Tomorrow is the day Kaitlyn’s father and I make the drive to Winston-Salem to take all Kaitlyn’s things out of her apartment. Other than seeing her lying in that casket, it’s going to be the hardest thing I will ever do. I could have someone else do it, but it’s something I need to do. Her spirit is all through her apartment that she so lovingly and beautifully decorated. One of the very best days we ever had together was the day we went and she picked out all her furniture; her couch, table, lamps, bedroom furniture, her special things for her kitchen like special spices in a nice rack, her cutlery because she loved to cook. Her dining room table sits with the placemats and napkins in holders ready for the next dinner party that will never be. Her spirit is in all her books, especially the books she studied for her Step 1 medical boards so intensely. Her refrigerator contents reflect the health conscience person that she was, and it is full and I hope to find some goodwill place to give them to. There are pictures on the wall of her many adventures, her trip to Africa to help the poor children there, and some of the important people in her life. In the brief time I could bear to be in her apartment the first day I found out about her death, as I read her goodbye note to her father and I, met the dean and doctor of the Medical School she attended and loved, before I left I grabbed the afghan that was on her couch that I know she cuddled under every night, her cell phone, her pocketbook and billfold where she kept all her cards, license, and the credit card she paid off every month, and a framed picture she kept of me and her that was in her bedroom. I hold these things and feel her soul in them, I hold her afghan where her scent still lingers every day and when I go to bed, where sleep is the only place that hides me from this horror. Last but not least, I have her cat Gatito who she loved so dearly. He is mine now and when I touch him also, I feel her spirit. Goodbye my sweet daughter, my world will never be the same without you, but you are still with me in my heart and everything I do.
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My name is Rhonda. I'm a registered nurse, for the last 20 years, that has not been able to work since the day I learned of my daughter's death by suicide 4-12-13. (She actually died 4-11-13 and her body was not found until the 12th) Me and my husband have been married for 32 years and he's a wonderful man. We grieve in different ways. He works, I write. This is my journey through this horrible land of losing a child..
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