Afternoons in my house are normally noisy. All video games and bickering and homework. But not today. Today, my mercurial daughter left the school building fighting back sobs, my normally relentlessly cheerful son had tears in his eyes. They, for the first time, have lost one of their own.
A girl known as KatieLyn passed into the Summerlands early this morning after losing her fight with influenza. She was 11 years old. She loved music, and dragons, and books about fairies. My daughter knew this because she spent many rainy recesses reading to her.
KatieLyn was special. She didn’t speak with words. She didn’t run, and play, and bicker with other children. She had a special chair with wheels that adults would move around. My daughter loved her.
It’s hard to explain to a child that children also die. They are not immune to the ravages of nature. But we sit. And sip cocoa. And talk about the pain in our hearts. We speak of how she is free of the cage her body had become, and how her soul is resting until ready for the next life. That she will always be with us as long as we hold her in our heart.
Tomorrow is the Full Moon. We will light a candle for her, to help guide her way. We’ll sing “She’ll be coming round the mountain”, and celebrate the strength that was KatieLyn. She will be remembered. She is loved.