Dear Evangeline,

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was remember. Then my mind was washed over with a sensation of fear. I woke up at home for the first time  in a while, but when I tried to get out of bed and realized that I couldn’t, it did something to me that I wouldn’t have predicted; something strange. And it had something to do with you. I was afraid for you, Eva.

We’re all always reading about how cancer patients or the critically ill are going to “win” their battle because they are “strong,” because they are “fighters.” Or, if they pass away, we are mamaevakisstold that they “lost” their battle. But you know what, Eva? That’s a bunch of bullsh&t. Sometimes the strongest among us are the ones that are taken the quickest. Sometimes, Eva, it’s the most innocent, or the most virtuous; the youngest or the oldest. Or the ones that fought the hardest. Illness does not discriminate. And our fates are not always dictated by our fight.

I’ve been fighting a battle for a long time now, darling. But when you came into the world, it added an entirely new dimension to my war. It added fear. For me. For you. For dada. Every turn for the worse, every incapacitation, each day I am forced to be away from you, is filled with so. much. more. fear. But despite what some will tell you, fear is not a symptom of weakness, but instead an ingredient for strength. It is this thing called fear, Eva, that makes my battle so much more meaningful. It is fear that makes me fight so much harder.

But there is something you must know. If someday, my fight doesn’t prove to be enough, this doesn’t mean I have lost. It doesn’t mean I was weak. And it doesn’t mean my love for you didn’t course deep enough through my veins. All it means is that life has taken its course. It’s a road that isn’t always fair, often rocky, and inevitably insurmountable. We are all going to eventually meet that peak that we can’t reach, but that never means that we have lost. It merely means that we have reached our inevitable end.

Our fates are not in our control, but how deeply we love and how hard we fight are vehicles of life, and we are behind those wheels. Ever since you appeared in my back seat, driving has become a whole lot scarier. And every time I crash, I fear mostly for you. But, don’t worry, darling, your mama is going to continue down that road for as long as she can. And you’re lucky, because she drives like a girl. Which means she’s going to be behind that wheel with more skill and more fight than anyone out there.

I know it’s hard right now, baby girl. But mommy has to find her way out of the Rockies on her own, before we can cruise down that tree-lined country road together, once again.

Hang in There,

Mama Pearce




  1. Thayer
    July 2, 2014 at 2:03 pm

    Katie, this is a tear jerker and so beautifully written. Thank you. I wont forget this one. Continue to cruise.

  2. Carolyn Singer
    July 3, 2014 at 12:35 am

    Indeed, drive like a girl! My money’s on you, kid.

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