Hiding in Plain Sight—Our First Holiday Season Without Her

Thanksgiving 2018: When Grief Arrives Uninvited

Thanksgiving 2018 arrived anyway—rude and on time.

I had told Rhianna, my youngest, that we would skip the big family dinner. Threats had started surfacing online:

"Tell your mom to back off or the little one's next."

So we spent the holiday mostly alone. We went to stay with my brother out of town. While I give him and his family credit for trying, I couldn't get my mind off my daughter.

My Kassandra—where was she?

I couldn't eat. I cried myself to sleep. It was absolutely awful. Her absence needed a physical space at the table. I needed her physical presence—and still do.

December 2018: Searching for Stability

By December, I had moved in with my brother for a short time. I needed Rhianna to have a sense of stability, a sense of family. I needed to feel those familiar connections.

I was using that time to figure out: What can I do next?

Reporters asked why I was "still talking."

I answered with my new motto:

"Silence is an accessory after the fact."

Christmas Eve: A Mother's Video Message

Christmas Eve, I recorded a 3-minute video—more for myself than anyone else. I don't know if I will ever get the day to share them with her.

I held up Kassie's chef coat from culinary school and reminded viewers that:

She graduated while homeless
She once begged her son's dad to pick her up so she could shower
The hurt she felt because he left her waiting

I would search for pictures everywhere I could look, and those whom she cared for shared so many memories of my precious girl.

The Grief We Already Carried: Baby Jay'Den

The holidays have always been marred by sadness since 2010.

Kassandra had a son prior to E. She named him Jay'Den Isaiah Castillo. He was her firstborn son. His birth was traumatic and almost cost her her life.

She was at home on the evening of November 15, 2010. She wasn't feeling so hot and went to lay down. When she woke up, she was soaked in blood. She had placenta previa.

I rushed her to the hospital. Baby Jay was born via C-section minutes after arriving. I remember hearing his cry—it was so faint, like listening to the mews of a newborn kitten.

He was rushed to the NICU.

Our brave boy, our strong warrior, fought the good fight for 12 whole days.

He took his last breath in his mother's arms—the first and only time she got to hold her son.

To this day, November 28th brings me to tears, even when I'm not watching the calendar.

Christmas 2010 vs. Christmas 2018

I took Baby Jay's crossing over profoundly. I thought that was the greatest pain to experience.

Christmas of 2010 almost broke me.

But it was Christmas of 2018 that annihilated me in the most profound way. It was the first year my life was truly incomplete.

I began to think of the losses in my life:

Losing Orlando (Rhianna's dad) was bad on so many levels
Losing my ability to be "normal" after a near-fatal car accident was awful

I especially remember that Kassandra would nurse me. She would:

Help me shower and tenderly wash my hair
Go with me to medical appointments and hold my hand
Silently cry while doctors removed my bandages and tunneled my scars for glass
Just watch to make sure I was treated right

In 2010, I had begun to lose hope and faith. I was fractured.

In 2018, Christmas came with such intensity, and no matter what I did, I couldn't function—except this time, I leaned heavily on my faith.

After losing Baby Jay, I knew I wanted my eternity with my Father in Heaven. I turned to God closer to New Year's Day of 2011. In 2018, I realized that having Hope, Faith, and Strength can only come from my God—and He carried me.

New Year's 2019: Fighting for Media Coverage

New Year's 2019—I should have been asleep.

Instead, I was trying to get the attention of anyplace that would listen. I had every ear closed.

I reached out to:

Newspapers
TV stations
Other agencies

I had already registered Kassie with NamUs, The Charley Project, The Missing, and so many more places online. I made sure she was listed in every agency possible.

The Gabby Petito Case: A Stark Contrast

Years later, I reflected on the events surrounding Gabby Petito. May she be in God's Peace.

I was saddened by the events that took her so violently from this world. Yet I couldn't help but wonder at the media attention this family received.

The difference was stark.

Kassandra came from a poor background. At the time of her disappearance, she was struggling to stay clean. She didn't always make stellar choices.

But her core self? She had always proven to be pure:

She loved deeply
She always showed loyalty to friends and even foes
She had the ability to light up rooms, even when her behavior was feisty or protective

So internally I cried—"Please help me"—to deaf ears.

Gabby was found just a few hours away from where I was living at the time in Wyoming.

"My brown daughter is still missing. Cover her like you covered Gabby."

A Door Finally Opens: Paramount+ and Tyler Perry

Then a producer from Paramount+ DM'd me:

"We're developing a series. Can you speak to us and tell us Kassandra's story?"

I was beyond thrilled. Finally, someone wants to listen.

I was told this was a Tyler Perry Production. He had taken an interest in missing individuals after hearing of someone who went missing in Florida.

That conversation became the "Never Seen Again" episode that aired in 2022—her story slotted between seasons on billion-dollar franchises.

Proof that persistence can pry open even iron doors.

Valentine's Day: Three Carnations

Valentine's Day, I bought three carnations:

One for Kassie
One for Rhianna
One for me

Rhianna asked if we could finally go home.

I said, "When justice lives there, we will."

Resurrection Sunday: A Mother's Meditation

Resurrection Sunday came with sadness as well.

As a mother, I felt pain that can only be felt when losing a child. I thought about Mother Mary as she watched the torture her son, our Savior, experienced—and how she was helpless to do anything about the injustice Christ went through.

Then I think of how, in a maternal heart, all she would want to do is provide comfort to her child at the moment of his crossing over.

An anguish so profound.

Moms just want to hold their child and kiss their child's ouchies away, no matter their age. Us moms remember:

The kicks to our ribs
Endless hours of labor
The cries, feedings, sleepless nights
Teething, rashes, ear infections
The first time they roll, stand, take a step
The first time they say "I love you"

The unsung songs. The unaccomplished goals. The years that go by when the sun has circled and lands on the day they were born.

The First Birthday She Would Have Turned 26

The first day she would have turned 26—and every day since—my heart remembers. My sadness just beneath the surface.

How many seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years until I get an answer?

How long until I get to either hold my daughter again?

Or when will the confirmation come that she too has crossed over—that she repented and now lives with The Great I Am, waiting for us to join her?

I wait eagerly for the last breath I take. Don't get me wrong—I'm not pushing for the moment. I'm just thinking how wonderful it would be to hold her in my arms once again.

Until that time, I will be mom and grandma. I will live my life for God and advocate for other families who are now part of this "Club."

The Club No One Wants to Join

It's the one club in the world where someone pays the highest dues—the price for a new now, a new life living in ambiguity's grip.

It's a title you now hold: "The Loved One of The Missing."

Faith in the Darkness

As I circle back to Mother Mary—her Jesus, the little boy that she saw, was the Lamb of God. Her sacrifice unimaginable. And the dues Christ paid on The Cross was for both me and you—yes, you reading this.

I know it's easy to give up faith. It's even easier to be mad at God for allowing this to happen.

Why her? Why MY family?

Dear reader, my brother/sister in Christ: God loves the missing more than you or I ever could.

Does it get easier?

I'd like to say yes, but that would be a lie.

What I can say is: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Some days are easier than others
Some days I can think or speak of my Kassie and smile
Others, I can't even say her name
Some days I even laugh
Sometimes I don't feel guilty when I laugh
Yet others, I feel this huge weight suddenly

It's those moments I lean heaviest on my faith. I couldn't survive a day without it.

Be kind to yourself. Allow yourself to feel your feels. But allow yourself God's grace and peace.

—Ingrid Santana-Ramirez
Mother of Kassandra Briana Ramirez, missing since September 19, 2018