Early September has always been a busy time of transition and change. It marks when the summer officially ends, kids go back to school and we adjust all of our routines. The beginning of the second week also marks Sidney’s birthday time. And now that she’s a teenager (!) she pretty much tells me how she wants to celebrate it. But the beginning of this month always feels like hitting speed bumps at too high a speed. Everyone gets jostled around a bit–though mostly that’s just to sort stuff out.
Of course in 2019’s September, we found out from a follow-up MRI that Ken had a brain tumor requiring immediate brain surgery. Even though the pandemic and the post-diagnosis period of care-giving fuzz out a lot of my direct memory of the last few years, the day before we got that news to the next day, I remember so vividly: the stark contrast between our cruising normal to the moment that life would never be the same. It’s interesting the way things sear themselves into one’s consciousness and leave permanent imprints.
Now early September carries a greater weight even if it doesn’t mean to and it amplifies the things that do happen at this time as well. For this 2022 September, the other added element is the Seattle Schools teachers strike (for which the teachers are completely justified in doing) and SPS’s dereliction of duty in negotiating in good faith. It introduces uncertainty where we’d like to have stability. That feeling of being in a holding pattern is all too familiar in this month and it feels like we can’t move forward. There is however, hope that an agreement will happen soon and the kids can springboard from a camp-filled, gorgeous Seattle summer into a functional, optimistic school year where they are in the oldest cohorts at each of their schools.
Another thing that has typically been observed in recent Septembers was the The Run of Hope, one of Ken’s pet projects & favorite charities which raises money for pediatric brain cancer research. Pre-pandemic, it was an in-person 5K run/walk at a major Seattle park but then it became a virtual event. Now it’s back to in-person. However, after giving this some thought, I am not totally comfortable with an in-person event of this type yet. I inquired about doing this virtually but they are not extending that option. Therefore, this year I’ve decided to simply make a donation straight to the event in honor of Ken. If you would like to do the same, please click on the link in the previous sentence to make a donation. Or if you are wanting to participate in the run/walk, the event is on Sunday 9/25 @ Seward Park and you can register here .
In the near future, I am going to be sharing more information about the Kesem Foundation, which is a national organization that supports children affected by a parent’s cancer. This past summer, the kids went to their incredible sleep-away nature camp, run in tandem with the University of WA. It was a highlight for both kids. This awesome camp was provided free of charge so all families like ours can have this positive experience. I look forward to supporting and promoting their crucial work of helping kids process and live with loss.
It was my first article in almost 3 years–since Ken was diagnosed back in September 2019. Surprising no one, this most recent effort has to do with coping with grief and some ideas for any other new widow(er)s who might be struggling to figure out where to start. It’s obviously a lot to suddenly be a solo parent, a person in grief, a household manager and a person rebuilding their own lives & their children’s lives. But it’s not a topic that gets talked about much unless you’re in it. So not talking about it -at all- leaves people who are suddenly faced with loss, without a clue what to do next. Perhaps this will help another widow or widower to avoid having to start from zero. The good news is: there are resources and supports out there, if you know where to find them. Unfortunately, I didn’t even touch on self care so I’m hoping I can do a followup piece on that topic.
A year ago when I was writing Ken’s obituary I was so sure of the words. They flowed forth despite my sleep-deprivation and agonizing grief. In the end, it was exactly what it was supposed to be.
Today though, I am struggling to find the right words to explain what this year has been like. This is a world that has had a Ken-shaped hole in it. Yet, we have carried on as he insisted and as life demanded. We have and continue to integrate his loss into our very beings but exemplify his adventurous spirit and appreciation of wonder.
I definitely see the world in a more heightened way. Colors are sharper, sounds more nuanced and moments more intense. There is no more veneer of limitless time to do everything we want–I know how fragile & ephemeral it all is. But really, after the challenging times of late, I think we all may understand that pretty well now. So living with authenticity and the embrace of what makes life magical seems the best way to honor him, in addition to raising our children with love, grace and patience. As for the children, in them I see the creative sparks of their dad and the glimpses of talents that are uniquely their own. They luckily have many caring people in their lives too who are keeping an eye on them and with me are there to help, listen and support.
Today we did two things that each of the kids suggested. We walked to a nearby greenspace with our neighbors, the Haldimanns, who were/are integral to dealing with this whole journey we’ve been on. We brought donuts and flowers to have some moments to reflect in nature and enjoy one of Ken’s most favorite treats: Bavarian cream donuts. The kids even made a nature-inspired tribute of his name (see photo). It was a lovely, unstructured moment.
Then once back home, the three of us took the small remainder of Ken’s ashes that we held back from last summer’s Oregon Coast tribute and spread them around the fig tree in the backyard. Ken spent many hours fixated on the eternal problem of keeping creatures from eating his figs so perhaps now his constant presence and vigilance will finally bear out.
And later today Calvin has his dance recital that he’s been working towards all year. So this day reminds us that while we take time to observe, remember and sit in our feelings, life continues and there is always time for dancing.
When I think about Ken, his limitless creativity and his expressions of empathy still shine brightest. He was very open & curious–a doer of extraordinary things. Especially when I think about traveling with him, examples of his desire to understand people unlike himself kept popping up. It was so inspirational to be around someone like that.
Contrast that with how he rarely gave much thought to the mundane domestic details like when the roof needed to be de-mossed or volunteering to make dinner or keeping track of how many lightbulbs we had in the storage closet. No, his preoccupations ascended to the ‘higher callings’ of protecting his fig tree, speed solving a 5×5 rubik’s cube or teaching the children Pi to the 100th digit. In retrospect, it’s endearing, but at the time…perhaps a little less so.
In this past year we’ve had sadness but also joy, grieving but also gratitude. I’m humbled at how we’ve arrived here, and while we’re intact, we’re forever changed. As we remember Ken, we send love and gratitude out to everyone who has been on this journey with us as well. ❤️
In March, we took delivery of two beautifully-crafted, handmade quilts that were made from some of Ken’s coolest t-shirts. Maureen Lemon is a local seamstress who teaches in the Little Creations program that Sidney took sewing from a few years back. She did an incredible job with the layout, spacing, color choices, fabric choices and ultimately the construction of these beautiful keepsakes with creative touches that I didn’t even know she was going to do. I wanted these quilts made for the kids so they each have something tangible of their dad’s that they could snuggle up with when they felt like it. In the quilting itself you can see musical notes and stars which adds a really cool touch to unify each quilt with all the various t-shirt patches. Many thanks to Maureen for flawless execution of this idea. ✂️🪡🧵♥️
At the end of 2021, we sent out a holiday card celebrating Ken, featuring some of his more recent, lighter moments. I wanted people to have a memento if they wished and to share a beloved holiday memory with everyone.
I feel his enormous absence constantly AND at the same time, am moving forward with the “empty canvas” that a New Year brings. Learning as much as I have about grief, I understand now that it is never something to ‘get over’ — it’s something to always carry. Some days, I integrate and carry it well. And some days (rarer now as time goes on) it’s everything I can do to handle it. Maybe that’s why grief is so scary, because it seems like it can’t be predicted or contained and would block out the sun from ever reaching us again. But I know on the flip side of grief is love, and grief reveals the meaning and depth of our connection– it’s significance and delicacy. Carrying and remembering that love (and general love of life) is what I’ve come to focus on. How do I/we do better valuing what we have in this present moment? That’s what I’ve been reflecting on as we rebuild and move into 2022.
(We have extra cards so if you’d like one, let me know.)
Some of our amazing members of Team Ken in their ninja sloth bandanas!
Thank you to the TEAM KEN runners & walkers who completed virtual 5Ks (in both rain and shine) around their neighborhoods yesterday. The kids and I walked in Ballard with our neighbors, the Haldimanns, and loved knowing other team members were out and about too.
Huge appreciation to all the donors who contributed over $8,000 for pediatric brain cancer research at Seattle Children’s Hospital! Ken was adamant that something positive come from his experience so he passionately championed this cause in the two years after his own diagnosis. I know he would be proud of this effort and eager to see what innovations the money can help achieve. The overall event is now VERY close to hitting the top goal of $500,000. The annual funds from this and contributions by private donors throughout the year allow the researchers and doctors to make big leaps.
Did you know that Seattle Children’s has the only CAR-T Cell Clinical Trial for Pediatric Brain Cancer in the world? That therapy takes a pediatric brain cancer patient’s own white blood cells and ‘instructs’ them how to attack the very specific cancer that they have. Once re-injected into the patient’s brain, the white blood cells only attack the cancer, not the surrounding healthy cells—like radiation & chemo tend to do. It’s a game-changing approach that is in testing with 35 kids now and, if successful, will be expanded. Our money helps make that happen.
Thanks again to all who participated. We appreciate you!
Here we are in August now. Yesterday was Calvin’s birthday and last week on 7/26 would have been Ken’s 53rd birthday. Time marches on and as we move forward I’ve been thinking a lot about how to make it count. Ken was twice able to combine his love of running with his desire to help kids with brain cancer by leading Team Ken in the Run of Hope 5k.
So we’re going to do it again.
I just signed up Team Ken for the Run of Hope on Sunday, September 26th. I know they are doing a virtual 5k (and *maybe* will do a gathered event, though with Delta variant the prospect of that grows dimmer.) With the kids, I’m definitely staying virtual.
But if you would like to join the virtual team and/or want to encourage others to sign up as a runner/walker or make a donation, that would be great! This was such an important cause to Ken and it is my honor to continue the tradition. Our goal is to raise $7500 as a team. Last year’s team did even better than that so I know we can do it!
The Run of Hope Seattle is a 5k run or walk to raise money and awareness for pediatric brain tumor research at Seattle Children’s Hospital. In recent years, Run of Hope Seattle has become the most successful grassroots fundraising event for Seattle Children’s Guild Association, sending nearly $7 million directly to research for pediatric brain tumor treatments.
A few weeks ago, on what would have been our 16th wedding anniversary, the kids and I (with my immediate family) honored Ken’s request to be humbly returned to the land and sea. We scattered the ashes we were given near Manzanita, our favorite Oregon beach where we’ve been going with Mom & family for the last two decades. The spot was off of a state park trail where an old growth tree had toppled and it’s upturned roots created a giant fern-filled bowl that felt reverent and magical. Calvin said with confidence, “Daddy would like this place.” Mom brought yellow Gerber daisies and we placed them amongst the ferns and ashes as if they had always been there. For the children and me, it was a moment to reflect and carry out the final wishes of the man we knew and love.
Photo by Cindy Hovind
This is the Silent Haven By Robert G. Ingersoll
A thinker of pure thoughts, a speaker of brave words,
a doer of generous deeds has reached the silent haven
that all the dead have reached,
and where the voyage of every life must end; and we,
his friends, who even now are hastening after him,
are met to do the last kind acts that man may do for man—
to tell his virtues and to lay with tenderness and tears his ashes in the sacred place of rest and peace.
Kenneth Moore, or “Kenny” as he was known growing up, left the mortal world behind on May 22, 2021 at his home in Seattle after a valiant 21-month fight with brain cancer. Ken filled his life of 52 years with wonder, adventure, creativity and a compassion for others. A day with Ken was always a day of possibility. One of his secret superpowers was his ability to support and propel others around him into becoming their best selves by being a true collaborator and enthusiastic supporter. He often went above and beyond when working on projects and giving gifts. His wife called it “Ken Moore-ing it up.”
Creativity and wonder radiated throughout his life with his best “works of art” being daughter Sidney, 11 and son, Calvin, 8. While he poured himself into many endeavors, these two lights of his life enjoyed a childhood filled with spontaneous adventures and a dad who could see the world with infinite possibilities. From making epic couch & blanket forts, to planning elaborate scavenger hunts with riddles, to searching for dragonflies in Magnusson Park, to involved bedtime rituals with made-up catch phrases, to teaching them to mix chocolate chip cookie dough with their hands, Ken’s kid-like curiosity and eagerness made time with them magical. But more than anything, he loved them beyond measure and wanted his kids to be compassionate humans who helped others.
Music played a big role in his life. Ken started learning piano at the age of 8, then moved on to drums and guitar. He notably collaborated with childhood friend Billy Mallery in talent shows & experimental works that served them later when he assisted Billy on drums with a musical score for a national commercial that was ultimately used for the final aired version. With college band friends Dave Purnell and Charly Grogan, he emulated their favorite Progressive rock bands like Rush and (early) Genesis and even staged a reunion basement jam in 2012. In recent years, he sought to master the Theremin with virtual lessons from German musician Carolina Eyck. He came by his multi-instrument musicianship in a family of musical and performance talents, most notably his late maternal grandmother Teresa Richardson, whose piano pieces were played by his bedside during his final days. His interest in music, art and computer science combined into many forms. He loved to invent things included wiring up some gloves with lights and hacking a Wii Controller to turn it into a virtual Theremin.
Born in Washington DC, he grew up in Bowie Maryland and later moved to Salisbury Maryland where he spent most of his formative years with his mother, step-father, middle brother and three step-siblings. Renowned for finding high adventure on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, teenaged-Ken planned heist-level train rides with his friends Billy & Frank where they would jump onto moving freight trains while pretending to be “00” agents. After graduating from Bennett High School, he attended Virginia Tech to study computer science and math. During a semester abroad in Finland, he joined a local samba band that performed on a cruise ship sailing between Finland & Russia. After graduating, he traveled around Australia for six months, finding day work at some of the local mango farms. From that point, he always knew how to pick a good mango at the grocery store.
For his career, Ken wanted to combine his love of computers and his love of music and art but he first had to navigate other computer-related jobs in both the DC area and southern California. He finally got an offer at a music education software company which brought him to the Seattle area. His next role as Program Manager at the streaming media company RealNetworks provided him his first foray into visual design. Then after a brief stint as a consultant, Ken joined Adobe to work on their Creative Suite and Photoshop tools. He finally moved on to Google where he stayed for 14 years. He vastly expanded his technical and design skillsets, worked with talented international teams, created a handful of patents and met some incredible colleagues and friends.
Ken held a fondness for the Eastern Shore. He loved running in the hot, humid weather during summer visits, swimming in the warm Atlantic Ocean waters, seeing the fireflies come out at dusk, eating blue crabs on tables covered in newspaper, butter bowls & Old Bay Spice and reconnecting with friends & family. Yet Seattle was where he met and married first wife Kelley (Smith) Moore in 1999 but amicably divorced in 2003. Later he met his current wife and love “accomplice” Kali while working at RealNetworks during a usability study in late 2003. Ken impressed Kali very early in their courtship by making the most elaborate, colorful and immaculate fruit salad anyone has ever seen at a potluck brunch. The attention to detail, element of surprise and level of quality & thoughtfulness exemplified what Ken brought to their relationship. He proposed to her during a 2004 trip to Italy and they married at an Oregon vineyard in 2005.
In 2010, upon moving to his final home in Ballard, Ken was thrilled to discover the crown jewel of the backyard was a 60-year-old Adriatic Fig Tree that bountifully supplied figs each summer. He worked tirelessly, year after year to defend the fig tree from all manner of creatures who wanted to eat HIS figs. The backyard became a giant science project with cameras, cords, mini computers, a retrofitted leaf blower and a custom made “wacky wavy” nylon attachment to produce the ultimate in homemade bird and squirrel scaring technology, lovingly known as the Quadrapus. He gained many fig fans in friends, coworkers and neighbors and would hand out bags of figs during harvest. The yield was still plentiful enough to can many jars of fig jam still in the garage today.
Despite his mild-mannered demeanor, Ken loved thrill-seeking endeavors and physical challenge. He was a guy who would drive along I-90 into the foothills of the Cascades, pull off the road and start climbing where there was no trail. He called it “Mountain Attack” and only once did it result in having to dispatch King County Search and Rescue to come get him. Loving wind in his face and moving at high speed, Ken took up skydiving, paragliding and hang gliding in his young adult life, all the while riding a zippy Honda motorcycle about town. He shared this love of motorcycles with his brothers and they embarked on some notable road trips in Arizona and West Virginia together. When Kali wanted to do something extraordinary for her 40th birthday, they flew to the other side of the planet to go shark diving in South Africa and Ken was naturally all in. Upon turning 40 himself, Ken decided to run the Portland marathon. He had to do many practice races leading up to the big event, including the clothing-optional Bare Buns Fun Run in Issaquah, WA. (The spectacle might have been what the ancient Greek Olympics looked like.) These experiences propelled him into a love of running that lead him to participate in many other events including the Seattle Marathon, when he turned 50 and, after his cancer diagnosis, the Run of Hope 5K benefiting Pediatric Brain Tumor Research. It was also at 50 that he discovered a passion for skateboarding. He dedicated early morning hours to arrive at nearby skatepark bowls before skaters half his age did and he attacked his new (though short-lived) hobby with gusto.
In the final years of his life, he became more outspoken about things he believed in and people he cared about. One such group were transgender people as he had worked with a few of them at Google and learned about their lived experiences. Not only did that affect how he designed software interfaces but it activated an empathy and desire to help in a bigger way. He became a fierce advocate, donor and trained in his final year to become a moderator for monthly support meetings. After his brain cancer diagnosis, he also became aware of the Pediatric Brain Tumor Research Fund and was deeply moved by the stories of the children and families affected. He considered himself lucky to have lived a full life and wanted to see these kids get a chance to have one as well. In a final gift and tribute, Ken requested to donate his body for study to the UW Medicine Research Lab in hopes that it might help improve brain cancer treatment for others and ultimately find a cure.
He is survived by his wife Kali Sakai and their children Sidney and Calvin Moore; mother and step-father, Joyce and Duke Shannahan; brothers Ed (Kay) and Michael (Mary) Moore; half-sister Kim Oot (Kris); step-siblings Susan (Michael) Alford, DJ (Cindy) Shannahan, Kelly (Tracy) Shannahan; uncle Jack (Christine) Richardson and a host of loving in-laws, nieces, nephews, cousins & longtime friends from around the world. He was predeceased by his father, Kenneth E. Moore in 2004.
The family expresses appreciation to the Providence Hospice team and the Fedelta caregivers who compassionately assisted Ken and the family through the final weeks of his life.
Per Ken’s wishes, the family asks that any memorial tributes be made in the form of charitable donations to the Ingersoll Gender Center (ingersollgendercenter.org) or to the Pediatric Brain Tumor Research Fund (pbtrf.org/donate).
In lieu of a service, we invite you to share your thoughts and favorite Ken photos, videos and/or stories on the Memory board here: https://tinyurl.com/5esz2p2n
What has been surprising about April is how fast things have changed. Every day revealed a new development and a need to respond quickly.
Ken’s language began to be noticeably impacted earlier this year. By April, even with maximum context and the benefit of living with this man for over the past 17 years, I have significant challenges understanding what he is saying–though sometimes via voice inflection, I can catch a meaning. It’s now a function of asking questions in the right way so he can answer with a yes or no. Or giving simple multiple choice options so we can get the gist.
While he got new glasses this month, due to cognitive difficulties I have to read the letters, cards and messages folks have sent to him but it makes him smile. He does still have excellent hearing and ability to discern aurally, so comedy/music videos and voice mails are great. And one of the best gifts has been friends & family taking the time to make personal videos and audio to share. From a hilarious sketch comedy video by his cousin to long-lost digitized musical gems from Ken’s college bandmates to check-in videos from friends to performance snippets of his brother’s new band, these are treasures he can still enjoy and absorb.
Mid-April we tried to take a small trip to central WA to Suncadia but Ken was unable to leave the condo at all thus we returned home a day early since it was clear the vacation wasn’t really working for everyone. It also starkly exposed how overwhelmed I had become trying to manage everything. Upon our return, I enlisted members of my vaccinated Portland-area immediate family to come help run the household, assist the kids and take some of the day-to-day tasks off my shoulders. It’s been a game changer for me and already Mom, Angela and Dad & Ann have been up here taking shifts. I can now better focus on elements that specifically need my attention as well as project manage Ken’s evolving situation.
Suncadia LodgeAngela & Calvin playing on the new trampoline.Nana showing her stuffDad throwing the ball to Calvin.
We have also been lucky to have accommodating, vaccinated neighbors, family & friends here from near and far. With so little awake time and limited communication, it has to be about what kind of short visits make Ken happy and what makes sense for the flow of the household. Everyone has been gracious, low-impact and flexible which are absolute requirements at this point. Both kids are now in hybrid school programs, attending a bit of class in-person and remote which maintains a structure, routine and a sense of purpose. They have both responded positively to going to school and I am grateful for the safety protocols the schools are observing.
Ken with his sister Kim, visiting from Iowa.
In-person school begins!
The Jackson Family during a garage visit
Dave, Charly and Ken were in a band in their college years. Music Nerds for sure!
Ken and Charly with Ken’s new bass
Ken, Charly & Dave @ Golden Gardens
Ken is sleeping a lot more because his brain is working very hard to compensate for the cancer. He wakes up only for meals and then will tend to have just a short “awake window” in the late afternoon. He gets so wiped out by basic activities (walking to the dinner table) and simple tasks (brushing his teeth, showering) so he’s really only awake for 4-6 hours a day. His balance and strength on his right side are noticeably weaker so we have responded by adapting the house to be safer and more functional for him. Having hospice already engaged has been a vital link to medical equipment (like a hospital bed, wheelchair, bath bench), occupational therapy and caregiving support. I also insist he use a walker now since he had a (luckily uneventful and non-injurious) fall the other day. We will now have an in-home caregiver come a few hours 5-days-a-week who is skilled and trained to handle semi-ambulatory people. The bonus is that Ken will get a break from having his wife telling him–yet again–what to do.
I think the thing I reflect most upon lately is deep gratitude that we have lived an interesting and full life together to this point. Pre-pandemic, we traveled and embraced unique experiences–even while we had young kids, even while there was work, even while sometimes it felt that we should get this and that done first. Because there are no guarantees for one’s time or health. I’m on a cancer caregiver forum and I have seen stories about folks who were waiting for retirement to take a specific trip or accomplish a specific goal, yet steps from the finish line, they get a cancer diagnosis and it changes everything. Naturally “seizing the day” and “you only live once” should be tempered by some prudence and planning, but I think about how I too assumed we’d have loads of time, which you do until you don’t. Everything is of course still limited by the pandemic about how far one can go and what things people can do. However, I would just say, know what/who is important and take action in the now, instead of perhaps waiting too long and missing your chance.
