There are moments in life that change everything, dividing time into a “before” and an “after.” Losing Cole was one of those moments. On May 10, 2023, my world shattered. My sweet, vibrant, funny 8-year-old son who overcame more obstacles in his short life than most do in an entire lifetime was suddenly gone. And now, all I have are the memories we made and the endless questions of what could have been.
Losing a child isn’t just about missing who they were it’s grieving the unwritten story of who they would have become. Cole’s future was a book with blank pages, a novel I was meant to read chapter by chapter. But unlike most, his story was already full of triumph, resilience, perseverance, and love. Cole was medically complex, yet he never let that define him. He faced challenges with a strength that left everyone who met him in awe. Though he was nonverbal due to being profound deaf, he was fluent in sign language, speaking volumes with his hands, his expressions, the light in his eyes, and his contagious smile.
He had a way of touching hearts without ever saying a word. His presence was magnetic, his spirit infectious. To know Cole was to be changed by him. He made an impact everywhere he went, teaching people how to see the world through a different lens. A lens of perseverance, perspective, pure appreciation of life, and unconditional love.
And oh, how he loved to travel. New places, new experiences, the adventure of it all Cole embraced every journey with pure excitement. That’s why we started The Cole Kubista Foundation in his honor, providing all-expense-paid vacations to families of medically complex children. Because we know firsthand how precious those memories are, how vital it is for these families to step away from hospitals and appointments, even for a little while, and just live. Creating the one thing that can never be taken away… Memories.
Still, I find myself longing for the chapters that will never be written. I see children his age and wonder who would Cole have become? Would his love for adventure have led him to new heights? Would he have been an advocate, a teacher, a leader in his own way? I will never know, and the ache of that truth is unbearable.
Grief is cruel in how it sneaks into ordinary moments. A child signing with their parent, a boy with the same determined spirit, a place we once visited together, his favorite store, a claw machine, it all brings me back to him. But even in the midst of this heartbreak, I remind myself: Cole was here. He did live. And though his book will never be fully written, his story will never be forgotten.
His legacy lives on not just in the foundation created in his name, but in every life he touched. And as I carry his unwritten story in my heart, I will continue to fill its pages with love, memory, and the unbreakable bond between a mother and her son.