One day, at a very early age, Katie was born into the Caterpillar family. Her life started as most young caterpillars do. She was wide-eyed and completely innocent. There was no awareness of good or evil; those things would have to wait. She had her whole life to learn of such things. Right then the world about her was so big, wonderful and full of fun. It was all hers to explore and enjoy. Little did she know that a tragic event would take place, and that event would give her life a direction and purpose while on this earth. This is a story of self-preservation and survival until the day this young caterpillar emerged from her cocoon to find that a metamorphosis had taken place.

I am 22-years-old and my life is utterly hopeless. The days run into each other, and I can hardly get myself out of bed in the morning. I call in sick at work a lot and sit home alone in my studio apartment moping and thinking about the end of my future. I am consumed with death and feel like the only time I’m actually doing something constructive is when I’m thinking of ways to kill myself.

The realities of grief hit at the most unexpected moments.

Many years ago when my stepfather died, I watched my mother go through the different stages of grief. I yearned to help her through it as she seemed so fragile, but I knew it was something she would have to deal with on her own terms. Over time, I believed she was doing quite well until the day I found her sitting in the floor cradling a beach ball and crying her heart out. Her grief overwhelmed her but I couldn’t understand the connection with the beach ball.

Our grandson died Thursday, the 25th of February, 1982, upon returning from kindergarten at the Immanuel Lutheran School in Waterloo, Iowa. Ryan got off his school bus, walked a block on the sidewalk and began crossing the street in front of another stopped, off-loading school bus.