Help Kelli's Family Fulfill Her Dream for Them!
Donation protected
Beloved, inspiring, amazing, fierce, profound, generous, loving Kelli Kukura has a plan. A "love journey" for her family to grieve and heal together after she has passed; taking her ashes to places that are sacred and hold special memories for them and places they have always wanted to go.
On February 3, Kelli told us this via Facebook:
After 6 + years of metastatic breast cancer, 16 different chemos, tons of radiation and surgeries, my body has decided it has had enough. So glad I didn’t have to decide..
So just two goals now: 1. Grace and 2. Calm.
I truly could not ask for things to be going any better than they are. God’s got me.
All is well with my soul. Any extra hugs for my sweet and amazing family right now would be my only request. I am overwhelmed with their blessings.
Love and hugs.
Together they will be able to laugh and cry, and celebrate the blessings of being loved by the incomparable Kelli. Her wish is that John, Katelin and Cole feel uplifted when they are most in need.
Kelli and John have a love for the ages! Another of Kelli's Facebook posts:
Pocket Notes
February 8, 2021
————-
I’ve been thinking a lot about marriage lately. About what it is. And what it’s not.
I wonder some days if I am just now figuring out what it is. Embarassed to say, I am.
My husband and I started dating when I was 15. Married at 23. And we worked a lot.
We had a lot of fun in the early years....on the weekends. And we worked a lot.
And then we couldn’t have a baby. And we worked a lot.
And then we finally did. Our only, they said. And I worked a lot. And then we took care of and buried my dad. Really my husband did that, while I worked.
And, a true miracle then! A second baby. Oh how we loved our babies! There was no time for marriage really. And I worked a lot.
And then cancer. And a lot of surgeries. And chemo. And my damaged body. And I forgot about marriage. We were survivors.
And I worked a lot.
And then so much love and fun and love and fun and love and fun. Because it was us and the kids. And how long did we have really anyway?
And I think we went on some trips—the two of us—and I know he loved me. And I worked a lot.
And some days we would have surely left. Either of us. Because we were angry. Or tired. Or bored. Or had forgotten. Or just couldn’t care any more. I forgot to work on marriage most days. And I didn’t have much to give. We were loving on the kids. And fighting cancer. And I was trying not to look in the mirror.
And working.
And then more cancer. The Stage 4 kind. More survival. Even more working. More trying not to look in the mirror.
And here we are. The kids grown. And my body is failing. And my left foot is so swollen. It hurts like hell.
And I look down.
And there he is rubbing it and just looking out the window.
And I think, “What the hell?’ Why are you still here?’
There is no reason on earth we should still be together. Except we are. Thank you, God.
And so I have learned what marriage is, after all this time.
It is to stay.
When you should run, you stay. When you are angry, you stay. On the days you hate, you still stay. And on the boring days, there you are.
But I will tell you there is not a more broken, perfect marriage than ours right now. If you ever find broken and perfect, hold on for all your might. Because, at the end of your bed one afternoon, you too may finally see the sacred meaning of marriage after so many years.
And the discovery will be so worth it.
Kelli did not ask us to do this. She's an introvert by nature and believes others are more deserving. We disagree!
Kelli's shining love for Katelin and Cole is ever-present!
More words of wisdom from Kelli:
Pocket Notes
February 10, 2021
—————
Sometimes these last few days, my girl comes and lays beside me for a few minutes at night.
After I have put the oxygen on, and tucked in, and taken the meds. And considered whether there will be sleep.
I don’t look so good. The oxygen is noisy. I can’t imagine what it must take to step through the door and flop herself on the bed.
And just lay there looking at the ceiling with me. Quiet.
She knows more than I did at 23.
I won’t try to explain why she’s here. A thousand reasons. But she is. And it is beyond sacred to me.
I wish I could put words to how much her simple presence means.
The last few years have been hard. I wrote in my calendar, ‘She is doing what you raised her to do.’ I had to read that a hundred times a day. She was. And it hurt like hell. She has become an adult. She has made hard choices and seen who she wanted to be. And who she does not. What values and characteristics made sense for her life.....and which didn’t.
And wow, she is impressive.
She’s here for a little while with me. Because she can do ‘hard’. She has been through a lot for 23. But there is just no hiding anywhere.
She is good stock.
I see her standing beside me, both of us face forward, with my mom, my grandmas, my sister, my sister-in-laws, my best friend. Wow, what strong women.
And I will step forward.
I have no doubt she will stand strong. Maybe they will hold her for a minute.
But she is fierce.
For now, I wish I could tell her that, in these brief days, the very curve of her hair brings me joy. I look over. The sunlight hits her eyes. It takes my breath.
We are doing nothing. She’s baking ‘stress-bread’’, and cookies, and some dinners. And there’s Netflix.
We talk about the plants.
I take into my hands every word, hold it, treasure it, tuck it away in my heart. I know she can’t know at 23. But, I know. At 56. I pray that God will send little memory packages back to her when she most needs them. Packages that tell her how amazing she is. That say how much it means for her to not turn away from me, but to face reality here every day. To hold my cup and my phone, so I can manage to stand. It is getting harder. She is right here.
Today may be a big day. My girl may drive my mom and me to Dairy Queen for blizzards. That’s all. And that is all I will accomplish today. It is a lot. It will be so much more than enough.
Because my girl is here. Standing knee deep in it with me.
We hope this page gives you some small sense of the phenomenal Kelli Kukura! Your donation will be used by her family to take this journey of incredible devotion and love.
Help make Kelli’s plan take flight and soar, just as we know Kelli will be soaring above us all. Please honor Kelli with a contribution.
Update on Valentine's Day, 2021:
As we shared earlier, Kelli was reluctant to be public about her plan and let people support her. This is her response on Facebook:
Pocket Notes
February 12, 2021
————
I have a confession to make.
I had no idea what I was doing when I decided to jot down my thoughts in these little Pocket Notes.
I had a lot of love I needed to pour out, and not sure where to start pouring.
I just hoped these would pop up as memories for John and the kids.
But then you all started responding with so much love and support. Aak.
It is about to break me.
No kidding.
I am super uncomfortable with the compliments. You can look up all the personality types. And I fit into that category that always breaks into a rash when someone says something nice.
And yet, I love you. Each and every one of you. Your comments have wrapped my soul in so much happy.
But I need to tell you. And I need you to believe me!
I am so unworthy of your praise.
I am a big ball of struggle. Aren’t you?!
It will make it sound ‘worse’ if I tell you my faith and belief are getting me through. Because then you will say, ‘Aww, look how faithful and strong she is.’
No. Really, no.
I struggle every day. I am sad and angry and hurt. I want to see my son with his bride. I want to help my girl pick a wedding dress. I want to hold a grand baby. So badly.
I want to take trips with my sweet husband. We had plans!
I want to hang out with my family and my friends. My best friend and I have plans to go see Joanna Gaines at Magnolia’s. I mean, come on!
I want to go to Charleston again...and eat hot little biscuits, and lay on the beach for a week, and have a barbecue, and hike a mountain, and take my boy to Switzerland, where he has wanted to go his whole life.
I even miss meaningful work—the kind where you had to think and use strategy.
All of that.
Last night, a sweet friend said to me, “It’s not a question of worthy. It’s about letting in the love.”
What?
Oh. That changes things. Maybe it’s ok for me to be uncomfortable. Because it seems to be more about love than me. How arrogant.
God gives me enough strength, patience, kindness, faith, grace and calm only for the next moment. I do not hold all of that in me. I sure wish I did. I have to reach for it, through the Bible, or prayer, or music, or yelling at God (yep)— usually thinking it just might not be there. But it always is. In that moment. And then in the next.
But I do not hold it in me. I cry hard and ugly in between the moments sometimes. I am not an inspiration, or strong, or any of those other beautiful, loving things you sweet friends say.
I am a holder of a mustard seed.
That is all.
On February 3, Kelli told us this via Facebook:
After 6 + years of metastatic breast cancer, 16 different chemos, tons of radiation and surgeries, my body has decided it has had enough. So glad I didn’t have to decide..
So just two goals now: 1. Grace and 2. Calm.
I truly could not ask for things to be going any better than they are. God’s got me.
All is well with my soul. Any extra hugs for my sweet and amazing family right now would be my only request. I am overwhelmed with their blessings.
Love and hugs.
Together they will be able to laugh and cry, and celebrate the blessings of being loved by the incomparable Kelli. Her wish is that John, Katelin and Cole feel uplifted when they are most in need.
Kelli and John have a love for the ages! Another of Kelli's Facebook posts:
Pocket Notes
February 8, 2021
————-
I’ve been thinking a lot about marriage lately. About what it is. And what it’s not.
I wonder some days if I am just now figuring out what it is. Embarassed to say, I am.
My husband and I started dating when I was 15. Married at 23. And we worked a lot.
We had a lot of fun in the early years....on the weekends. And we worked a lot.
And then we couldn’t have a baby. And we worked a lot.
And then we finally did. Our only, they said. And I worked a lot. And then we took care of and buried my dad. Really my husband did that, while I worked.
And, a true miracle then! A second baby. Oh how we loved our babies! There was no time for marriage really. And I worked a lot.
And then cancer. And a lot of surgeries. And chemo. And my damaged body. And I forgot about marriage. We were survivors.
And I worked a lot.
And then so much love and fun and love and fun and love and fun. Because it was us and the kids. And how long did we have really anyway?
And I think we went on some trips—the two of us—and I know he loved me. And I worked a lot.
And some days we would have surely left. Either of us. Because we were angry. Or tired. Or bored. Or had forgotten. Or just couldn’t care any more. I forgot to work on marriage most days. And I didn’t have much to give. We were loving on the kids. And fighting cancer. And I was trying not to look in the mirror.
And working.
And then more cancer. The Stage 4 kind. More survival. Even more working. More trying not to look in the mirror.
And here we are. The kids grown. And my body is failing. And my left foot is so swollen. It hurts like hell.
And I look down.
And there he is rubbing it and just looking out the window.
And I think, “What the hell?’ Why are you still here?’
There is no reason on earth we should still be together. Except we are. Thank you, God.
And so I have learned what marriage is, after all this time.
It is to stay.
When you should run, you stay. When you are angry, you stay. On the days you hate, you still stay. And on the boring days, there you are.
But I will tell you there is not a more broken, perfect marriage than ours right now. If you ever find broken and perfect, hold on for all your might. Because, at the end of your bed one afternoon, you too may finally see the sacred meaning of marriage after so many years.
And the discovery will be so worth it.
Kelli did not ask us to do this. She's an introvert by nature and believes others are more deserving. We disagree!
Kelli's shining love for Katelin and Cole is ever-present!
More words of wisdom from Kelli:
Pocket Notes
February 10, 2021
—————
Sometimes these last few days, my girl comes and lays beside me for a few minutes at night.
After I have put the oxygen on, and tucked in, and taken the meds. And considered whether there will be sleep.
I don’t look so good. The oxygen is noisy. I can’t imagine what it must take to step through the door and flop herself on the bed.
And just lay there looking at the ceiling with me. Quiet.
She knows more than I did at 23.
I won’t try to explain why she’s here. A thousand reasons. But she is. And it is beyond sacred to me.
I wish I could put words to how much her simple presence means.
The last few years have been hard. I wrote in my calendar, ‘She is doing what you raised her to do.’ I had to read that a hundred times a day. She was. And it hurt like hell. She has become an adult. She has made hard choices and seen who she wanted to be. And who she does not. What values and characteristics made sense for her life.....and which didn’t.
And wow, she is impressive.
She’s here for a little while with me. Because she can do ‘hard’. She has been through a lot for 23. But there is just no hiding anywhere.
She is good stock.
I see her standing beside me, both of us face forward, with my mom, my grandmas, my sister, my sister-in-laws, my best friend. Wow, what strong women.
And I will step forward.
I have no doubt she will stand strong. Maybe they will hold her for a minute.
But she is fierce.
For now, I wish I could tell her that, in these brief days, the very curve of her hair brings me joy. I look over. The sunlight hits her eyes. It takes my breath.
We are doing nothing. She’s baking ‘stress-bread’’, and cookies, and some dinners. And there’s Netflix.
We talk about the plants.
I take into my hands every word, hold it, treasure it, tuck it away in my heart. I know she can’t know at 23. But, I know. At 56. I pray that God will send little memory packages back to her when she most needs them. Packages that tell her how amazing she is. That say how much it means for her to not turn away from me, but to face reality here every day. To hold my cup and my phone, so I can manage to stand. It is getting harder. She is right here.
Today may be a big day. My girl may drive my mom and me to Dairy Queen for blizzards. That’s all. And that is all I will accomplish today. It is a lot. It will be so much more than enough.
Because my girl is here. Standing knee deep in it with me.
We hope this page gives you some small sense of the phenomenal Kelli Kukura! Your donation will be used by her family to take this journey of incredible devotion and love.
Help make Kelli’s plan take flight and soar, just as we know Kelli will be soaring above us all. Please honor Kelli with a contribution.
Update on Valentine's Day, 2021:
As we shared earlier, Kelli was reluctant to be public about her plan and let people support her. This is her response on Facebook:
Pocket Notes
February 12, 2021
————
I have a confession to make.
I had no idea what I was doing when I decided to jot down my thoughts in these little Pocket Notes.
I had a lot of love I needed to pour out, and not sure where to start pouring.
I just hoped these would pop up as memories for John and the kids.
But then you all started responding with so much love and support. Aak.
It is about to break me.
No kidding.
I am super uncomfortable with the compliments. You can look up all the personality types. And I fit into that category that always breaks into a rash when someone says something nice.
And yet, I love you. Each and every one of you. Your comments have wrapped my soul in so much happy.
But I need to tell you. And I need you to believe me!
I am so unworthy of your praise.
I am a big ball of struggle. Aren’t you?!
It will make it sound ‘worse’ if I tell you my faith and belief are getting me through. Because then you will say, ‘Aww, look how faithful and strong she is.’
No. Really, no.
I struggle every day. I am sad and angry and hurt. I want to see my son with his bride. I want to help my girl pick a wedding dress. I want to hold a grand baby. So badly.
I want to take trips with my sweet husband. We had plans!
I want to hang out with my family and my friends. My best friend and I have plans to go see Joanna Gaines at Magnolia’s. I mean, come on!
I want to go to Charleston again...and eat hot little biscuits, and lay on the beach for a week, and have a barbecue, and hike a mountain, and take my boy to Switzerland, where he has wanted to go his whole life.
I even miss meaningful work—the kind where you had to think and use strategy.
All of that.
Last night, a sweet friend said to me, “It’s not a question of worthy. It’s about letting in the love.”
What?
Oh. That changes things. Maybe it’s ok for me to be uncomfortable. Because it seems to be more about love than me. How arrogant.
God gives me enough strength, patience, kindness, faith, grace and calm only for the next moment. I do not hold all of that in me. I sure wish I did. I have to reach for it, through the Bible, or prayer, or music, or yelling at God (yep)— usually thinking it just might not be there. But it always is. In that moment. And then in the next.
But I do not hold it in me. I cry hard and ugly in between the moments sometimes. I am not an inspiration, or strong, or any of those other beautiful, loving things you sweet friends say.
I am a holder of a mustard seed.
That is all.
Organizer and beneficiary
Theresa Korst Kostrzewa
Organizer
Raleigh, NC
John Kukura
Beneficiary
