Strength

October 5, 2004, was the day Kelly-Anne was removed from life support after being fatally attacked two days earlier. In those two days, Kell's family and friends came to grips with the tragedy and said their goodbyes. We cried. We prayed. We sobbed. We yelled. We wept. We sat in stunned silence. We screamed.

I think we experienced just about every emotion in those couple of days. It seemed shockingly cruel that Kell was gone. On October 5, her mother and father made the decision to take her off the machines that were, technically, keeping her alive despite being brain dead. How could any mother and father have to be faced with making such a terrible decision? It is truly the worst nightmare a parent could ever face.

Doreen and John, and their surviving daughter Kim, have soldiered on bravely in Kell's absence. They've taken a situation that would break most people and tried to do the best they could. They planned Kell's funeral, they buried her, and they've spent every day since trying to make sure that she's not forgotten. They've done a wonderful job in the face of such overwhelming sadness.

And they've succeeded wonderfully--because Kelly-Anne has not been forgotten, and her legacy lives on in all of us.

I'm proud to know and love John, Doreen, and Kim. I'm grateful that I've had them in my life since my earliest childhood. And I'm lucky that I've had the chance to play a small part in helping keep their beautiful daughter's memory alive.

PS--Don't forget to head over to Doreen's blog and read her reflection on what Kelly-Anne's death has taught her.