I am just going along about my day.. getting home from the park trying to rush in to clean off the kids sandy feet and put Charlotte down for nap.. But since I am right there I figure I can get the mail.

Its like suddenly being splashed in the face with cold water. The shock and the charge of it rushing through my body. I am disoriented .. I am struggling to catch my breath and I am frozen in place. The sting of it bringing sharp tears to my eyes.

Just for a moment. . though I have to get inside and take care of my 3 living.. I feel like I am carrying my limping heart in my hands along with a diaper bag and a handful of mail. The irony.

A day of remembrance for children that were also patients like my Jennifer at Lucille Packard. She died..
A card from the kids dentist. Addressed just to her. She lived.


I find myself looking at it constantly throughout the day. Running my hands over her typewritten name. And right now.. alone looking at it again I remember how she suffered so much in the end.. But I also remember how she lived.

A normal little girl. With a pediatrician and a dentist. She loved digging in the dirt looking for worms she would then run away from. She loved painting and trying on all of the shoes in the house at some point during the day. She loved getting a piece of mail addresses just to her. I think it made her feel special and important.. official. It elicits all those same emotions in my right now.

Holding her muddy shovel proudly.
Holding her muddy shovel proudly.

The kids would gather all around her as she opened it up.. clawing at her to see what it was. She would at first hide it from them.. But after a moment she would read it to them.. because now she would be in first grade .. she would be reading.

Not exactly the painting I gave permission for.. little brother always right there.
Not exactly the painting I gave permission for.. little brother always right there.

I remember when she was part of a sticker club.. how much she looked forward to getting that little piece of mail. And when she was finally tall enough to reach all the way into the mailbox all by herself. It was her job.. I warned her it wouldn’t always be.. one day she would have to share. She never did though. Its been  passed onto Jonathan full time.

How I long to hear them fighting over whose turn it is to get the mail..

I have looked at it countless times today. Her name in black and white lettering. Simple typing.

Jennifer Kranz

It steals my breath every time.

She died. but…

She lived.

what a life it was baby girl

vibrant. exciting. normal. dramatic.

delicious. silly. outloud.





…until there is a cure..


11 Responses to “mail”

  1. Oh Libby. I love you all so very much. I think about Jennifer everyday. Everyday. She has become oart of my heart. Forever and always. You all have. ♡

  2. she did! She lived fabulously with you all! man, I can’t imagine the shock. it probably won’t be the last, but it is so hard.

    You were such a blessing for Jennifer. Thank you for being there for her. thank you for showing us what a wonderful parent you are. Hugs to you and the kids and Tony.

  3. Sending love. Know there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t look at my first grader, and all she is and will be, and think of Jennifer.

  4. She lived! That is what is most important. She lived and loved and was so very loved. Even better, she lives on in Heaven.

  5. Oh yes jennifer lived and we are all here to prove that with you by listening and seeing all the beautiful pictures and memories you give us to prove what a beautiful and loving little girl Jennifer is not was because she lives on through you. Always in my

  6. That was a tough one, Libby. Why is it the simplest things rock us the most? I’m sick to my stomach as it hits me hard…she didn’t just die…she lived. She lived beautifully.

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