Maureen Time | Kyla Thompson

2 years ago, Taylor, Kyla, Katelyn, Maureen and I were all in Chicago. We had a grand time, watching a Cubs baseball game and a Northwestern football game. We had Chicago style pizza, visited our first apartment, our first house, and the church in which Maureen and I were married. Tomorrow marks the 23rd #powdereddonutday since Maureen’s passing on October 21, 2014, and the 24th since this joyous family weekend. As a family, we’ve decided the true first #powdereddonutday was tomorrow, the day Maureen and I renewed our vows at the altar of St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church, with our children by our sides. Typically, on #powdereddonutday, I share my words, however, today, I share Kyla’s. A little something she wrote in 7th grade. Maureen Time | 7th Grade | November 2014 My mom was born on April 28, 1964, weighed 7 1⁄2 pounds, was 26 in. tall, and was born in Antwerp, Belgium. Upon her passing, my mom was 6 ft. 1 in., had brown eyes, and weighed 147 pounds, having slipped from 160 due to her cancer. She was as tall as a giraffe on good days. 37 years later, after her birth, I was born in Austin, Texas, was 8 pounds 12 oz. My favorite memory of my mom was when she was pregnant with my little sister, Katelyn. She was like an angel from heaven. My parents went in for a check up like every mother would do when they are pregnant, but they got different news. They took a biopsy and told her she had breast cancer. Like anyone with cancer, they said, “lets find the...

My Mom | A Letter From Her Son, Taylor

Mom, We still have so much to talk about. I still have so much to ask you. You still have so much to teach me beyond the love, strength, grace, and compassion you demonstrated every day. I want to go back to the day. October 19th. Two days before your passing. The day we sat together on the couch in the living room as I assembled an essay about things falling apart. With oxygen passing through tubes by your nose, when things were indeed falling apart, you exuded a delicate strength. Your quiet fortitude then and your quiet fortitude now have always and will always hold our family together like the cornerstone in each of your buildings. I wish I could see you one more time. Your tall, striking, poised figure. Your deep, calming brown eyes, eyes that came with a smile that shined not just happiness but a peaceful certitude. I wish I could hold you forever; I wish I never let you go that day on the couch. I know these aren’t just wishes. I know that you will be with me forever as I continue my journey through life. Keep in touch mom. I love you. Sincerely,...

My Mom | Reflections by Her Loving Son, Taylor

“Blessed By Angels Unawares” | Hebrews 13:2 When I was fifteen, I lost my mom to breast cancer. The day was October twenty first, and I was sitting on the left side of the library at the table near the window. As I was confirming my fantasy football lineup, Mrs. Winter, wearing a white cardigan, brown shirt, and white jeans entered through the front doors. She informed me my dad was in the front office. I didn’t think anything of this information or her arrival. However, as I entered, my dad wasn’t the only person there. My aunt, a short, grey-blonde, spitting image of my mom was there as well. Their faces were both blank. My dad broke the silence with two words, “follow me.” He led me to the little hill near the office where the grass fades from green into yellow. He said, “your mom’s sodium levels dropped last night. We don’t have any more time. She is already gone.” I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I started running. I ran to the track and never looked back. Four months later, I was still running. This time I was running a half marathon through the streets of New Orleans in memory of my mom, side by side with my dad. We ran stride for stride with each other for thirteen point one miles. Throughout this ordeal, we both had moments of doubt and fatigue, but when the miles got tough, we thought of the countless chemotherapy sessions my mom endured with a smile. As we ran through the French Market just off Jackson Square where...