The anticipation of waiting nine months for a child is filled with a mix of excitement, anxiety, and joy. I remember vividly Mark, Lexi, and I eagerly preparing for the arrival of Lexi’s little brother. A big sister is an incredible role to take on and at only two years old, she was unbelievably ready and preparing everyday. From discussing boy names, nursery decorations to feeling the first kicks, each moment was filled with anticipation and love as we anxiously awaited our newest addition to The Kubista Family. The impending arrival of our second child, a boy, was poised to complete our family of four, with one girl and one boy, fulfilling our vision of the perfect family dynamic. Little did we know that our dreams of completeness would be shattered, leaving us to navigate the inconceivable loss of our precious son, Cole at the tender age of eight.
Losing a child is an unimaginable pain, a wound that I suspect will never fully heal. It’s a journey no parent should ever have to endure, yet here I am, grappling with the loss of my 8-year-old son, Cole, my hero. Today is February 10th, 2024. Exactly nine months have passed since Cole unexpectedly left this world, leaving behind a void that can never be filled.
Cole was more than just a child; he was a beacon of light, a source of boundless love, and one of my greatest joys. His compassion knew no bounds, and his sense of humor could light up even the darkest of days. But perhaps what I admired most about him was his perseverance. Despite every obstacle unfairly thrown his way, he faced them head-on with courage and determination, inspiring all who knew him. He truly taught me more in eight years than I ever could have taught him. I remember writing on a dry erase board, while he was struggling to stay alive in the NICU, life is not what happens to you but how you deal with it. When I wrote that at the time, it was simply a saying that I had heard, I wanted to remember, and was encouraged to live by. Cole, literally, exemplified what this means. His ability to choose to navigate and cope with the challenges life presented with a smile on his face, compassion in his heart, and always staying positive is simply awe-inspiring.
In the midst of my grief, I attempt to find solace in the memories we shared. From the simple moments of cuddling to the adventures we embarked on together, each memory is etched into my heart forever. I watch over and over again videos of him and all of the absolutely hysterical things he did. It’s a constant reminder that our house, this home, will never be the same. There are moments when laughter and happiness feel like betrayals, casting a shadow of guilt over me as I grieve the absence of my sweet boy. Every second of everyday I think about things he did, things he said, and how his presence completed our family.
Yet, alongside the memories, there’s a heaviness in my heart that never seems to lift. I am broken, shattered into a million pieces by the loss of my precious son. The simplest tasks feel insurmountable at times, and the weight of my grief threatens to consume me.
But still, I press on. Every day is a battle, a struggle to find meaning in a world that feels so empty without him. People on the outside may see a facade of strength, but they have no idea of the turmoil raging inside my heart. I smile through the tears, trying to carry on for the sake of those around me, but the pain is ever-present, a constant reminder of an integral piece of my soul that is missing.
Grief is a journey with no roadmap, filled with unexpected twists and turns. Some days, I find myself lost in a sea of sorrow, drowning in memories of what once was. Other days, I cling to hope, finding solace in the knowledge that my son’s memory lives on in the hearts of those who loved him.
As I navigate this new reality, I am reminded of the resilience of the human mind. I’m constantly amazed by my 11-year-old daughter, Lexi’s, resilience and perseverance in the face of her brother’s death. I’m inspired by my husband’s strength as he channels his energy into a foundation honoring our son, aimed at supporting other medically complex children and their families. These reminders of my “why” give me the strength to face each day, despite the profound grief that weighs heavily on my heart. Despite the pain, I find pockets of strength, moments where I am able to honor my son’s memory by living each day with purpose and love. He may no longer be by my side, but his presence is felt in every beat of my heart.
To anyone else who has experienced the loss of a child, know that you are not alone. I felt so badly, immediately after, that no one else was dealing with what I was and continue dealing with constantly. Everytime I see a family, they seem complete while I feel incomplete. When I see a small boy, I’m sad, broken, and angry that I don’t have my boy. When people talk about their children’s success, I feel so out of place because my son was robbed of his opportunity to continue creating success. I fear others will ask me the dreadful question of how many children do you have. I have an overwhelming amount of pain that shadows me when preparing for the answer. Yes, I have 2 children one boy and one girl. However, technically, I have a death certificate for my son and he doesn’t actually exist. Do I dare say I only have one child in an effort to avoid the painstaking truth and needing to relive the story of him unexpectedly passing away? Do I dare say I have two children and the next common question is asked how old? How do I respond? Technically, he was 8 when he died, but twenty days later he would have turned nine years old. Do I dare say I have one child to avoid any type of explanation? Would I even be able to go on if I denied his existence even one time to a stranger? Five months after Cole’s passing I stumbled upon a foundation that helps other grieving families. Coincidentally, these parents had a son named Cole as well, born the same year as my Cole, and they unexpectedly lost their sweet boy too. It’s a group no parent ever signs up to be a part of. It’s a community you don’t want to have to join, but unfortunately it’s a larger community than you would ever believe and there are so many people hurting after the loss of a loved one. Grief may feel isolating, but there is a community of love and support waiting to embrace you. Together, we can navigate the darkest of days and find light in the memories we hold dear.
Cole may no longer walk beside me, but his spirit and memories continues to guide me each and every day. He will forever be my hero, my inspiration, and the brightest star in my sky. I will forever cherish the sunset and the beautiful orange colors that portray in everyone of them. Cole’s vibrant personality was reflected in his favorite color, orange, which illuminated his world with warmth and energy. We are dedicated to keeping Cole’s memories alive and honoring his legacy by continuing to impact the world in a positive manner, just as he did every day of his life. By channeling our grief into action, we strive to make a meaningful difference in the lives of medically complex children and their families. Ensuring that Cole’s spirit of kindness, resilience, and compassion lives on, inspiring others to create a brighter future for generations to come.
