Inadequate words

Tori died yesterday.

Her body just couldn't do it anymore. When it became obvious that there was no hope, they cut back on her sedation in the hopes that she would regain some consciousness. Apparently, she did wake up enough for Missy to tell her what she could.

I don't know what to say now. It feels like I should say something about how she faced the last 8 months with incredible strength, which she did, and how sorry I am for Missy's loss. It all sounds so inadequate.

Here's something: The Children's Hospital has a Courage Bead program. Essentially, every time a kid going through cancer treatment has a procedure, or experiences a milestone of some sort, they get a bead to add to their string. Different color and types of beads signify different things. So, for example, every time she got poked she got a black bead to add to her string. When she lost her hair she got a brown bead. When she got her bone marrow transplant she got to pick out a special, big, glass bead (she chose one with a tree on it). She got glow-in-the-dark beads for her each of her radiation treatments. You get the picture. When I was there for her birthday, her strand of beads was over 19 feet long.

Her favorite bands were Green Day and My Chemical Romance. She had a huge crush on Johnny Depp. She wanted to get a tattoo of a heart on the inside of both of her wrists. One facing out and one facing in - for the love she'd received and the love she'd given. I'm so sad she never got to do it.

My concern is for Missy now. I can only begin to understand the depth of her grief. We asked her to come and stay with us for as long as she'd like. I hope she does.