08/09/2026
We are saying goodbye to our Alissa.
She wasn't my daughter by birth or by law. She simply drew me in, captured my heart, and somehow became part of the very fabric of my life.
After tremendous loss, Alissa became the catalyst for a new marriage and a new chapter I never expected. She gave me another person to love, someone to care for, and something to look forward to. Somewhere along the way, loving Alissa stopped being something I did and simply became part of who I was.
And she was a character.
She could be sassy and more than a little spoiled. She could read a room—the good, the bad and the ugly. She knew when we were happy and when something wasn't right. She heard my secrets and knew my heart. She watched movies she loved and endured quite a few she most definitely did not.
And she is beautiful. That beautiful face and complexion, gorgeous hair, naturally perfect nails, and eyebrows women would pay good money for. ❤️
Alissa gave us laughter and joy, but she also taught us commitment, patience and what it means to love another human being simply because they are here and they are ours to love.
Her needs in this world were actually very simple: food, water, oxygen, clothing, shelter—and people willing to care for her.
Recently, Alissa went without the oxygen she needed. Her heart stopped, and although she was brought back to us, the lack of oxygen caused devastating damage to her brain.
And so now we are facing the unimaginable.
Her body is failing, and Tom and I are beside her as she begins her journey home.
We know that sometimes loving someone means being willing to release them when holding on is no longer for them, but for us. Knowing that does not make it easier.
It is so hard to watch.
So hard to release.
So unfair.
And so terribly heartbreaking.
There are questions that may haunt us for a very long time. Was she frightened when she couldn't breathe? Did she wonder why no one came? Was she trying to make a sound when she couldn't call for help? How could anyone fail to see the precious human being who was always so clearly visible to us?
I am angry. I am heartbroken. And I keep asking God to have mercy on me for that anger.
But those are not the thoughts I want surrounding Alissa now.
Right now, she is peaceful.
We are here.
She can look into our eyes, and I believe she knows she isn't alone. She knows we are with her. She knows she is loved.
And when it is time, there are people waiting for her.
Her dad, Abe.
Her mom, Millie.
Her grandma Dorothy.
And a whole host of people who loved her before us and have been waiting far too long to see that beautiful face again.
I picture them anxiously and joyfully waiting to welcome her home.
So, God, please bless my husband, who has shown a depth of love and grace through this that I cannot put into words.
Please have mercy on my broken and angry heart.
And most of all, please be gentle with our Alissa.
Take her hand when we can no longer hold it.
Usher her home.
She wasn't my daughter by birth or by law.
She was simply Alissa.
And she captured my life and my heart.
In the end, perhaps that is all any of us can hope for—to have been truly known, to have mattered deeply to someone, and to have been loved completely.
Alissa was.
She is.
And she always will be. ❤️
