty of this, although my heart is extra heavy this year when thinking about Kellan. So many people are stressed out and in a rush and seem so sad right now, and I think a small act of kindness could be exactly what they need. Obviously this is not a new concept but something worth mentioning for a specific purpose: remembering Kellan and honoring his family during this difficult time.

Details: they want the acts of kindness to run from Sunday 12/18 through Christmas. They'd love to see these acts on Facebook and specifically on Kellan's Facebook page. The two hashtags Lori's picked are #KindnessForKellan and #HonoringOurSuperheroKellan. Anything goes. Just be kind!

I also think that hugging your loved ones a little tighter and taking a minute to reflect on all of our blessings, even in the midst of stress, would be absolutely wonderful. I know that Kellan's parents would appreciate it, too.

Would have been

Today would have been Kellan's fourth birthday, just a week after Cecelia's.

I've been thinking about Brad and Becky all day today, knowing that I can't even wrap my mind around their pain in losing a son. A birthday that should have been full of superheroes and presents and a party and a tiny little body bombing around on his big day, is instead full of loss. The absence of Kellan, the void he's left here, the unimaginable loss of a child. It doesn't seem real, even five months later. I'm sure his first missing birthday is a tough milestone to pass for his family, I just can't even go there.

I told Cecelia that today was Kellan's birthday and she put on her inquisitive face. 'But God and Jesus don't know it's his birthday. I wonder what kind of presents he'll get in heaven? I hope he isn't getting wet in the rain.' We talked about how Kellan would have loved to have a superhero party and decided to sing him Happy Birthday. As soon as we were done singing, the wind started to blow Cecelia's hair and I was sort of speechless as I caught it on video. It gives me chills to watch it and the gorgeous rainbow that came after the storm tonight also seemed too perfect (although I didn't get that one on camera!). It might be a stretch to say those were signs from above that Kellan is still with us in spirit, but I choose to believe we'll meet him again someday.

Today was an ordinary day for us. A simple, mundane, ordinary day with our three healthy kids. Kite flying. Playing on the playground. Buying and planting flowers for our yard. Laughing together. Playing with the vintage Super Soakers Lois found in their basement. Eating dinner as a family. There is so much breathtaking beauty in the ordinary, and I thank God for the privilege of each passing day.

Still at a loss

It's been exactly one week since Kellan passed away. I'm not sure how it's only been seven days, and so many thoughts still swirl around in my brain as I process this loss of life. This hole in Christmas for us all, but especially for Kellan's family.

I struggle because it's really not my story to tell and I don't want to share things that Brad and Becky wouldn't want me to share. I did ask them both to read my last post to make sure they approved (they did), and I think for me personally I just want to focus on my own experience. I feel like I have to write it all out so that I can really move forward: a common thread throughout the many years of my blog.

Telling Truman and Cecelia that their friend is no longer here on earth was honestly one of the hardest, saddest occurrences for Nate and I as parents. We were both crying, which stunned the kids in itself. But they are just so innocent and their comments were a lot more difficult to handle than expected.

We scripted it with the following sentence, as recommended to us by my mom : Kellan was very sick. His body couldn't get better, so Kellan died. Truman's eyes got really big and worried and he said, 'He is really dead?  Kellan is in heaven?' We told him yes, he is in heaven now. Both of the kids asked 'why' a few times and we repeated the script. You aren't supposed to elaborate or go into some long explanation, but are supposed to keep it succinct and clear. Then Truman said, 'Now Kaydin doesn't have a brother anymore. I don't want Kaydin to die, too. Kellan is going to miss Christmas.' And then I sort of lost it as I watched my first born begin to cry. We told him it was okay to be sad, because we are sad, too. 

Then Truman wanted to write Kaydin a letter, which is such a healthy and typical way for Truman to process this news. He addressed it to Kaydin, Becky and Brad and wrote 'share with Lori' on there, too. He said, 'I hope that you think about Kellan to think of the funny things he did.' Truman then elaborated to us about how Kellan would make that funny sound and jump up and down when he wanted to make Truman laugh. Sort of like a wild monkey sound with flapping arms---something that made Truman giggle every single time. Then he drew a picture of Kellan with God in heaven at the bottom of the letter. Later Truman said, 'That is God taking care of Kellan,' and both Nate and I couldn't really speak for a few moments, fighting back huge tears and a sense of grief and also gratitude. Thankful for our kind boy and his ability to talk to us about his feelings. 




Cecelia is so much younger and at age three, I wasn't sure what she would understand. When we told them both together at the breakfast table, she asked us, 'Why did my friend die?' She asked it twice before I could swallow away the lump in my throat to repeat our scrip. And 'why was he so sick?' was another frequently asked question. But that's about all she said at first--she didn't cry, but she did comment on Nate's and my tears. She seemed a little testy to Porter right after we told them. But for the most part she didn't seem to think about it much that morning.

Later that night Cecelia was crying and disproportionally upset over something insignificant (like losing a ball under the bed). I asked if she was sad and she said, 'I'm sad Kellan got sick.' She asked me why he got so sick. I gave her a huge bear hug and we talked for awhile. She said 'I miss my friend' and I cried the ugly cry, gasping a bit, and really feeling a deep sorrow as I hugged my three-and-a-half year old who was just a few days older than Kellan. Best buddies. So many memories. She missed her friend, and I was at a loss of how to make sense of it all for her. 

Since last weekend, Cecelia has been giving a lot of frequent 'I love you, mommy' statements.
She's a little more emotional and she wanted me to lay down with her one night, which she never does anymore. She hugged me, kissed me, and said she loved me. 'Don't you love my bed, too?' She said she knows I love her, too, because she is my girl. One night she randomly said, 'I hope Kellan gets better really soon. Are there toys in heaven for him? What will he do there? Are there other kids there? I wonder what heaven is like.' It's like she understands but not the finality of it, as she seems to be waiting for a day when he is 'all better.'

Tonight as she was going to the bathroom before bed: 'Hey, we are still alive! I don't want anyone in the whole world to die, Mommy. You're the best mommy ever. I don't want you to die. I love you, Mommy. I love everything in the whole wide world. ' Lots and lots of hugs and kisses from our little girl, none of them taken for granted.

Kellan's story has made the news on two different stations now. After watching Lori being interviewed on the news, the kids were excited to see and recognize her. They loved all of Kellan's pictures scrolling through on the TV and would say things like, 'hey, look at his awesome blanket there! He is laughing and running!' But once the clip was over they were both very quiet. Truman said he was sad and Cecelia just kept asking why he died. Truman has frequently said 'I'm sad that Kellan died, mommy.' And I will just tell him that it's okay to be sad, that I'm sad too, and then we think of some funny Kellan moments or things that we loved about that little boy. It's been hard you guys, but as soon as I think about that statement I feel horribly guilty.

Because, really? Hard? Hard is being the mom to Kellan, losing a son who was three years old, and losing him quickly and to an illness that is 'rare' and not supposed to happen. I feel physically ill when I think about Becky and Brad having to do Christmas without Kellan there. Reading some of their Facebook updates and even getting a glimpse into their reality right now is beyond heartbreaking. I've enjoyed my children so much this Christmas and it's been a wonderful celebration---but there is definitely an underlying weight of sadness as well. Which of course doesn't touch the severity of Brad and Becky's pain.

One very significant silver lining, one positive part of the story: Kellan was able to donate his heart, liver, and kidneys to little children who needed those organs in order to get another chance at life. Talk about the ultimate Christmas gift, the ultimate selfless act by Brad and Becky. It's just amazing to me that they could think clearly enough to make the decision to donate. Truly inspiring to make something so good come out of such a sad situation.

Also, the GoFundMe site is beyond my wildest imagination for raising money. I know a lot of you readers donated and for that I am so thankful, it's really so amazing to see everyone support Brad and Becky through this. I know everyone just wants to do something that might help--I wish we could take their pain away, but since we can't it's wonderful to take the burden of finances away. They are overwhelmed and grateful for your donations, you guys. Thank you.

As Memaw said in an email to me:
"People showing the goodness of their hearts.  Empathy in its purest form.  A reverence for life as never before. The reality that death is no respecter of age. A renewing of the mind that the tangibles of this world can never compete with what really matters. A busy world coming to a halt and requiring the heart to grow quiet and ponder what it may never have pondered before.  There is no thinking of the future, only of the now." That woman sure has a way to nail my thoughts with her words. 

Other things I wanted to mention: we found out that the strain of bacteria that caused Kellan's meningitis is NOT one covered by the HiB vaccination. So it's not like the vaccine didn't work, it's just even more rare than the Type B strain that the vaccine covers. I'm not sure if that fact makes it easier or harder to believe that this is really real, and this really did happen. The worst case scenario played out with lightning speeds and we won't ever know why. I just can't wrap my head around it. The health department finally called all of us daycare moms and of course they couldn't provide the hard answers like 'WHY', but I guess I'm realizing that this particular bacteria isn't uncommon. It's out there, it might just cause a cold or an ear infection or not cause a single symptom. It's course to progress into fatal meningitis is quite uncommon, however, and they weren't able to give solid numbers for how rare 'very rare' is in Wisconsin. I just wish I knew if this particular strain causes meningitis a handful of times each year, or every few years, or what. But again---it's so rare that there aren't even reports run on it, as per the health department lady. Perplexing, right?

Lori and her husband came over to our house on Tuesday, because she really wanted the kids to have their Christmas gifts from them. Totally unnecessary, obviously, but I knew she also wanted to see the kids for herself to know they are still well. Seeing and hugging Lori made this feel real and it was hard to fight back the tears to speak, but we somehow managed to have a great conversation. Lori was happy to see all three kids and cried when hugging Cecelia---I know CC's proximity to Kellan in age and in their time spent together at Lori's through the years made her big blue eyes and loving grin difficult to handle. But it was a much needed visit and all a part of the healing process, to face reality. I just can't stop thinking about their entire family---something that numerous people have said in comments/messages/emails. It's a hard story to get out of your head.

I've found myself in a puddle of tears when listening to music this last week. During the Christmas Eve service at church, I had to wipe my eyes many times when listening to the children's choir sing with their sweet little voices. Thinking of Kellan and how he was probably singing two weekends ago and now he is gone....thinking of how the Christmas story is so full of hope and life and excitement, and losing Kellan has been so devastating....thinking of how I know God must have a plan and this life on earth is not all there is, but taking a child away from this world is just beyond any comprehension to me. Then the congregation sang the song 'Silent Night' and although I was walking around the hallways with a very antsy Porter, I still cried at hearing the lyrics. I know Brad and Becky's house is so painfully quiet now. And sleeping in heavenly peace is such a reassuring, fragile way to think of Kellan. I hope heaven has plenty of toys for him this year, something I know Cecelia wonders, too.

I heard a new song by William Fitzsimmons called 'Funeral Dress' and it sort of took my breath away with the lyrics:

And don’t worry if laughter is on your lips
Cause you wouldn’t be you if you changed for this
And I won’t measure love from the tears that drip
From your face

I can't wait for you

-The song 'Atlas Hands' by Benjamin Francis Leftwich:
I will remember your face
'Cause I am still in love with that place
But when the stars are the only things we share
Will you be there?


-A quote that my mom found that seems so fitting:
'Grief never ends...but it changes. It's a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith...It is the price of love.'

-A poem that a friend on Facebook found:
"Little Angels When God calls little children to dwell with Him above. We mortals sometimes question the wisdom of His love. for no heartache compares with the death of one small child, who does so much to make our world seem wonderful and mild. Perhaps God tires of calling the aged to His fold. So He picks a rosebud before it can grow old. God knows how much we need them and so He takes but few, to make the land of Heaven more beautiful to view. Believing this is difficult still somehow we must try. The saddest word mankind know will always be "Goodbye". So when a child departs we who are left behind, must realize God loves children, Angels like Kellan are hard to find." -unknown

I realize this is a busy time for everyone and not many are reading blogs right now. Everyone is high on the Christmas experience and should be happy/celebrating, not reading sad thoughts from me. But I just wanted to get a lot of these thoughts off my brain and onto a post, as I process all of my thoughts. I know that many understand the experience of losing someone in their lives, so perhaps just sharing my thoughts could help someone else. So many of you have said you are thinking and praying for Kellan's family, and it's truly appreciated. The visitation and funeral are on Tuesday 12/29/15 and I know it's going to be really difficult to go, but I am also looking forward to having some closure with the services.

I hope you all had an excellent Christmas and have been holding those dear to your hearts even closer than before. I know I've gained perspective though all of this and hope it doesn't slowly slip away. Life is really unfair and scary sometimes, but it's also still quite beautiful.

Thank you readers, for listening (reading). ;)

No Appropriate Title Goes Here

The past three days have been surreal, they've been heartbreaking, they've been nearly unbearable. Now is one of the times in my life when I'm at a loss for words. I'm grieving, I'm mad, I'm sad, I'm scared, and I'm confused. But I'm determined to find a few words for you here because this story deserves it.

Our daycare provider, Lori, has two grandsons who have both grown up with Truman and Cecelia. Kaydin is two weeks older than Truman, and Kellan five days younger than Cecelia. On Wednesday after work, I went to Lori's just like I've done for five years. Kellan was there and he and Porter were playing with legos. He helped me look for Porter's lost Thomas train and was just his usual self: spunky, hilarious, full of personality.

On Thursday morning, December 17th, I got a message from Lori while I was out shopping with Cecelia and Porter around 10:30 am. She said there might be a bug going around the house, and Kellan had a 103 degree fever and had vomited. Minutes later she said his parents, Brad (Lori's son) and Becky, were taking Kellan to the ER at Children's Hospital because they thought he might have had a few seizures. By 4pm, Lori said that Kellan was in critical condition and getting a cath to the heart for faster medication administration. That night we knew he was in a medically induced coma and they were waiting for the official diagnosis for which type of meningitis. We were hopeful, albeit scared, that he would pull through this just fine and we could all tell him how much he scared the living crap out of us that one time he had meningitis.

Friday only brought horrible news, the worst possible news. First came the official diagnosis of bacterial meningitis, with the bacteria being extremely rare and one that is usually wiped out with vaccinations. It just didn't make sense. It still doesn't make sense. Kellan was fully vaccinated and he didn't seem sick prior to Thursday morning when the world came crashing down. The doctors say that before the HiB vaccine, this type of meningitis was alarmingly common and now it's not, so obviously the vaccine does usually work. Maybe Kellan's body just didn't take to the vaccine, or maybe it was a different strain from what the vaccine protects us against. Who knows, we probably won't ever really know. {Update, weeks later: the strain of bacteria was even MORE rare than they originally thought. Type F and not Type B Haemophilus Influenza. Not vaccinated against because Type F is rarer than rare.}

More horrendous news followed on Friday, as the physicians painted a very bleak picture for prognosis. Within 36 hours from the time Kellan first showed signs of anything wrong, the entire world had changed for his family. 

On Saturday, December 19th, Kellan passed away as the infection was unrecoverable. He was three-and-a-half years old. It happened so fast, nearly instantaneously. All from a rare, highly unlikely illness. Life can change in a moment, I've always 'known' that. But in this moment, I feel it in my heart more than I could have ever predicted before. We are all heartbroken. I cannot even begin to imagine the depth of sorrow that Brad, Becky, Lori and their entire family are feeling. 

When I think about Kellan's mom, Becky, never being able to kiss her buddy goodnight again I can't handle it. When I think about his Christmas gifts that he'll never get to tear open, I can't handle it. When I think about his big brother whose life has forever changed, I can't handle it. I look at Cecelia and I know I have to tell her that one of her best friends is gone and I truly cannot handle it. 

Both Truman and Cecelia know that Kellan has been very sick and in the hospital. We've prayed for him each night and to hear their innocence nearly breaks me. 'Dear God, please let Kellan get a bandaid for his owie. Or let him go to the doctor to get better.' Several people have sent us ideas on how to navigate this subject with the kids. But the bottom line is that life is really effing unfair sometimes, and there are no good answers. I believe in God, I believe in heaven, and that Kellan is up there waiting for us. But to be very honest with you, I don't know how God could allow this to happen. 

We were dancing in the kitchen this morning, and I just started sobbing as I buried my nose into Cecelia's intoxicating curls. Why are we the lucky ones who get to experience the little treasures with our kids, and Brad and Becky don't? The pictures of Cecelia and Kellan through the years are both gut wrenching and the most precious gifts. I know she is going to miss her friend but I also believe she is probably too young to fully grasp the concept of death. We are going to tell the kids tomorrow and I'm dreading it, but know it has to happen. Pray for both of them, but I have a feeling Truman will take it the hardest, my sensitive little guy.

Porter is on some pretty hard-core antibiotics as a precaution, even though many of the doctors say the chances of this spreading are basically zero. After many calls to my pediatrician, the pediatric infectious disease doctor at the hospital, and then NO call from the health department as was promised I decided that giving Porter the antibiotics would give me a slight piece of mind. Again, his chance of getting this infection is basically nothing...but I also feel like nothing makes sense, statistics don't soothe me, because Kellan wasn't supposed to get it either. So we will do meds for four days, and once the week long window of incubation ends next week on Wednesday, I might stop watching him for the slightest sign of a fever/lethargy. But actually, nothing will change my anxiety when it comes to imagining the most outlandish things happening to my children. Kellan's story has only heightened this anxiety. 

I remember Kellan's phase of running into Lori's kitchen, as I would drop one or two of my three children off before work, and he would just roar like a tiger. It was a tiger phase and he didn't want to speak, only roared at me. Lori called both Kellan and Cecelia 'sassy pants' because they sort of ruled the roost around there for a few years, when they were big dogs on campus;)

On Cecelia's final day at Lori's, two weeks ago, I remember taking a few pictures of CC with her buddies. Kellan happily posed for a few of my shots, and it was bittersweet because Cecelia and Kellan have always been so close. Two peas in a pod, troublemakers, always talking about having sleepovers and taking over the world someday, sweet talking their way into Lori's candy drawer more often than not. 

Cecelia's last day at Lori's, 12/3/15

I remember that for the last two weeks, when Cecelia has been at home with Tony, I would sometimes take CC with me to pick up Porter at the end of my day. Most of those times Kellan seemed indifferent towards CC, almost like he was punishing her for being gone. Like he didn't really want to say goodbye, or even 'hi, there, friend!'. But then on Monday, the last time that Truman and Cecelia saw Kellan, I saw Kellan walk slowly by the kitchen where we were all standing. He grinned at Cecelia in a knowing little smirk and said, 'Hi, CC.' They hugged, she said 'hi' to him. And then he wanted to pull her into the front room to show her some toy he'd been creating. It was like he forgave her for leaving him, and to see her face light up at his affection melted me. 

We've created a Go FundMe site for Kellan's family, as I'm certain the medical bills, time off at work, and funeral costs will be an added stress for Brad and Becky. If you feel touched by Kellan's story, and if you feel as helpless as we all do, this would be a tangible way to help. I think the success of this fundraising so far speaks volumes about Brad and Becky, and about Kellan. But I also think this story really affects people because of how sudden Kellan left this world. Because of how unfair it is to lose a child. Because bacterial meningitis, and especially the strain of bacteria that infected Kellan, is supposed to be one of those things that statistics say won't likely happen. Or if it does happen, mortality is supposed to be low. His story touches people because he was so obviously loved, and because it's the week of Christmas and this family has to find a way to continue living when it seems like this loss might actually kill a person. Nothing will be the same for them, certainly.

When I think of this family and what they've endured in the past three days, and the magnitude of grief that has just landed on their shoulders, I want to cry for the millionth time. But I also want to share Kellan's story and do whatever I can to feel less helpless. If you are the praying type, I'd like to ask for your prayers for Kellan's family. It's just unfathomable. 

One final note: when I was talking to the infectious disease doctor on the phone yesterday, she told me something that brought me to tears yet again. She said that Lori and the family told her that if any of us daycare moms called, she was supposed to tell us one thing: to hold our children even tighter, to soak them in and never take a second for granted. 

Because sure, parenting small kids is freaking hard sometimes. But the things that seemed hard on Wednesday are laughable right now. Thank you, Kellan, for that perspective in my own life. Thank you, blog readers, for reading along.