Happy Hellos and Some Gloomy Goodbyes

We made it. Our annual trip to Siesta Key felt impossible this year with everything going on—doctor visits, scheduling treatments, just the endless weight of it all. But Kara was determined to get to the beach and see her Florida family. She told all her doctors about the trip, and when we visited Mayo, the doctor even wrote in her clinical notes that we should go. So, here we are.

When I’m deep in my feelings, I can’t shake this belief that no one could possibly understand what I’m going through. The love I have for Kara is so immense, so unique. Our relationship is unlike anything else, and I can’t imagine anyone “getting it.”

But then I watch her interact with people. I see the way she brightens their day, the way she effortlessly brings joy to everyone she meets. It’s like watching a little piece of magic unfold. Even people who have only known her for a short time feel her impact. And while they may never know the pain I'm carrying (nor frankly should you), they get to experience her light, her kindness, and her love—and that’s something special.

Kara, as always, is the belle of the beach. You wouldn't believe all the people she knows. We’ve had a week of the happiest hellos, reuniting with our Florida friends who have become like family to us. When we left Mayo Clinic, the first thing Kara said was, “Good news, we get to go to Florida, and Joe is going to make me spaghetti and meatballs!” That drive home from Mayo was hard—I could barely hold back the tsunami of emotions. But I just kept reminding myself that soon we’d be in our happy place, and Kara would be her most joyful self, sitting at Mary and Joe’s table. And she was.

For me, though, this happy place feels heavier now. The sun feels nice and the sound of waves are soothing, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of what’s waiting for us back home. The beach has always been my place to find peace and serenity, however hard I try, I can't get that noise of a ticking clock out of the back of my mind. I’m so tired—mentally, physically, emotionally. Everything feels exhausting. But Kara? She’s thriving. She’s in her element here, soaking up every moment and connecting with all her people. She’s a magnet for good souls, and watching her joy is the one thing keeping me grounded.

We've already had to say “see you later” to Ashlee, our friend from Nebraska. It sucked. She’s been such an incredible support system for all of us and an amazing friend to Kara. They keep in touch every day, and Kara adores her. To mark the occasion, they even swapped loyalties—Ashlee wore a Hawkeye shirt, and Kara sported a Nebraska shirt, even shouting, “Go Big Red!” If you know anything about sports, you’ll understand what a big deal that is.

For every happy hello we’ve had this week, I can’t stop thinking about the gloomy goodbyes ahead. It’s always hard to leave this place, and every year, we tell ourselves the same thing: God willing, we’ll see you back here next year. I’m praying that’s in the cards. I’m imagining Kara yelling at her favorite beach bum, Ray, to set up her umbrella in 2026.