Callie Rose Foundation

Callie Rose Foundation The Callie Rose Foundation honors the life of Callie Rose Durant by finding ways to help others. Thr She is missed greatly.

Carolyn "Callie" Rose Durant was a beautiful, sweet, and funny little girl who suddenly passed away at the age of 14 months from an unknown virus. In her short time here with us she filled our home with peace, kindness and love. We hope through the Callie Rose Foundation that we can continue to spread that good will to the lives of others so that her spirit may live on.

12 years since Callie died. Some years the words pour out of me like tears that I think will never stop. This year, I ha...
09/03/2025

12 years since Callie died. Some years the words pour out of me like tears that I think will never stop. This year, I have no words. Just the quiet of memories never made. A sacred space of remembrance. So to honor her, I’ll share the beautiful blooms Callie’s tree gave us this year. A beautiful reminder of hope.

Merry Christmas from the Callie Rose Foundation🎄 Wishing everyone peace and love this holiday season ❤️
12/25/2024

Merry Christmas from the Callie Rose Foundation🎄 Wishing everyone peace and love this holiday season ❤️

Year 11 since we lost Callie. People often wonder if it gets easier. It’s a question that is difficult to answer because...
09/02/2024

Year 11 since we lost Callie. People often wonder if it gets easier. It’s a question that is difficult to answer because on the face of it, for most of us, the day to day does get “easier” or at least manageable, of course.

Eventually, you crawl out of bed. You go back to work. You cry less often. You get through the first anniversary and then the second. In a blur, you pass a decade and somehow you made it. But the truth is there is always a piece of you that remains there. In that moment. Grieving your child.

In the beginning, you try to convince yourself you have to get up and “move on” as they say. Eventually, you realize that is an impossible task and you have to leave a piece of yourself there. Holding her. Because you can’t move forward if it means letting her go. So you allow a piece of you to stay with her. Honoring her. Speaking her into existence. While the rest of you - for most of us - continues on with the business of living.

So it doesn’t get easier so much as you adjust to moving through your days with that profound loss. Your body compensates for the loss. Your coping skills learn to adapt. Your ways of doing things change. You have an increased ability to compartmentalize pain but also an increased ability to empathize with others’ pain. You learn to live for all the little moments because you know how quickly they can be gone.

I don’t get to see Callie’s smile anymore, but I do get to see her in moments like her beautiful tree giving us 3 gorgeous blooms this year. I will never see Callie and her little sister play together, but I spent a gorgeous sunny afternoon with Mia painting the path stones for Callie’s Garden and talking about how sweet and funny she was and what she would have loved. I will never see Seth forced to take sides in a fight between his younger twin sisters, but I can see that growing up with Callie’s loss has developed his empathy and how quick he is to stand up for others and to bring comfort to those suffering.

One of the biggest heartbreaks has been not seeing Emily grow up with her twin sister, but I do get to watch Emily develop her own connection with Callie. Wearing pink and roses to honor her and keep her close. How she feels Callie is her guardian angel and has received her own signs from the universe that she is around, like when Emily found the angel Callie bear on our way to visit her sister’s grave.

This year I also had the most tender, unexpected experience with Emily when she looked back and read my raw emotional words about Callie that I’ve posted over the years. She showed me so much grace and compassion, acknowledging how painful it must be not just for her but for me as well.

All of these moments are gifts that we get because Callie lived. So though it won’t ever really get easier, our strength and capacity for empathy and love grows so that we can carry on knowing that our relationship with Callie didn’t end when she died. We can go forward because we will find her presence in so many moments and she will always be weaved into the fabric of our family.

-Tracey Durant

Callie has been gone for 10 years today. The dreaded decade milestone. Each year that passes my heart aches a little mor...
09/02/2023

Callie has been gone for 10 years today. The dreaded decade milestone. Each year that passes my heart aches a little more because it feels like I am getting farther away from her, like I’m worried she will get left behind.

For me though, she is always present. In family photos, I imagine her standing next to Emily, almost the polar opposite of her twin. I take her picture with me on family trips. Whenever I go to a family function, I wear a necklace with her name nestled in birth order next to her siblings. For me, she is always right with us. It is important to hold that space for her to grow along with us and to give us the space to love her by both remembering her and imagining who she would be.

For me though, there is also the ever present “mom guilt” of always worrying you aren’t giving equal time to each of your kids. I still worry Callie doesn’t get enough of my time, my attention. I worry she doesn’t get the love her sweet spirit deserves. With the demands of the three that are still with me, along with a job and house, there never seems enough time to give her. But this year, my guilt doesn’t sit quite as heavy.

There were some little signs this year, like the one pink bloom on our Callie tree, that made me feel like she’s around and she knows the time will come for her. As her brother and sisters get older and don’t need me so much, I can spend more time with her, honoring her and all the gifts she’s brought into our lives. When the time is right and my heart is strong enough, I will help her light shine as a reminder that love and kindness are the gifts we give to each other to help us get through the darkness.

You are never far from our thoughts, my sweet Callie girl. You bring light to all my days. 🩷

- Tracey

Sometimes the universe can send a sign at the most perfect time that even the most cynical among us can’t help but feel ...
05/14/2023

Sometimes the universe can send a sign at the most perfect time that even the most cynical among us can’t help but feel is meant just for them. Seven years ago, an old childhood friend sent me a gift card with a note to get something for Callie’s garden. It appeared on a particularly difficult day and I remember it feeling like a little sign from the universe to keep going.

With that gift, I chose to get an Eastern Redbud tree that is supposed to bloom pink flowers in the Spring before turning to green heart shaped leaves in the summer. I’ve shared about this little tree before and how it survived through several winters, but didn’t get much taller and didn’t bloom pink flowers. Every summer, though, the heart leaves came back giving me hope that it would make it.

Then it took a turn for the worse. Not all the branches grew leaves anymore. It appeared to have something growing on the bark that was killing it. It looked like it wasn’t going to make it after all. Until, as I shared two years ago, I noticed that the original trunk had split in two. The trunk that had stopped growing was wrapped around a now thriving trunk, supporting it. This beautifully entwined “twin trunk” felt like a sign and it gave me hope that the little tree really might survive.

Going out to the Callie garden this Spring, I wasn’t expecting much. I was just hoping that the tree had made it through another winter. But there it was. After seven years, this one single perfect burst of pink flowers appeared and it felt like a message just for me. A little sign from the universe not to give up hope that beautiful things will come, even if they take more time than I want to bloom.

To anyone looking for a sign not to give up hope, I wish you a Mother’s Day filled with signs that there are beautiful things to come.

- Tracey Durant

Yesterday was the first day of school for our kids. In the morning rush to get the “back to school pics”, our 7-year-old...
09/03/2022

Yesterday was the first day of school for our kids. In the morning rush to get the “back to school pics”, our 7-year-old insisted I make a sign for Callie, too.

It’s unexpected moments like that where the pain takes your breath away. Then mixes with a confused blend of happiness and relief that our 7-year-old, who never even got to meet Callie, instinctively thought to include her sister in a family moment. Still blows me away that Callie’s “little” sister is 7.

Somehow today marks 9 years since Callie died. It’s been a hard one. Every year, new memories come back for me, but with all the craziness in the world the past few years, I worry she will be forgotten by everyone else. I worry that I am letting her down.

Then moments like these remind me that honoring her isn’t only about the big gestures - those will come when the time is right again - sometimes it’s just making sure she has a place in our family during an ordinary rushed first day back to school morning. You are loved, missed, and remembered always, Callie Rose. ❤️

Today it has been 8 years since Callie died. 5 years ago, I planted this eastern redbud tree in Callie’s garden. It has ...
09/02/2021

Today it has been 8 years since Callie died. 5 years ago, I planted this eastern redbud tree in Callie’s garden. It has beautiful heart-shaped leaves and is supposed to bud a gorgeous pink in the spring. The tree didn’t grow for 5 seasons. Each year, when it didn’t flower in spring, I was sure that it was gone, but when summer rolled around, those heart-shaped leaves would appear again, giving me hope.

Last year, it looked particularly rough and I was so sad we were going to lose it, but then this year, I noticed it looked stronger. Maybe even a little taller. And when I got close to it, I saw that the original trunk had stopped growing and a new one had taken over, but the original trunk stayed there to support the new one. I typically am not one to find signs everywhere – though I have seen some that are hard to deny – but looking at this old damaged trunk supporting this vibrant, lively one. It just seemed like there was a message in there somewhere. That sometimes the life we expected to take shape is interrupted and sometimes that may leave us stuck for a while. But maybe that time is all part of the process. That time to be still, to regroup is exactly what we need to let us mourn what was. To let the broken parts heal so that they can guide a new life and give it a chance to grow.

This has been a strange year. I expected by now life would have mostly returned to normal and that the Callie Rose Foundation would be actively delivering Care Kits and planning the viewing event for the cell phone chargers. For much of the world, life has mostly returned to normal. For many – for the health care workers for certain - the world never really stopped. It just got harder. But for us, our world stopped. We went into total lockdown for the entire year. After we and our 13 year old son got vaccinated and things were looking good at the end of June, I ventured out just a little. And then the Delta Variant.

After watching as the coronavirus once again took over the country, this time attacking more children than before, we made the very difficult decision just two days ago to pull our still unvax’d daughters out of public school until they are eligible. Today would have been their first day back at school after 18 months. They were excited. I was excited for them. I hated having to make that decision. I so wanted to just send our girls back along with all the other parents, anxious of course but trusting that they will return safely. Unfortunately, after you’ve had one of your children not return safely, you no longer can convince your heart to trust they will.

A year ago, we honored Callie by keeping our family home and safe from the virus. Now, today, a year later, we continue to honor her by doing our best to keep our family safe. We are pulling our family close knowing that whether our experience of losing Callie has made us overly cautious or just more willing to sacrifice almost anything to keep us from going through that again, it changed our family forever. But it didn’t break us. It brought us closer. It showed us how connected we are. How much we need each other. How much we can rely on each other. How blessed we are that when we need comfort, spending time together feels the most comforting.

Our ability to spend this whole pandemic together as a family is an incredible gift. One that most families have not had. One that we have been so fortunate to have to help protect not only our health but also our hearts, given how much fear and anxiety and resurfaced trauma this pandemic has brought up. So today, I am going to stop second-guessing whether keeping the girls in virtual school will make them fall further behind or how disappointed they are to miss out on even more time with friends and remember that whatever they may be missing, they are also gaining the security of knowing the love and support of family will always be there for them when times get hard.

I have a lot of dreams for the Callie Rose Foundation that have come into clearer focus this year. I’ve had time to heal a little more and regroup and hopefully get the courage to forge a new path knowing I can lean on the strength the broken parts have given me. I hope you all will be there to support us when we reemerge stronger and more determined. Today, though, today we celebrate Callie and all the light she has brought into our lives. I can’t believe you’ve been gone 8 years! We miss you, beautiful girl.

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. This whole pandemic business, it’s too much. Right before we went into quaranti...
09/02/2020

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. This whole pandemic business, it’s too much. Right before we went into quarantine, we at CRF were filling tote bags for our next drop and planning a big event to announce that with your generous donations we achieved our goal of getting universal cell phone charging stations in each of the 7 PICU rooms, as well as the waiting room! At first, I held off posting an update, thinking we’d be back to planning in a few weeks. Well, a few weeks turned to a few months and then a few more months. And now here we are, nearly 6 months later. Time has felt so strange.

Today, though, today is the anniversary of Callie’s death. Seven years. Seven. I couldn’t let today pass without writing something to mark the day. This past year her twin sister has been talking about her more and more. Wondering what she would have been like. What it would be like to have a twin. Grieving the loss of that connection. At the same time, her 5-year-old little sister has been expressing how sad she is that she never got to meet Callie and keeps asking for a picture of her and Callie together. And her 12-year-old brother is maturing and starting to feel the depth of the loss in a whole new way, bringing up more questions for him. I try to answer the questions as best I can and play pretend by imagining who she would have been. Try to pretend it doesn’t make me sad as much as I love getting the chance to talk about Callie. And I do love talking about her. Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder who she would be. The ache though, sometimes it’s too much.

I don’t want to write much about my feelings, though, because right now millions of people are suffering much worse than I am with this pandemic. My family has been extraordinarily lucky to be able to work remotely and maintain our jobs, without having to leave our house even for groceries. In six months, I’ve only left our home once for a funeral of a close family member who passed (not from COVID-19). Many might say that is overly-cautious, paranoid, “living in fear”. Maybe it is. But all I know is that I don’t have the luxury of feeling like “what are the chances that super rare thing will happen to my family?” because that super rare thing took the life of my child. My perfectly healthy 1-year-old died from complications from a virus and we weren’t even in a pandemic. It nearly broke us and sometimes I still wonder if it did.

What I do know, though, is that if someone told me that if I stayed in my cozy house with my family and pretty much every creature comfort one could want for 6 months to a year or maybe even longer. That if I just did that, I would get to see Callie grow up. I would do it in an instant. So, while I know staying home is no guarantee. There are still accidents and other illnesses that we are vulnerable to, still somehow, I feel as if I am honoring Callie by doing everything in my power to stop a virus from stealing another one of our family members.

So, I guess, that is how we honor Callie this year. We hunker down in our cozy homes with those we love and we count our blessings that we have this time together. Hug your loved ones for Callie and stay safe. – Tracey Durant, Director

Riley's School of Dance chose The Callie Rose Foundation as one of the organizations to benefit from the donations for t...
01/09/2020

Riley's School of Dance chose The Callie Rose Foundation as one of the organizations to benefit from the donations for their Christmas Show! We cannot thank them enough for their generosity.

It continues to amaze us just how many people have been touched by Callie's story and have volunteered their time and given donations to assist us in our efforts to provide comfort and support to the Baystate Children's Hospital families. Callie's light shines on because of you all!

Merry Christmas from the Callie Rose Foundation! 🎄❤️
12/25/2019

Merry Christmas from the Callie Rose Foundation! 🎄❤️

Wishing you all a peaceful Thanksgiving filled with the warmth and love of family and friends. ❤️
11/27/2019

Wishing you all a peaceful Thanksgiving filled with the warmth and love of family and friends. ❤️

The countdown is here... throughout the course of this week, and into the December holidays, families around the world will be gathered to celebrate.

While many in society experience the holidays as joyful albeit stressful, there are few more painful and stressful times of year for those who are grieving. I felt really frustrated when others pressed me, early in grief especially, to feel thankful, even though I could (momentarily) still feel morsels of thankfulness. But when your most beloved one dies, it's pretty hard to 'give thanks' for much...

People have asked me how I cope with special occasions through the years since my daughter's death in 1994.

In my two decades of being bereaved, working with countless bereaved families and researching the bereaved, I've discovered some ways to cope and connect us deeply with self, other, and the natural world during what can be a very overwhelming time of year:

1. Sharing your feelings openly and honestly with others directly may help them to understand. Sometimes, the process of discussing the loved one who died before the gathering begins can relieve the tension others may feel wondering, “Should I talk about this or not?” If you can, be clear about how you feel: "Can we please have a moment of silence for Jacob before we eat?" or something like that.

2. Rituals are often very helpful, especially new ones. Rituals are ways that we *remember* them, and remembering them, while painful, is so very important for our broken hearts.

A few ideas, for example, include lighting a candle and having a moment of silence at the beginning of the holiday meal or playing a specific song, asking family members to make a donation to a specific charity in his/her name, setting an empty place at the table for him/her and asking each person to tell their favorite memory, volunteering as a family in his/ her memory, buying a gift for a child the same age and donating it, and a craft-making project where family and friends make an ornament in his/her memory. This not only gives others permission to share their feelings but also brings people together by enacting grief.

3. Connection with a support group in your area can be very helpful. Empirical research suggests that social support is one of the most important variables in helping grievers cope. There are many grief groups that meet in person and online. Even social media can be used to help connect grievers to one another. (Grieving parents and grandparents and siblings can search for support near you at www.MISSFoundation.org and we have more than 20 online support groups there too called the "Forums".)

4. Get out into nature if weather permits. Take a walk, hike, or just sit outside. If that’s not possible, then bring nature inside. Create an indoor window garden or a Zen sand garden. When possible, expose yourself to natural sunlight at least a 10 minutes each day.

5. Move your body. Exercise, yoga, stretching, or even just walking can help increase our capacity to cope with fluctuations in our emotional states.

6. Practice intentional solitude using contemplative prayer, silent time, or meditation. Take a few minutes every morning and evening to breathe slowly and deeply, eyes lightly closed. Focus on the stillness if you can. Keep this practice going. Even 5 minutes a day can help.

7. Change your routine. From the small things, like changing the music you play when putting up the tree, changing the meal you eat for a holiday, or leaving town for a vacation at the holidays, novelty can help us cope with the holidays. Since everything has changed, its okay to change traditions.

8. If you are spending time with others during the holidays, tell them in advance of your fragility. Let them know that you may leave early (it’s nothing personal toward them), ask them if there is a quiet spot in the house where you can go to be alone if you need it, and tell them the ways in which you’d like them to discuss- or not to discuss- your feelings openly with others.

9. Give others explicit permission to talk about your precious loved one who died. Sometimes, fear gets in the way of others approaching the bereaved. You can write a letter delineating what you would like. For example,

“Dear friends, At this time of year, we are struggling without our daughter, Jane, in our home. We know it is frightening but we’d like to ask you to talk about her with us and to ask how we are really doing. We’d like you to remember her in your prayers, and then tell us when you do. We’d like you to consider a donation to X charity in her name. Please send us emails rather than calling us. We find phone calls to be overwhelming right now. We’d appreciate help with meals during the week of Christmas. If you are able to leave a meal at the door, we’d appreciate it. Our friend, Mary, will be coordinating that for us. Please contact her at ###-###X. Finally, we love to receive cards so please keep them coming. We love hearing your favorite memories of Jane. Thank you. We are grateful for your support, and will need it for many years to come.”

10. Finally, give yourself permission to take care of you and your family first. It is okay to turn down invitations to events, to cut back on holiday celebrations and décor, and to ask for help with child family members who may also be grieving. Eat nourishing food, drink water, get enough rest when you can, and watch alcohol/drug consumption. Stress, naturally, distracts us from self-care, so you’ll need to be more vigilant during this time of year.

Finally, cry if you want/need. The suppression of tears has never been useful for me. In fact, I oft felt sick when I chronically avoided or pressed down on my tears. I finally surrendered to what I termed 'marathon' sessions of grieving. They generally lasted about 15-20 mins, I might fall asleep from exhaustion, but I always felt a relief of weight after I let go of my tears.

There is no question that, for many, grief and the sense of isolation and loneliness amplifies during holidays.

Some of these ideas may help us cope and remain more self-aware, self-compassionate, and feeling more connected to those around us who love us, to our precious one who died, and to a deeper and wounded part of our self. Together, and connected, we can get through these dark days.

Meanwhile, I hold pause for each and every broken heart reading this. I may never know you and your beloved who died, but through my silent moments, I consider the suffering hearts in the world and I send my love and shared grief.

It is the one thing that unites us, after all, as beings around the world: To love, to lose, and to grieve.

Dr. Joanne Cacciatore (c) 2009 originally printed on my blog

www.JoanneCacciatore.com
www.certification.missfoundation.org

For the last year, I have been volunteering at Baystate Children’s Hospital to help improve patients’ experiences. Recen...
11/22/2019

For the last year, I have been volunteering at Baystate Children’s Hospital to help improve patients’ experiences. Recently, I’ve seen how much sharing Callie’s story and our experience can help doctors learn how to best care for bereaved parents. It’s helped me get braver and gain the courage to share more and more.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of being a panelist at a Bereavement Forum for resident doctors at Baystate. It was the biggest group by far that I’ve ever spoken to about Callie. I was able to share all the wonderful things the medical staff did to help her last days with us be as special as possible. How much it meant to me when the resident caring for her held my hand and cried with me. How precious all the time was that I was given to cuddle with her before we had to say goodbye. How peaceful her passing was while she was held in our arms. I will be forever grateful for all the kindness and compassion the medical staff showed.

I also was able to share things that could have gone better and ways they could improve their care for other families.

I was touched to see the compassion in the doctors’ faces, some even with tears. I have been very humbled by the hospital staff’s eagerness to learn from the our stories, as difficult as they are to listen to. They truly want to learn how to provide the best care for their patients and families, not just medically, but emotionally, as well.

It has been one of my great joys along this grief journey to be able to share Callie’s story to help others. She may have only been on this earth for 14 months, but her sweet spirit continues to put more love and goodness out in the world. Thank you to all you supporters of the Callie Rose Foundation who continue to provide the encouragement I need to continue to spread Callie’s light. I am eternally grateful.

— Tracey, Founder & Director, and Callie’s Mom

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PO Box 153
Easthampton, MA
01027

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