This beautiful tribute was written by the award-winning columnist Chris Kelly and published in the Scranton Times - Tribune on November 22, 2015. Kate continues to inspire not only those who were part of her story but those of us who were introduced to her later. Published: November 22, 2015 This is a story of love, loss and family bonds that reach beyond blood. It is ghostwritten by a beautiful, boisterous, brave young woman who dies at the end. Her name is Kate. Not was. Is. The vessel that carried her fierce spirit has been returned to the earth, but her life echoes in memory, on the Internet and in photographs that reflect her radiance. That’s her laughing on a swing in her wedding dress. She looks sunny even as night bleeds into her best day. She kicks hard toward a someday she might never see. The casual observer would never know it. Kate knew. She kicked anyway. Scores of people are diagnosed with cancer every day. The courage, humor and hope she brought to the fight set Kate apart. She was a lovely bride, a treasured daughter, sister, aunt and friend. She was also a natural writer. Honest. Unflinching. Vulnerable. Kate laid her heart on the page and inspired others to open themselves in words that must be read to be soundly heard. “By way of introduction, I am 29, engaged to my AMAZING fiance and I am a Neuro-Surgical ICU nurse (NOT a writer, so bear with me),” she wrote in a July 30, 2014, post to shuttingdowndave.com. “The purpose of this blog is to share my experiences, the good the bad and the ugly… and hopefully help another cancer buddy along the way… “If my stupid/silly/mad/happy/insulting thoughts on my road to a CURE can aid anyone, then my goal is reached. So here we go!” Dreams, destinations, Dave Kaitlin Grace Hennemuth was born on April 15, 1985, the third and last child of John and Diane Hennemuth. Diane is known to most as “Dee.” Her grandkids call her “Dee-Dee.” Kate dreamed in a bedroom with pink walls and stacks of dolls. John said Kate was always “a pisser” — precocious, positive and the light of any room she entered. In the living room of the Hennemuths’ Waverly home, John, Dee and Kate’s husband, Kyle Reap, shared stories. It had been a week since they cleaned out the Manhattan apartment Kate and Kyle called home. “When Kate was having good days, everyone had a good day,” Kyle said. Too heartbroken to stay in New York, he left his job as a financial adviser and moved home to Scranton. Kate was the life of the apartment. No more good days were to be had there. Kate shined at Our Lady of Peace School in Clarks Green and Scranton Prep before Penn State, where she opted for a semester abroad in Spain. She moved to New York City. She skydived, ran half-marathons and hiked the Peruvian Andes. Twice, she went to Russia to visit orphans the Hennemuths had hosted for several summers in their home. After a year at American Express, Kate entered NYU’s nursing program and landed a job at NYU Langone Medical Center. She found her calling. She knew it, and so did everyone who knew her. And she had Kyle. They were together nearly nine years and planning a family. They loved the New York Yankees, the New York Giants, the Penn State Nittany Lions and Bruce Springsteen. More than anything or anyone else, they loved each other. It was as wonderful a life as Kate ever dreamed of between pink walls stacked with dolls. Then Dave crashed the party. ‘Shut it down!’ Dave wormed his way into every corner of Kate’s life. His malevolent presence was discovered two weeks after Kate and Kyle announced their engagement. She vowed to evict him, but Dave stubbornly hung around. Kate’s friends and family profanely pushed him away (There is nothing subtle about tweeting “#FUD”). It was a rallying cry for #teamkate, but Dave wouldn’t take the hint, even intravenously. Kate came up with the name. Dave is easier to say than rhabdomyosarcoma, an extremely rare cancer that usually targets children. “Shut down” came from “Bar Rescue,” a favorite TV show of Kate and Kyle. Bar expert John Taffer consults struggling watering holes and offers advice for turning them around. When a bar is unfit to be open, Mr. Taffer shouts, “Shut it down!” Kate’s main doctor at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in Manhattan was Dr. William Tap. Kyle saw a similarity. “Kyle turned to me, wiped away a tear and said ‘Kate, don’t worry. Dr. Tap basically just said in medical terms that he was going to shut it down,’” Kate wrote on Aug. 3, 2014. “I burst out laughing and agreed. And that is what I am doing daily, shutting Dave’s ass down.” Dee was the spine of Kate’s support system. Also a nurse, she knew the score as soon as her baby said, “Stage Four.” At that stage for this cancer, the survival rate for adults is 20 percent to 40 percent. Dee moved in and did what moms do. Rounds of chemo, sickness and blinding headaches knocked Kate down, but she always got up, and she never complained, Dee said. When it was feared she would lose sight in one eye, Kate said, “Well if I lose it at least I have another one.” When she lost her senses of smell and taste, she said, “I can do without them.” And when her hair fell out, Kate characteristically gave thanks for the time she had it. “In the end, my hair lasted for almost four months, through five rounds of chemo and two and a half weeks of radiation,” she wrote. “It stayed with me for two amazing weddings, my bestie’s bang up 30th birthday and buying my own wedding dress. Speaking of the wedding dress, it officially started falling out the day I got my dress. What was such a fun day was sprinkled with a little sadness.” Dee shaved Kate’s head. “I couldn’t let her do it herself,” Dee said. “I loved her hair. It was so beautiful. But honestly, she looked really cute with short hair.” Kyle thought so, too. No matter how sick Kate got, she never let herself go. She always wore makeup and stuck to a rigid organic diet. “She juiced like 13 times a day,” Kyle said. Friends helped with Uber rides and bundles from Whole Foods. The couple never felt alone. “She fought hard,” Kyle said, “but our friends fought with us, and it made her stronger.” Kate became an inspiration to doctors, nurses, family and friends, especially brothers Jake, 39, and Andy, 37. She connected with people who never knew her. Kate never quit and never passed on a treatment that might help. She tried everything, even ascribing to Eastern healing philosophies that encouraged her to reach out to Dave and welcome him as a natural part of her body and convince him to become a member of #teamkate. Dave didn’t budge. Nasty as he was, the bastard had friends. They spread throughout Kate’s body and conspired to bring her down. She was determined to get married, so the wedding date was pushed up. “We need plates anyway,” Kate joked. Local officials expedited the marriage license application. Organizers pulled off the planning in six days. Kaitlyn Grace and Kyle Brian Reap joined hands on Aug. 29 and promised to love, honor and cherish each other in good times and bad, in sickness and in health. On Oct 21, she let go. Echoes are forever Kate was laid to rest on Oct. 26. She died in the end, but took Dave with her. Her final breath was his last gasp. It didn’t happen the way anyone wanted, but Kate shut Dave down. He was. Kate is. The world is a lesser place without Kate, but it’s better, too, because she was here and made the most of the short time she was afforded. While she was dying, Kate taught a master’s class in how to live. An echo reports an immediate expression of energy that commands close notice, but it doesn’t end there. Physicists say energy never dies, which suggests an echo’s testimony continues long after our ears no longer hear it. Echoes are eternal. “I have been shown how amazing and good people can be and I feel so incredibly lucky,” Kate wrote shortly before her death. “I know my family and friends agree… I love you all.” CHRIS KELLY, the Times-Tribune columnist, never met Kate, but he loves her, too Read her blog and posts of family and friends at www.shuttingdowndave.com.

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