Friday, April 19, 2013

My Worst Fear...

I just want you to know that "something happening" to Gavin was always my worst fear.  I feared that he'd get hurt.  I feared that he'd be overlooked.  I feared that I wasn't getting his teeth brushed well enough when he'd fight me.  I feared that someone would say no when I asked for anything to make Gavin's life easier (luckily I rarely heard no).  I feared that his fragile left eye that survived the severe corneal abrasion would tear again.  I feared that he'd choke - or aspirate on bath water when he insisted on putting his face in the water.  I feared a repeat febrile seizure after last year's seizure that Ed and I both described as the scariest moment of our lives.  I feared that we'd die without us having something in place for him - someone to take care of him.

I took some criticism along the way.  I was a "helicopter mom."  "Overprotective."  "Dramatic."  

I'm not gonna lie - I'd like to punch those people in the arm right now.

Today I got through Gavin's first three years and lovingly chose photos to display at the services.  My sisters helped assemble them on display boards.  I struggled through his memory box pulling out tiny hospital bracelets and special keepsakes.  Miss Sara took Brian to my wonderful friend Patti's house for a playdate with her twins.  A co-worker of Ed's brought dinner.  And then Miss Sara and I went to the mall to find me something blue to wear for Gavin's funeral.  I was sleepwalking.

Now I'm home - in bed - listening to the pouring rain pound my window.  It's like the Heavens are giving me permission to grieve.

And so I do.  

"Something happening" to Gavin was always my worst fear.

But I never imagined he'd suddenly die.

For the last five and a half years my identity has been wrapped up in him... in protecting him... in fighting for him... in my fears for his safety and well being and his future.  But in the end, I was helpless and useless.  There were no letters to write, appeals to begin, strings to pull.  I couldn't help him.  And he died.  My very worst fear.

Tonight I feel like it will rain forever.


93 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. I am crying in the rain with you as well and have been since 15, 2008. Please know that my beloved Heather Dawn has enfolded your little boy in her angel wings and will hold him close.

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  2. There are no words, sweet Kate. You don't know me, but I grieve with you. God bless.

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  3. Oh....just hugs and prayers for comfort.

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  4. Michelle in AustraliaApril 19, 2013 at 10:00 PM

    Crying, on the other side of the planet, with you.

    Michelle

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  5. Sleep walking is a great way to describe the way you feel. Almost like you are watching some of this happen, from a distance. I am so very sorry for what you are going through. My cousin lost his 4-year-old son, last summer. Everything felt different, for me, after that happened. I had a weird, disoriented feeling, like everything had changed. I hope that you are able to find a support system to help you through the next parts of grief. You are so strong now, but soon it will be time for other people to hold you and your husband up. I wish you a moment's peace tonight.

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  6. Sometimes you just need to grieve. And know that we grieve with you.

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  7. I feel helpless just reading this. I pray for you and Ed and Brian every night Kate. I pray that you all find some sort of peace. I can't imagine what you are going through. I won't even pretend to know. But if you can, if you are able to, I hope you will seek out a grief support group for your family. And I hope that blogging and talking about all these feelings, about Gavin, all your hopes and dreams, will help. Your friends are here for you. Much love coming your way....Always.

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  8. Kate, my thoughts are with you. You will never give up fighting and protecting him for you have brought to light so many issues and paved the way for people that are not in your situation to understand, to care, to step up, and I will not forget that and know others won't. My heart hurts for you so much. I hope you can sleep and dream of your baby boy tonight.

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  9. Take this time and grieve. We are crying with you.

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  10. There is a beautiful country song called "Holes in the Floor of Heaven." it has beautiful lyrics, but to paraphrase it basically says that rain is the tears of our loved ones wishing that they could be with us at important moments. That song has helped me through the loss of my grandmother, and then nine months later, when our precious second daughter was stillborn. I wish you peace and time to grieve and please be kind to yourself knowing you gave your son a lifetime of love. Prayers are with you.

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  11. Thinking of you and praying for your family. Even though you feel like it, you were never useless. God bless you and I pray you for God to heal your heart. Thank you for sharing Gavin with us. I know you do not believe you did anything out of the ordinary in doing so. But to me, you were extraordinary!

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  12. Oh Kate:

    My heart breaks for you. I can't even imagine what you are going through. I cry right along with you tonight.

    Tia

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  13. You aren't useless! You were there loving him and holding him until Jesus was ready to love and hold him. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

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  14. Kate, I have shed so many tears for you and your family. I am so sorry for your loss, and, although, you will never meet me, I am grieving for you.

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  15. Oh, Kate, my heart aches for you.

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  16. The rain will eventually pass, and Gavin will show you a rainbow. For he lives on, I am sure if it. You made sure that his soul touched countles people. Gavin's spirit lives on -- courage and selflessness are part of his legacy.

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  17. Oh Kate my heart breaks for you.. I have read some of your blog and from what I have read you were the best mom to Gavin and Brian. Sometimes it is in God's hands and we are helpless to change the outcome. You tried your hardest you did your very best that was and is all you can do. This Sucks my heart weeps for your family. You are still fighting for both your boys they are lucky to have you as a mama. Much love sent your way

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  18. Oh Kate,
    I'm so sorry. This is so unfair. I have no words. You were AND still am the worlds best mommy to Gavin. He was meant to bless you and you him. I don't know why tragedy strikes such great people. You love, didn't fail Gavin. You weren't useless. You were his everything along with Ed and Brian. Grieve. Be angry. It's ok to be pissed at the hand you've been dealt. I think of your family daily and pray throughout the day. May the lord lift you up and embrace you during this trying time.
    Danielle

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  19. i am so incredibly sorry for your loss.

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  20. I have no words, but I felt that I needed to say something. So my something is, grieve. Grieve and grieve again. You've been so strong for so long, I think you deserve to say what you want, feel what you want, and to grieve how you want. Your son is still spreading love, all around. He is still here, in your memories you've graciously shared. Thank you for the opportunity to know your amazing son, you, and your entire family. Peace be with you.

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  21. I am so sorry. Please do grieve.

    I have often said that the scariest prospect for me is that idea that one day I won't have anything I can do--that i will just have to accept what is.

    Wish you love and light.

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  22. It is raining here as well, and so I will weep with you for sweet Gavin.

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  23. I know how you feel; I have been where you are. I lost my Sarah when she was 18 yrs old. She dies of respiratory arrest due to a rare form of cerebral palsy. She was my heart, just as your son is yours. I too felt it would rain forever, that the future was gray. But life went on and 7 yrs later I can promise you that it will get easier to bear. No, it won't ever go away, but one day the sun will shine again. I wish you peace of heart.

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  24. kate, we don't know each other, but i do know about what it is to love like a mother loves. i can say with certainty that in those last moments of gavin's life, you were anything but useless. although you couldn't save his life, you, as his mom, made every minute of his life love-filled. there is nothing greater that any mom can do.
    praying for you, kate.
    shannon

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  25. I just found your blog Monday through Ellen, and my heart is so broken for you. I wish that I could be there to hug you and your family. I believe in my heart that sweet Gavin is there in spirit, guiding the three of you through this process. I pray that you all will find peace in knowing that he touched so many lives. God bless you, Ed, and Brian.

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  26. I was just thinking about you all, can't get him off my mind. Kate, i am so sorry and can't even imagine.. This is the 3rd time i've cried over Gavin today... I just told myself don't cry for him, hes so happy..more than happy in heaven, having so much fun, im sure. Gavin is a special boy.. He's touched so many lives.. He's amazing. We all love him... Thank you for sharing him with us. He has made me into a better mom, I don't take a second for granted now. You were lucky to have each other. I wish I could take your families pain away.. Just know you have so many supporters,

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  27. A mother's love is NEVER useless. Don't ever think that. You did everything you could for your son. Sometimes our "everything" just isn't quite enough, but not for lack of trying. You are such a courageous woman. Being a mom in this world is tough enough. You have had some special challenges. Ones no mother should ever have to face. You faced them head on, and you fought your hardest for you child. Far from useless. My heart breaks with you. As a mother, as a human being. You are an amazing woman for having been through hell and back and still you share your life with perfect strangers. Giving others a glimpse into your life, what it is like to raise a special needs child,...simply amazing that you still have the strength to share with us. My heart goes out to you, your husband, Brian, and the rest of your family and friends. You are a special family. Thank you again for sharing with us.

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  28. My worst fear for my special son unfortunately happened to yours. I am truly sorry for your loss and pray for you, Ed, and Brian. Hugs from a friend.

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  29. Kate... you were never useless, even in the end. I am so very very very sorry and I'm sending many prayers your way. I wish I could have met Gavin in real life.
    Amy O'Dell

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  30. I found your family through a friends Facebook post and immediately felt connected to you. Your family is changing lives across the world! I am sending prayers and hugs to you now....from one helicopter mom to another.

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  31. In the short time I have read this blog it has made me realize that I am definitely not the mother I should be. I see so much in you that if I had it, my children would benefit. I lack such as a mother. I am so ashamed. You have inspired me to be a better mother and be that "helicopter parent" to the ones I love so much. You were never useless. I pray for you tonight as you grieve. I am grieving right along with you. I have tears for you that are there simply because you hurt and I can't fix it for you.

    You most likely will never meet me but my heart breaks for you and Ed.

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  32. Oh Kate, I am so sorry for the passing of Gavin....I just recently started following Chasing Rainbows…YES, you were robbed of more time with Gavin......I have fallen in love with your family….I've laughed, I've cried, I've prayed. Thank you for sharing Gavin with us. You and Ed are such an inspiration! Brian tugging on the heart string to heaven really got me! Gavin was a true gift from God and he has touched me and I think of ya'll daily! Goodnight and much love from Texas!

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  33. No mother deserves to bury two of her children! May God give you all the strength you need. I love following you on FB! You are an inspiration to all the other "helicopter mothers" who fight for their special children every day!! Love from South Dakota.

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  34. Kate, I have no words to respond to your grief filled words. I'm praying for you as you grieve. Crying with you even though I know I don't know the half of what you're feeling right now. My heart hurts for the pain you are going through and I pray that as time goes on the healing you need deep in your heart, the innermost part of you, I pray it comes when the time is right.

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  35. Grieving with you for Gavin right here in PA with the rain pounding on rooftop right now. You are an incredible mom and I'm so sorry for your loss. May God grant you peace, the peace that surpasses all understanding. God bless you and entirely family.

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  36. You can pull that invisible string, too. Wrapping you in a million hugs.

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  37. Kate-- You are not useless. Even now, you are sharing your grief and blessing us with Gavin's story. As a mom, you are inspiring me to cherish small moments and mundane tasks. As a woman, you are showing me what strength looks like, and that there is strength in grief. Ever since your post that Gavin needed prayers, my 2 year old son and I have been praying for him and you and your family. We will continue to do so nightly for as long as you need. Allow yourself to cry tonight, but please know there is an army of 'internet friends' holding your family up in prayer.

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  38. Can't imagine the pain you and your family are enduring. But always remember that you did everything in your power for Gavin and you gave him so much. You also gave your followers so much by sharing your story with us. It may not help now, but we share your sorrow, your pain, your sadness. We also share the joy that Gavin brought you all by the love through your pictures. I will never forget your story or your beautiful son. Give yourself time to grieve and just love each other. Be proud of all you gave Gavin and all that you will continue to give Brian. I will continue to keep you all in my prayers.

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  39. Kate, You will NEVER EVER stop being Gavin's mommy and you are NEVER useless. I understand your feelings and your frustration. Our 5 year old has special needs and "something happening" to her is also one of my greatest fears. I think it is just different with a special needs child in the sense that so much of your life is wrapped up in them. They reshape you into a person that you never knew you could be. Into truly the best version of yourself. You become their nurse/Dr/caretaker/therapist/Early Interventionist. It is so many more hats than you ever possibly thought you would wear and after all of that is gone what do you do? The reality of it is that it is never truly gone. The memory of Gavin will live on forever. You are a better parent for having him and he is surely a better child. He could not have possibly been happier than he was having you two as parents. You did everything right. Everything you possibly could and that time is never wasted. It is never useless. You never failed him.

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  40. Helpless, yes. But useless, never. You could not stop his death, and that paralyzing helplessness is heartbreaking. But you stood beside him and held him until the end. When he was dying, you were his mother in the most painful way a parent will ever have to be. And even as the light went out of his eyes, you had the courage to ensure that his memory will never be lost. It's cold comfort right now, I'm sure, but truly, you were never useless.

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  41. I'm heartbroken for you, Ed, and Brian. Gavin is certainly in a better place WITH a piece of him forever living in your heart. I wish I knew what to say but I don't... other than I just feel SO much and I hear the rain too. I'm only about an hour south of where you live. I'll go to bed thinking and praying for Gavin.

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  42. I swear I hear your rain now and my heart aches with and for you.....

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  43. As a mother of three I simply can not imagine what you are going through. I won't pretend I know what your feeling...because from one mother to another I know I dont. But my heart breaks for you and your husband. Please know I'm thinking of you and your family and wishing you happy thoughts and memories of Gavin in this awful time. The happy memories are what to need to hold on to. Keeo them close to your heart. Much love from my famly to yours. Abbie

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  44. I have been heart broken for you. I have been crying reading your posts. I truly feel for you and your family. As mothers, we want to protect our children no matter what and I don't understand why little innocent children have to be taken from us so young. Prayers go out to you, your family and little Gavin.

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  45. If you are a helicopter mom then i would love to be one too. You are a blessing and I am grateful that you allow us to share your life. Thank you so much for sharing your precious son. Love and prayers your way.

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  46. I can't begin to imagine your pain. The rain, however, does have a way of bringing out the sadness. It seems, with the loss of each of my loved ones, rain came. I always associated it with the angels crying with us. You were never useless. It may feel that way, but God puts each of us on this Earth with a purpose. Gavin had many. And without your force, they would have never been noticed. You...were never useless.

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  47. I can't stop thinking of you. I have cried with you and for you in the past few days. Big hugs.

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  48. I had similar feelings, but our son was 16. We had him 14 more years than expected. Don't feel you didn't keep him safe--he is in the safest place you could ever wish for him. When you get to that point of REALLY knowing that and not feeling like it is a platitude, you will honor him with activities you may not have been able to do when he was alive--knowing that he is now able to be "with" you. We went hiking in California and did some other things that we would never have done with Bobby alive. And when we did we knew he was there with us, enjoying it with us. Also, knowing that we will see him again was a great comfort. It has been almost 14 years, so I've had some time to live with the loss--but you never get "over" it, you learn to live with it . Joy comes again when you know you are honoring his life, not focusing on his death. This takes time. Allow yourself to feel all the pain and loss and grief. The first year is the absolute worst, IMHO. Take it easy on yourself and know that you don't have to take care of everybody else. Let others take care of you. Prayers, love and light are sent your way.

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  49. From my experiences, I have found that it doesn't stop raining, but eventually the constant downpour will feel more like a sprinkle and every once in awhile the sun will come out and a beautiful rainbow will peak out and blow me away.

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  50. Praying for you and your family!

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  51. Dear Kate - I've been watching your videos of Gavin and have seen how beautiful and sweet he is and how he loved his life with you. I am grieving for you and with you. He was just too perfect for this world and you and Ed were his perfect parents. With much love-

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  52. You did everything you could Kate. Everything.

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  53. I feel all any of us can do, especially those of us who don't technically know you, but love you, (and adore Gavin) is to just grieve by your side in the rain. You, your husband & Brian are so wrapped tight in the prayers of so many people. I really wish we could see the unseeable right before our eyes. I believe you would see Gavin bathed in light, health and love as he cheers you, his daddy and little brother on, knowing that the day will come when you will see and know what he now see's and knows! "For now we see dimly, as in a mirror, but then we shall see face to face!" I also believe that he is sharing and it is well known in Heaven, what an incredible mommy he has! You were anything but useless Kate, you are and always will be his angel in mommy form. Praying for you to have supernatural strength from the Lord in the days to come. I am also excited about the birthday wish and the opportunities I will be given to honor Gavin's life. I am forever changed <3

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  54. My heart breaks for you tonight. I have been following your blog for years. You are such a strong person. I can only hope to be half the parent/advocate/person you are.

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  55. My daughter shares many of the same diagnosis as Gavin had. She had a stroke at nine days old and losing her is my worst fear. She is my full time job and like Brian, she has a sister who is her best friend. As I read your last few posts I could picture everything happening all too well and tears stung my cheeks as I watched it all play out. I scanned your journals thinking, what is different between Gavin and my baby, No this is too scary, too much to take in, I can't bear this pain for this Mother. In the end, my friend who reads your blog and has children with medical issues as well reiterated there was no difference, we are all living on the edge and not in control no matter how good of parents we have been.
    Man, you gave Gavin a chance to do more living in his five years on Earth than most do in an average life span. I read in one of your blogs that if they couldn't use Gavin's organs you were afraid he would die in vain. That would never ever be the case. His life touched thousands, if not more. His strength, perseverance, relationships and every other special attribute he had that only those who knew him could attest to is what he left behind. Sincerely, A Truly Touched Family In Upstate NY

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  57. Kate. I don't have anything helpful or useful to say, except that I love you for your openness, honesty, and strength. I am so heartbroken for your family. I have 2 boys (5 & 7 years old) and my oldest is living with a life-threatening food allergy. Each day, each moment, I live with your fear. My little guy's allergy is a contact allergy, so he could have a fatal reaction just from touching the things he's allergic to. I know the pressure of being that "helicopter parent” and it can be crushing. I know the anger and frustration of being misunderstood by those who don't carry the load of caring for a child whose body can be so fragile. I hate that feeling. I hate that both of my boys know how and when to use an epipen. I hate knowing that I could lose my boy in a matter of minutes if he touches the wrong doorknob. I hate that he is old enough to know it too. Each day I feel the weight of keeping him safe and healthy and happy. I feel overwhelmed when I see him struggling with feeling different or scared or left out. I fought so hard to get them here (I have PCOS & Endometriosis, so we were told we would never have children). It just doesn’t seem fair that I have to fight to keep them here too.

    It is a heavy load to carry, but seeing the way you have carried yours gives me hope. I love my boys as fiercely as you love yours, and I know I would want to give up if I lost them. My heart connects with your words as I read of the strength you find, even in the midst of enormous trial and heartache. I wish I could lighten your load now, as you grieve. I know I can't do that. I know that your heart MUST break, because so much of it belongs to your sweet Gavin. I pray that I will face the load I carry with such tenderness, dignity, grace, and resiliency. But more than that, I pray that I will face it with the honesty and openness that you are showing.

    I am so grateful for your willingness to share your journey. I need to know that it will be okay, not good... definitely not desirable, but okay. We will survive if our greatest fear comes to pass. I need to know, so I can focus on giving him the greatest life now, instead of worrying about what could so easily come. My prayers and deepest concern are with you and your sweet family.

    Sincerely,
    Laura Kebker

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  58. I have no doubt you were the perfect.mom.every.day. You will always be his angel, and he yours. We cry with you.

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  59. Grieve here on earth, but know that it is not raining on Gavin in heaven! There are many people who have you and your family in their thoughts and prayers.

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  60. I stumbled across your blog by accident the day that you lost your beautiful son. And I read, and read, and read, and read. And cried. I cry with you over your loss, I cry over your beautiful and loving words that bring me, a digital stranger, into your life. There are no words to express my heartbreak for you and your lovely family.
    I'm deeply sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing this sweet soul with the world. Run free little angel and watch over your family.

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  61. I am so sorry - so sorry your family has to live this. I don't know what to say to make it any better. I don't know you or your family at all but I will light a candle for you and hold you in my thoughts as a hug my family tight. Thank-you for sharing all you do...it is a wonderful gift - you are a strong amazing woman.

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  62. Get yourself one of those punching clowns, and have a go at it. It's too easy to put hurtful words out there; folks don't have to be accountable for them, in their privacy behind a computer.

    Love wins, and you, Ed, Gavin and Brian are such huge winners.

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  63. Kate,
    I have been one of your readers for a while. I have a daughter in kindergarten with Cerebral Palsy, who I have always felt was similar in so many uncanny ways with your amazing son, Gavin. The loss of Gavin was a tragedy that struck me to my core. My entire family, both immediate and extended are wrought with grief for you right now. I am so incredibly sorry for your heartbreaking loss and for what you are having to endure, both personally and as a family. Everything that you write has always touched my heart so deeply, as I feel like you have always been able to somehow able to put into words what I feel in my heart. My daughter, Ariana, suffers from grand mal seizures of extended duration when she gets a fever. These seizures require the a full arsenal of medications and an ICU team to stabilize. Your words in this post echoed my own worst fears; my own everything for that matter. When I read it to my husband with tears streaming down my face, he said, "That sounds exactly like you." I have never felt like I could relate to a complete stranger this completely. I just want you to know that we are praying for you and your family. We know what a wonderful mom you are and how Gavin chose you to be his mom because of your strength and depth and LOVE. We hope that you feel no shame in your grief. We want you to know that there are people in this world who feel for you and love you like a sister. I am one of them. Please take care of your hearts right now.

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  64. My tears & prayers are with you. Grieving is a process with many layers & emotions. All though it hard, it's so healthy & so important for you, Ed, Brian, Miss Sara & the rest of your family to do. One day at a time Kate. That's all you can do. XO

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  65. My prayers for you and Ed, Miss Sara, and Brian. Losing a child is my greatest fear also. I am a helicopter mom too, and you know what? It is okay. My children know they are well loved. Just like Gavin knew he was well loved, by a fierce protective mother and father who wanted to protect him and love him and keep him safe. You fought the good fight, you showed strength, you loved with all your being. That is something to which you can hold your head high. But first grieve and take care of you.

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  66. Sending you the biggest hug I can muster. Be kind to yourself. Gavin was meant for you and you meant for him. He could not have been more loved or cared for, you gave him the world and he blessed every single person he touched.

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  67. I can only imagine your grief, still your words gather me into an awareness that demands I stand present as a witness to your heartache. This also reads as a reminder, for each of us however distracted by our fear, to hold tightly to the blessing of this moment; to live in gratitude, act with compassion, love with intention, and hold our children near. Thank you, for so bravely allowing us to accompany you and honor Gavin.

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  68. Kate,

    Be still. Be in the rain. Let the tears flow. Scream and kick. We are in the rain with you. We are here with a beautiful umbrella when you are ready. We are here for you when you are ready to see the rainbow. It is going to be ok. Life is brutal but also beautiful. Love.

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  69. Pull on that invisible string.... love never ends!!!

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  70. When we lost our daughter, I truly, honestly did not think I would be able to live without her. Your words have reminded so much of the dark place where grief lives that I want to share with you one of the few things that brought me any comfort. I met a fellow member of this horrific club...a mom that had lost her son years before...she was helping other bereaved parents and I asked 'how' and 'when' did she start to heal?? She told me (and I will never forget)...'The grief doesn't go away, but it does soften'. And it does, I promise. One day you will realize you spent a minute not consumed by the sadness... Slowly those moments will become longer and more frequent, and you will realize the grief has begun to soften. Let it. Mom guilt will discourage it but it truly is ok. People ask - 'how did you survive?' And my answer is Grace (our daughter) taught us so much and was so strong; I am just her legacy. Sending hugs and tears.

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  71. No need to punch those heartless people in the arm...they already did it to themselves. Kim, my heart goes out to you and your family--there are simply no right words. Just know, you did make a difference, you mattered. You are and always will be a most significant model of a mother's unconditional love. What an incredible life you've shown Gavin. Let all those who love you help you now.....it's their turn. My prayers go out to you.

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  72. sending you so much love. Tina from Meah foundation shared your story with us. my heart goes out to you. I believe that we do reunite with our babies again and the pain of this world will not penetrate the gates of heaven. please pick up "proof of heaven", written b a neurosurgeon who had a near deah experience. amAzing book written to change the minds of even the most skeptical people.

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  73. Praying for you... That someday your rain will turn into rainbows.

    You didn't fail. God has other plans.

    Let yourself grieve. And then, get up, kiss Ed, hold Brian, and remember that God too has a plan for you.

    I'm not big on religious talk, but I have faith. And in terrible, tragic, "how could that happen" situations like this, that's all you can have --- faith.

    Thinking of you always.

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  74. Kate and family, I have been following your family since the early days on Caringbridge. I looked forward every day to Gavin's accomplishments, especially when he started to walk. I missed a couple of days while traveling and was so upset to read that he was in the hospital. I've cried many tears since.......I can honestly say I have been in the same place, having lost a daughter at age 6. The rain, the tears, the grief, never go away but like others have posted, the rainbows do come. Have faith. I read a quote not long ago: "Grief is not a sign of weakness.....it is the price of LOVE."

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  75. Oh, Kate. I can't begin to imagine how helpless you felt. But you were far from useless. Gavin knew you were there for him, doing everything you could; just as you always did.

    Nobody will ever cry for Gavin the way you will...but there are so many crying along with you at the same moments. Take care of yourself.
    -Sheila

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  76. Your family is in my prayers.

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  77. Kate I hope your beautiful writing brings you some comfort. We are so privileged to see this window into your brave and breaking heart. You will always have permission to grieve, sometimes you have to make the quiet spaces to let it happen and sometimes it will just creep up on you. You and your family are in my thoughts.

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  78. Impossible Possible by Jared Anderson

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  79. Continuing in prayer for you, Ed, Brian, and your loved ones...

    Susan in GA

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  80. I came across your blog this week and just wanted to express my condolences to you and your family. Through what I have read, there is no doubt that you were and will continue to be a absolutely wonderful mom to Gavin and Brian. I pray that the Lord gives you, your husband and son continued strength through these very difficult times.

    Lindsay in WA

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  81. You have permission to let it all out. Let yourself feel so that one day you can heal. Your words are powerful and inspiring and uplifting, but tonight, tomorrow, do what you need to for YOU, your husband, and son. And know that millions stand behind you. Behind our laptops and tablets, all over the country, wondering what Gavin is doing now, up in Heaven. You told his story so beautifully, I feel like I can see him and his wings. You are a writer, no doubt, but you will always be Gavin's protector, and Darcy and Brian. And just know, it won't rain all the time.

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  82. I just recently discovered you and your beautiful family through Momastery. Through tears I have read your updates, and now I feel compelled to write to you. It is beyond my comprehension how you could have ever been called a "helicopter" parent! Gavin had some needs that required you and Ed to be vigilant to keep him safe. I have a son with a congenital heart defect, and while he has no restrictions at this time you can be sure that I watch him like a hawk! That is just us mamas doing our job with love. Wishing you, Ed and Brian peace and healing. I know Gavin's celebration of life will be one of a kind, for a one of a kind boy!

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  83. Kate, I know that fear. I know you have the worst time of your life to get through. And I know that even though the unimaginable happened, you could not have done anything more than you did for Gavin.

    Nothing I can say will ease the pain, but I am here for you, as are many, many people who care about you.

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  84. Oh Kate, I know your feeling. My son has a nut allergy (though I know this pales in comparison to Gavin's situation) and I have received much, much criticism about being a hovering, neurotic, overprotective mother. Thank you for standing in that place with me. Our mommy hearts were built to protect our babies...you've given me some reassurance to continue to do just that. Prayers and thoughts to you, especially today. <3

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  85. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxXYXctndCQ

    I thought of this when I read this post. You may never find this, buried in all of the comments of love for you. But it is here for you, from me. Someone that just met and fell in love with Gavin.

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