Toddler trapped in hospital desperate for new heart after common virus left her critically ill
It’s hard to believe that it’s been six years since one of the brightest little lights I’ve ever known became a heavenly angel.
There are some kids who are tough to connect with, and Natalie was definitely one of them. She was shy, quiet, and guarded.
For years, she’d watch around the corner at the Ronald wanting to play, but so sick and frail. I’d pass her by and say “hey,” hoping one day the wall would come down. And then it did, and it was worth the wait.
One Baby Alive doll, a set of sparkly mermaid makeup brushes, and some truly creative makeovers later, we became the best of friends.
Natalie loved in a way that was pure magic. Her sweetness, her silliness, her whole presence was simply delicious.
She handed out hugs and kisses to those she loved like confetti. She made “like and discribe” videos, dressed up like JoJo Siwa, watched MattyB, and lovingly pushed her baby dolls in tiny strollers.
She lived in a world of princesses, sparkle, music, and joy.
There was one summer I’ll never forget. We spent almost every single day together. She was in New York getting treatment from Arizona.
Days at the beach and the park, steak and French fries (her favorite), and Luke Bryan playing through the speakers.
We’d end our adventures with rainbow snow cones from the candy shop, sticky with syrup and sunshine.
She even made her way to my sorority house, in Michigan, capturing the hearts of everyone she walked by.
She was my shadow. My left-hand girl. She’d slip into my heels and tell me she was practicing for when she was big like me.
She gave me nicknames like Jage, Pooks, Pookie… we laughed more than we talked. Her imagination was boundless every day was an adventure: the hot tub, the pool, the slides. She was always down.
I’ve missed her every single day since.
To have been loved by Natalie Dawn is one of the greatest honors of my life. Being let into her world—her magical, twirling, glitter-filled world—was a gift I will forever cherish.
Today, on the sixth anniversary of her passing, I feel especially sad. I pray she’s in heaven, twirling in a princess dress, singing God is on the Move with God Himself.
I love you so much, Natalie. Thank you for letting me be your person.
Forever and ever,
Your Jage 
