Here's another poem I wrote having to do with my brother's death:
Neon green frowns tremble
Beneath the numerical eyes
Of the monster behind you.
Yet you remain still-
Knowing this monster may save your life
With its uncanny wisdom.
But how do we know this monster
Holds more truth then you?
For you are my superman –
My fallen hero
Still up for one more battle
Against this unknown temptress.
So, keep those numerical eyes blinking,
Don’t let the neon green fade to a line.
For you aren’t fighting against the monster
You’re fighting against time.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
the month from hell.
It has been a month since my brother passed away and it feels like it was just yesterday. I'm still numb to the fact that he is gone and am waiting for him to call or text or email me one of his goofy messages. I keep reminding myself that what happened this fall was real and it wasn't just an awful nightmare. However, I'm still just waiting to wake up.
I've been very unlike myself and I didn't expect anything less, really. I barely want to go out anymore or leave the apartment besides for school or work. Work is the highlight of my day. When I see the kids, it reminds me of what really matters in this world today and that is to help everyone survive. I barely ever want to drink and instead I have been so concentrated on the Twilight series that I have read the first two books within the past month (that's roughly 1,000 pages in 30 days - I'm usually a slow reader). I guess it drags me into a reality unlike my own and I can't help but be totally intoxicated by the story. I've also been writing alot and have written around 30 pages for my newest novel. It's good and I think that if I keep working hard that it will be a great success.
However, once I pause from my other reality, I go back to trying to pretend that the past month didn't happen and that Matt will walk through my door. I need someone to prove to me that there are such things as miracles and there are such things as spirits. Right now, I don't know what to believe.
I've been very unlike myself and I didn't expect anything less, really. I barely want to go out anymore or leave the apartment besides for school or work. Work is the highlight of my day. When I see the kids, it reminds me of what really matters in this world today and that is to help everyone survive. I barely ever want to drink and instead I have been so concentrated on the Twilight series that I have read the first two books within the past month (that's roughly 1,000 pages in 30 days - I'm usually a slow reader). I guess it drags me into a reality unlike my own and I can't help but be totally intoxicated by the story. I've also been writing alot and have written around 30 pages for my newest novel. It's good and I think that if I keep working hard that it will be a great success.
However, once I pause from my other reality, I go back to trying to pretend that the past month didn't happen and that Matt will walk through my door. I need someone to prove to me that there are such things as miracles and there are such things as spirits. Right now, I don't know what to believe.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
everyone has been touched by cancer.
This story is one written by one of my campers from Camp Good Days and Special Times. She wrote this after finding out about the passing of my brother. PLEASE take a few minutes to read this:
I'm not sure how this exactly happened, but this morning I was changed.Everything I saw I all of a sudden viewed differently. The bus ride to school this morning was silent from conversation, as usual. Mostly filled with freshman, everyone sat by themselves and tried to stay awake. Williamsville is quite dead at 7 o'clock in the morning. As I sat anxiously on the red leather seat, awaiting the Friday ahead of me, taking in the only noise of everyone's MP3 players that all mixed together sounded like static. Today everyone at school would be excited, in a good mood. My friends would fill me in on what parties were going on, who was going to be smoking weed for the first, and who was planning on hooking up with that sexy foreign exchange student. I, myself, was grounded from going out Friday and Saturday night for violating a "strict no talking back policy." Last night, I had been very upset because of it. This morning, it was the last thing on my mind. Yeah, everyone at school would be very excited. But I'm damn sure my friend Jenni Graham wasn't worried about catching rides to and from the coolest parties tomorrow night.
Although she of all people I knew was the one needing a fun weekend.I met Jenni 3 summers ago at camp. She was one of my counselors. She had just graduated high school and I believed she was the coolest human being to ever walk the earth. She had long curly brown hair that spiraled so gorgeous, and she had a nose ring. At the age of 12 nothing could've impressed me more than a nose ring. How cool was that? She was more of a camper to our cabin than a counselor. She stayed up with us late at night and we all talked about the most interesting of topics. Camp was the time of my life. No one lives by anyone, so no one really talks to each other except over the computer and phone during the year. But when we got off the buses at the Camp Good Days estate next summer, we all hugged. And cried. Then everything was as if we hadn't not just seen each other in 12 months. Jenni, again was one of our counselors. She told us about her first year at college, we told her our less exciting stories. The week was over we went home, and then another year passed. We came back to camp. The Lake, the food, all the goofy people were exactly the same. It was the one place we knew would never change. No matter how terrible the year was, we had something to look forward to. Always. The friendships I've come to make through camp, like ones with Shelby and Amanda and Jenni and Maggie, were like nothing I've ever experienced. Communication wasn't important for once in a world when it's all we think about. All that matters is knowing we have something in common, and we're all good people. And knowing that, every summer we'd have the time of our lives. The most fun that could ever be had was had.So this morning before I got on the bus I had some extra time.
I went on the computer, checked my MySpace and Facebook. I was thinking about camp this morning, and for no particular reason, Jenni. I decided to see what she's been up to and viewed her MySpace page. I read under her heroes her brother passed away on October 14th. Cancer. That's the first thing I thought of. Turns out, he HAD died from cancer. I couldn't believe it. As a young child Jenni had been touched by it too. She, unlike her late brother Matthew, was obviously a survivor. I had heard this story too many times. I immediately texted my friend from camp Amanda. She was very surprised (as I was too) I didn't know. So I asked her about what happened and her text that filled me in on how it had all went down so suddenly was received to my phone when I was on the bus. I looked out the window after reading it just taking the details that I'm not going to share with you in, not even thinking how to respond to something like that yet. A beam of light hit my eyes directly as the bus driver turned a corner.
The light had hit me so suddenly, and was so bright. Why did the bus driver had to go this way, turn down that side street? Because he had a plan. His goal was to pick up as many students attending Williamsville South High School as he had to and drop them off at the school. God had aslo had a plan. He had a plan for Matthew when he took him on that October morning. But he also had a plan for my Godfather when he beat a hard battle with Leukemia. He had a plan for Amanda's (the girl I was texting) father when he took his life last spring, leaving a family fatherless. Who would take them to those Sabers' Games? Who would now give Amanda all of her advice? She didn't know those answers, but God knew he needed Mr. Preston somewhere else. I responded to the text: Amanda, we have to do something. I can't watch another friend suffer from a great loss from cancer. And the truth was I couldn't. There HAD to be something I could do. When my older sister Elizabeth was in elementary school she had Leukemia. I watched her get all her hair cut off when I was 5 years old. I will never forget sitting on my sister's bed, with my mom, while my sisters backside was facing us as she looked out her window. I was 8 this time. My mom looked at me and pointed to the back of Elizabeth's head. There, was the beginning of a bald spot. I looked at my mom and frowned. I will never forget was happened next. I saw the look of pain in my Mother's face as tears began to roll down her cheek. She noticed I was still looking at her, and wiped her face and smiled at me. "She's going to be okay. Your Biffers a fighter." My "Biff" was a fighter, and for the second time she beat the odds. She was a survivor. So why was it that Elizabeth lived while Matthew didn't? My godfather, Mike, who is also a dad, also beat it when Mr. Preston did not? Who would walk Amanda down the isle?If I ever knew where my place in the world was it was at that moment, when the light hit my eyes. I'm not exactly a born-again-Christian but I knew it had to of been god. I needed to tell people, get their help. None of my school friends knew how cancer can tear a family apart, how quickly it will make you lose hope, and how much pain one human being can go through. Rather it's been your sister that has had leukemia, your grandma who beat colon cancer, your aunt who died from breast cancer, your Nanny who passed from cancer, or your father who died from a brain tumor, we have ALL been affected by cancer. But for me, it just so happens I know way too many examples of being affected. If you weren't affected before reading this, which is very rare, you are now that you know me, my friends, and my family's sad stories.
We can make a difference. Next time you have the opportunity, DONATE! A few dollars can go a long way. If your interested in volunteering at my summer camp just ask me. Even if you don't know me, I don't care. Camp Good Days will change your life forever. As for me, I decided that when I'm older my occupation will have something to do with cancer. Rather it be a scientist doing research, a writer writing articles to get people aware, a social worker at Rosewell, or even something for Camp, it's what I have to do.If you didn't read all that, at least read this: Post a comment on how cancer has affected your life. What's your story? We're only kids, but so was Carly. Ever heard of Carly's Club? She and my sister were treated at Rosewell at the same time. She was such a nice girl with so many hopes and dreams. The difference? Elizabeth walked out of the hospital, while Carly was carried.Another story of mine worth reading:My sister missed just about her whole 4th grade year because she was being treated, and she was very sick.
My mom hired her a tutor. She came to our house many times a week and was just about the nicest lady you'd ever met. She had a son and a daughter a few years older than my sister and I. My family became very close with Mrs. Rouldoph, the tutor, and her family. She was a really good tutor and thanks to her my sister didn't have to be held back. It was almost a miracle. What was a bigger miracle was that year my sister also overcame her cancer, something the doctors told my mom was likely to not ever happen. My sister went to middle school the next year, and we still stayed in touch with the Rouldophs'. That year, the first year of Elizabeth being in middle school, Mrs. Rouldoph was diagnosed with the same type of cancer Liz had almost died of.Leukeumia again. We were there for her and her family every step of the way. Unfortunetly that wasn't enough for her life. She passed away. I believe her funeral was the first I've ever been to. After that, we sorta lossed touch with the Rouldoph's. Last thursday, I was sitting eating my cereal when I heard my mom say oh my god. Then she ran into the kitchen and dropped the newspaper in the counter. She looked at me and told me she just read about Mrs. Rouldoph's son. He was attending college where a week ago he'd hung himself. Why? I didn't want to know. How could he do that when he watched his own mother fight so very hard for her life? I was disgusted and distraught. Now, all that are left of the Rouldophs' are the father and the daughter.
This blog is dedicated to everyone in the world who has been affected by cancer.
- Kat
WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
I'm not sure how this exactly happened, but this morning I was changed.Everything I saw I all of a sudden viewed differently. The bus ride to school this morning was silent from conversation, as usual. Mostly filled with freshman, everyone sat by themselves and tried to stay awake. Williamsville is quite dead at 7 o'clock in the morning. As I sat anxiously on the red leather seat, awaiting the Friday ahead of me, taking in the only noise of everyone's MP3 players that all mixed together sounded like static. Today everyone at school would be excited, in a good mood. My friends would fill me in on what parties were going on, who was going to be smoking weed for the first, and who was planning on hooking up with that sexy foreign exchange student. I, myself, was grounded from going out Friday and Saturday night for violating a "strict no talking back policy." Last night, I had been very upset because of it. This morning, it was the last thing on my mind. Yeah, everyone at school would be very excited. But I'm damn sure my friend Jenni Graham wasn't worried about catching rides to and from the coolest parties tomorrow night.
Although she of all people I knew was the one needing a fun weekend.I met Jenni 3 summers ago at camp. She was one of my counselors. She had just graduated high school and I believed she was the coolest human being to ever walk the earth. She had long curly brown hair that spiraled so gorgeous, and she had a nose ring. At the age of 12 nothing could've impressed me more than a nose ring. How cool was that? She was more of a camper to our cabin than a counselor. She stayed up with us late at night and we all talked about the most interesting of topics. Camp was the time of my life. No one lives by anyone, so no one really talks to each other except over the computer and phone during the year. But when we got off the buses at the Camp Good Days estate next summer, we all hugged. And cried. Then everything was as if we hadn't not just seen each other in 12 months. Jenni, again was one of our counselors. She told us about her first year at college, we told her our less exciting stories. The week was over we went home, and then another year passed. We came back to camp. The Lake, the food, all the goofy people were exactly the same. It was the one place we knew would never change. No matter how terrible the year was, we had something to look forward to. Always. The friendships I've come to make through camp, like ones with Shelby and Amanda and Jenni and Maggie, were like nothing I've ever experienced. Communication wasn't important for once in a world when it's all we think about. All that matters is knowing we have something in common, and we're all good people. And knowing that, every summer we'd have the time of our lives. The most fun that could ever be had was had.So this morning before I got on the bus I had some extra time.
I went on the computer, checked my MySpace and Facebook. I was thinking about camp this morning, and for no particular reason, Jenni. I decided to see what she's been up to and viewed her MySpace page. I read under her heroes her brother passed away on October 14th. Cancer. That's the first thing I thought of. Turns out, he HAD died from cancer. I couldn't believe it. As a young child Jenni had been touched by it too. She, unlike her late brother Matthew, was obviously a survivor. I had heard this story too many times. I immediately texted my friend from camp Amanda. She was very surprised (as I was too) I didn't know. So I asked her about what happened and her text that filled me in on how it had all went down so suddenly was received to my phone when I was on the bus. I looked out the window after reading it just taking the details that I'm not going to share with you in, not even thinking how to respond to something like that yet. A beam of light hit my eyes directly as the bus driver turned a corner.
The light had hit me so suddenly, and was so bright. Why did the bus driver had to go this way, turn down that side street? Because he had a plan. His goal was to pick up as many students attending Williamsville South High School as he had to and drop them off at the school. God had aslo had a plan. He had a plan for Matthew when he took him on that October morning. But he also had a plan for my Godfather when he beat a hard battle with Leukemia. He had a plan for Amanda's (the girl I was texting) father when he took his life last spring, leaving a family fatherless. Who would take them to those Sabers' Games? Who would now give Amanda all of her advice? She didn't know those answers, but God knew he needed Mr. Preston somewhere else. I responded to the text: Amanda, we have to do something. I can't watch another friend suffer from a great loss from cancer. And the truth was I couldn't. There HAD to be something I could do. When my older sister Elizabeth was in elementary school she had Leukemia. I watched her get all her hair cut off when I was 5 years old. I will never forget sitting on my sister's bed, with my mom, while my sisters backside was facing us as she looked out her window. I was 8 this time. My mom looked at me and pointed to the back of Elizabeth's head. There, was the beginning of a bald spot. I looked at my mom and frowned. I will never forget was happened next. I saw the look of pain in my Mother's face as tears began to roll down her cheek. She noticed I was still looking at her, and wiped her face and smiled at me. "She's going to be okay. Your Biffers a fighter." My "Biff" was a fighter, and for the second time she beat the odds. She was a survivor. So why was it that Elizabeth lived while Matthew didn't? My godfather, Mike, who is also a dad, also beat it when Mr. Preston did not? Who would walk Amanda down the isle?If I ever knew where my place in the world was it was at that moment, when the light hit my eyes. I'm not exactly a born-again-Christian but I knew it had to of been god. I needed to tell people, get their help. None of my school friends knew how cancer can tear a family apart, how quickly it will make you lose hope, and how much pain one human being can go through. Rather it's been your sister that has had leukemia, your grandma who beat colon cancer, your aunt who died from breast cancer, your Nanny who passed from cancer, or your father who died from a brain tumor, we have ALL been affected by cancer. But for me, it just so happens I know way too many examples of being affected. If you weren't affected before reading this, which is very rare, you are now that you know me, my friends, and my family's sad stories.
We can make a difference. Next time you have the opportunity, DONATE! A few dollars can go a long way. If your interested in volunteering at my summer camp just ask me. Even if you don't know me, I don't care. Camp Good Days will change your life forever. As for me, I decided that when I'm older my occupation will have something to do with cancer. Rather it be a scientist doing research, a writer writing articles to get people aware, a social worker at Rosewell, or even something for Camp, it's what I have to do.If you didn't read all that, at least read this: Post a comment on how cancer has affected your life. What's your story? We're only kids, but so was Carly. Ever heard of Carly's Club? She and my sister were treated at Rosewell at the same time. She was such a nice girl with so many hopes and dreams. The difference? Elizabeth walked out of the hospital, while Carly was carried.Another story of mine worth reading:My sister missed just about her whole 4th grade year because she was being treated, and she was very sick.
My mom hired her a tutor. She came to our house many times a week and was just about the nicest lady you'd ever met. She had a son and a daughter a few years older than my sister and I. My family became very close with Mrs. Rouldoph, the tutor, and her family. She was a really good tutor and thanks to her my sister didn't have to be held back. It was almost a miracle. What was a bigger miracle was that year my sister also overcame her cancer, something the doctors told my mom was likely to not ever happen. My sister went to middle school the next year, and we still stayed in touch with the Rouldophs'. That year, the first year of Elizabeth being in middle school, Mrs. Rouldoph was diagnosed with the same type of cancer Liz had almost died of.Leukeumia again. We were there for her and her family every step of the way. Unfortunetly that wasn't enough for her life. She passed away. I believe her funeral was the first I've ever been to. After that, we sorta lossed touch with the Rouldoph's. Last thursday, I was sitting eating my cereal when I heard my mom say oh my god. Then she ran into the kitchen and dropped the newspaper in the counter. She looked at me and told me she just read about Mrs. Rouldoph's son. He was attending college where a week ago he'd hung himself. Why? I didn't want to know. How could he do that when he watched his own mother fight so very hard for her life? I was disgusted and distraught. Now, all that are left of the Rouldophs' are the father and the daughter.
This blog is dedicated to everyone in the world who has been affected by cancer.
- Kat
WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
waiting to hear you whisper in the wind.
This past month has been surreal. It still hasn't hit me that he isn't with us anymore. I'm still waiting to see him walk through the door or listen to one of his goofy messages. It doesn't seem right and it doesnt seem fair that someone, anyone, could go through this. Why him? Why anyone? Why cancer?
Here is some music worth listening to:
- Lighthouse by Hope
- Wine Red by The Hushdown
- Comatose by Skillet
- Count on my Love by Liz Phair
- Iris by Goo Goo Dolls
A book VERY worth reading:
- Twilight by Stephanie Meyer
Here is some music worth listening to:
- Lighthouse by Hope
- Wine Red by The Hushdown
- Comatose by Skillet
- Count on my Love by Liz Phair
- Iris by Goo Goo Dolls
A book VERY worth reading:
- Twilight by Stephanie Meyer
what do we wait for when a miracle isn't enough?
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