2 Months Without Cassidy
It’s been two months since Cassidy died and somehow it still doesn’t feel real.
I still look for him in every room I walk into. I still start sentences like he’s sitting next to me. And I’m still learning how grief can be sadness and laughter and anger all at the same time.
Last weekend was the first time I stepped back into the real world for myself since December. I went to TaylorFest wrapped in what honestly felt like friendship-bubble wrap, and it reminded me that parts of me are still here too.
I also didn’t realize until recently how much I had already started grieving him long before he died.
I wrote about what these last two months have actually been like.
One Month Later
One of the hardest things about this month has been learning how to talk about Cassidy in the past tense. He was my person. He is my person. And I’m still trying to understand how both of those things can be true at the same time.
The Post I Never Wanted to Make
I never imagined I’d be asking for help like this. Insurance is covering the bare minimum. Cassidy’s care needs are bigger than what they’ll approve. I’m physically breaking trying to hold everything together — and loving him is bigger than my pride. We’re still fighting. But we need support to keep going. I shared everything — the hard numbers, the hard decisions, the real need. If you can donate or share, it means more than you know.
Goodbye Houston, Hello Denver
We celebrated our anniversary in an infusion chair.
The weeks since have stretched us in ways I didn’t know were possible — physically, emotionally, spiritually. Loving someone through this isn’t soft or poetic. It’s lifting, changing diapers, making impossible decisions, and learning how to accept help you don’t even know how to ask for.
Houston: Night 1
The 24 hours before we arrived in Houston were some of the scariest we’ve had yet. A routine lab turned into an emergency, a flight changed overnight, and by the end of the day Cassidy was being admitted to the ICU at MD Anderson Cancer Center. This is how we got here—and why it mattered.
Birthday Trip Recap: Two Points of View, One Post.
For Cassidy’s birthday, we took a trip to Los Angeles that was equal parts magical, emotional, and unforgettable. From Star Wars lightsabers and Disney snacks, to Shohei Ohtani bobbleheads and historic stadium tours, we each experienced this trip in our own way. Cassidy wrote about the joy of Star Wars, baseball, and finding normalcy in the middle of chemo. I wrote about the love, the laughter, and the heaviness that sometimes snuck in when I least expected it. Together, these posts tell the same story—one birthday trip, two hearts, two perspectives. 💙⚾✨
The Changes of Survival
Cassidy shares an honest update from round 9 of chemo—75% through treatment and learning that survival means something new. From Boy Scout campfires to backyard nights with Leah, he reflects on what it means to trust science, hold on to hope, and look forward to what’s next.
Chemo’s Still Here, But So Is Joy
Gratitude has been showing up in unexpected ways—like being able to sit with Cassidy during chemo, starting little routines just for myself, and even planning a birthday trip around his favorite thing: baseball. ⚾💙 This week I’m writing about the small joys and quiet mercies that remind us we’re still living in the middle of all this.