Last Saturday we held our 11th annual KAT-Walk & Karo-5k. For the first time in 11 years, we had weather. Granted it could have been much worse. The remnants of a hurricane came through the weekend before. We were lucky to only have some brief showers, clouds, and wind.
I think the gray, damp, cloudy weather reminded me of the reasons the walk was originally started. Dave’s niece Kim died of a ruptured brain aneurysm at 32 years old and her close friends and relatives started the KAT-Walk in her memory. It was named after Kim using the initials of her name: K for Kimberly A for Ann and T for Tudor. Her loss was felt so deeply by so many people and it weighs heavy on their hearts on this day.
My heart also bears the loss of my sister Dori on this day, who we lost to a ruptured brain aneurysm in 2012. I was very close to Dori and I miss her every day. I miss her laugh, her smile, and her joy for life.
Each year, our group continues to reach more and more families who have been touched by brain aneurysms. Their voices and pain join our choir as we come together and sing as one community in raising awareness and comforting one another.
It’s those stories that Dave and I add to our memory banks and emotional cache. The loss, the struggles, the victories, and the heart-wrenching tragedies are now apart of our own. What started as an event to honor the memory of our sweet, dear Kim and a place for each of us to project our grief, has now turned into a community gathering place from around the country.
As we celebrate and congratulate those who have survived, myself included, the lives of those left behind and their struggles to live life without those loved ones have also become our concern. Grief has no time table. There is no right or wrong way to deal with grief. You will be fine one day then out of the blue, in a location that has no connection to your love one, you can be overcome with emotions as strong as the day you lost them.
A ruptured brain aneurysm can strike at any time, any place, any age, any race, and both men and women. Often times there is no planning. No plan of action to avoid it or a way to prepare. Which is why we do what we do…if you’re lucky enough to have symptoms a brain aneurysm can be fixed. A life could be saved. A family could avoid going through heart-breaking loss or years of caring for one who survived, but with serious disabilities.
Today we participated in the Nolan’s H.E.R.O. Foundation 5th Annual 5K Run & 3.13K Walk in Pittsfield, Maine. Nolan Berthelette died from a ruptured brain aneurysm at only 14 years old. A heart-breaking and devastating loss for his parents Ray & Amy, his siblings, and the community. Parents losing their children is always difficult, but one so full of life and with so much more life left to live is especially painful.
I have attended four of their five events for Nolan, but for some reason today I was feeing Nolan with us. I can’t explain why. I just felt him there and he was saying he’s “Okay”.
It’s so hard for those of us left behind to continue life without those we love. Literally picking up the pieces. Finding our new “normal”. Reinventing family traditions. Finding ways to move forward and live without feeling guilty when we’re having fun without them.
Each year at our KAT-Walk & Karo-5k, I feel Dori & Kim. Some years more than others, but I know they’re there walking with me. One year we had a spectacular rainbow greeting us. One year, I had a butterfly traveling along side me while I walked the trail.
For those people like me, who have not only lost a loved one to a brain aneurysm, but also survived one as well, it’s a double-edged sword. I certainly know I had survivor’s guilt. Why did I survive and Kim and Dori did not? Kim who was so young at 32-years old and still had a long life of milestones yet to reach and Dori, who would not see her 15 year old son reach his 16th birthday. Why them and not me? There is no answer to that question. God may have had other plans for me, but I’m certainly not happy about it.
So, for two weekends in September…those left behind are continuing to struggle with loss and heart-ache, but we’re trying our best to move forward and honor those we have lost in a constructive and meaningful way. We remember. We feel. We DO something and try to honor them by hoping to save others.
I think they would all be proud of us…those left behind to carry on.