I've decided to start this blog as a way to, hopefully, help with the healing process after the sudden loss of our precious little girl. I plan to post pictures, videos, memories, and quotes in order to quell the emptiness and bring a little hope into our lives.
Kerrigan's Story
Kerrigan Mae Richardson was a beautiful, vibrant, funny, adorable little girl who had an absolute and undeniable love of life! Though it was hard for her at times when she battled chronic asthma, there was no denying how much she enjoyed just being herself. Kerrigan was born on July 25, 2006 and was our first child. When she was born, Brandon was so excited to finally have her in his arms that as soon as they gave Kerrigan to him, he ran out of the room to show her off to our waiting families. I didn't even get to hold her until about 45 minutes later...and after everyone else had gotten the chance. From that moment on, she was a daddy's girl, and I have yet to meet anyone who would challenge that statement.
Kerrigan loved adventure and was always on the go! She was always game for a fishing trip or 4-wheeler ride or a horseback ride around Oma & Opa's corral. She and Daddy had their own secret 4-wheeling spot that not even Mommy knew about. About 2 weeks before Kerrigan passed, Daddy took her on her very own hunting trip. When he kept missing his shots, Kerrigan was right there with the comforting words of "Daddy, you stink!"
While there was no denying how much of a daddy's girl she was, Kerrigan was also Mommy's little princess. She loved to play dress-up (though she was usually a cowgirl when she did), help Mommy in the kitchen, and have "girls' night," which usually consisted of watching cartoons while eating freshly popped popcorn after preschool while we waited for Daddy to come home. It didn't matter what we did...everyday, Kerrigan made sure we had "girls' night."
She also loved to have dates with her grandparents. She would call Oma or Opa up on the phone and inform them that she was coming over to have a date with them. When we arrived at their house, she'd shove Mommy & Daddy out, and then proceed to claim either Opa or Oma for her very own until we returned. Nobody else was allowed on her dates. One of the funniest times was when she shoved Opa out of the bedroom where she and Oma were watching cartoons, and exclaimed, "Get out, Opa! This is a Kerrigan and Oma date!" She then proceeded to slam the door after him.
The same concept existed with Grandma & Grandpa. She had her own bedroom at their house and would, one by one, allow members of the family in for their own special Kerrigan time. If someone tried to crash the party, they were met with a slammed door in their face. It was during this time that everyone had a title. "My Sha," "My Grandma," "My Grandpa," "My Doo-Doo..." so forth and so on.
One of the things Kerrigan was best known for were her Kerrigan-isms. Here's a few examples of her little quips of wisdom:
"Mommy, you shouldn't eat puppies. Puppies taste like yucky!"
"I use my body to dance and I make music with my bum!
"Mommy, I want to go to Wal-Mart and get a new Daddy."
"You can't eat Kerrigans. They're an endangered species."
“What does Opa eat? Opa eats cookies. What does Mommy eat? Mommy eats chocolate. What does Daddy eat? Daddy eats steak. What do bears eat? Bears eat Daddy.”
“K-E-R-R-I-G-A-N…Mommy, no I-G-A! I-G-A is yucky!” (FYI: IGA is the competitor to Grandpa's grocery store)
Kerrigan loved to learn and attended two different preschools. She absolutely adored the Children's Resource Center where she had attended two years. She had most recently begun attending the preschool at the college where Mommy and Daddy take classes, but had only been going for about 2 months. Every morning when I would pick her up, I would ask her, "What did you do in school today?" to which she would quickly reply, "I didn't hit anybody today." Needless to say, I always had to rephrase my question to "What did you learn in school today?"
One of the things Kerrigan wasn't was a foodie. She could have cared less for the stuff and was always too busy to be bothered to eat. When she did eat, whatever calories she consumed were quickly burned off by her crazy antics. Perhaps this is why, at four years old, she weighed 27 pounds and was barely over 3 feet tall (that's about the 2nd percentile). Though there were a few foods she did enjoy, her absolute favorites were strawberry milk, air-popped popcorn, McDonald's french fries, Ramen noodles, and vegetables. If you could make her a big bowl full of frozen vegetables, she'd love you forever! She never would touch meat, but give her any sort of vegetable and she'd inhale it!
Perhaps the biggest news in Kerrigan's short life was when she learned that she was going to be a big sister. From the get-go she told us that she was getting a baby brother, and nothing swayed that declaration. Lo and behold, she was right! We told her that her baby brother's name was Jasper, and she became very defensive of that name. When her Uncle Dusty told her that he was going to call her little brother "Spur," she informed me that "You can't call him Spur...or Doody Head." We took her to big sister classes at the hospital, and she went to all my doctor's appointments. She was so excited to see the baby on the tv screen, but not so much to hear the heartbeat, which scared her! She knew how to help Mommy by getting diapers and couldn't wait until she could give the new baby a bottle.
Unfortunately, she never got that chance. On Thanksgiving Day, (November 25, 2010), at the age of 4 years and 4 months, and two weeks before her baby brother was born, Kerrigan passed away. She had a bit of a rough night the night before, not being able to sleep and constantly calling for Daddy. She told him that there were ghosts in her closet (we'd had monsters in there before, but never ghosts). Thankfully, Daddy got up with her once and was able to tell her that he loved her, and I got up with her at 5:00 to tell her to go back to sleep, and I was able to tell her that I loved her as well. That was the last time anyone saw her alive. As we were getting ready to head to Oma & Opa's house for Thanksgiving dinner, we were letting her sleep in because she wasn't up at 7:00 on the dot like usual, so we figured she'd had a bad night and needed the rest. When 9:30 rolled around and she still wasn't up, I went into her room to wake her up. I found her face-down in her pillow, and I knew the second that I looked at her face that she was gone. Brandon and I rushed to the hospital, making it in a record 30 seconds. When we reached the ER, they called a Code Blue and whisked her away. It was an agonizing 20 minute wait, though it seemed closer to two hours. When they finally had to break the news to us, our world shattered. I know I was in shock because I couldn't believe it...it seemed just like a bad dream and I kept expecting to wake up from a nightmare. But that relief didn't come. Our families rushed to the ER to be with us and to offer comfort as we cradled her in our arms for the last time. She had never seemed so tiny yet such a big girl as when I held her in my arms in that room. We all said our goodbyes before the funeral director took her away.
Driving home was a blur. I remember my brother-in-law drove our car for us...Brandon sat in the front seat and I sat in the back next to her empty car seat. Reality still hadn't hit me or else I would have been hysterical looking at the seat without an owner. When we arrived at the house, the police were there to question us and to search her room. To think that my house was considered a crime scene was baffeling. How could anyone think we did anything to harm our beautiful daughter? Our house had always been a place of love and laughter...and they were searching her bedroom behind a closed door. They took her pillow, her pillowcase, her nebulizer, her medicines, her sippy cup and her strawberry milk powder as evidence. But the hardest thing to grasp during that time was when the chief detective told us that there was a mandatory autopsy required for children under a certain age, and that included my daughter. I simply couldn't comprehend it...not my daughter! Not my beautiful blonde angel.
Brandon and I went to Billings the next day and spent the night while we figured out funeral arrangements. We felt we needed to go to the temple and requested special permission from the temple president to go directly to the celestial room. He granted us our request, and I cannot explain the depth of peace that it brought to us. I could close my eyes and see pink and purple lights...and I knew that she was there. I knew that she was still with us and that she would never leave!
Each day that passes brings new pains and feelings of loneliness, but I try to remind myself that with each passing day, I'm brought one step closer to an eternity with my daughter. I would like to say that it's comforting to know that she's safe and happy with our Heavenly Father, but I would be lying to myself. Granted, I know that it's where she belongs and I'm happy that she doesn't have to endure the earthly pains and temptations that plague our world every day, but I can't help but wish that she was still here on Earth with us. I know it's a selfish thought, but no mother should have to bury their child. No parent should have to visit an unmarked, cold mound of dirt to be near their child. No child should have to grow up looking at pictures of a sister they never got to meet, and no family should ever have to be divided. Because of this, I'd like to end my first post with a poem called "The Broken Chain."
It broke our hearts to lose you,
You left us peaceful memories,
Our family chain is broken,
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