An Entry I Never Wanted to Write
And it’s an entry I didn’t think I’d have to write so soon…
Our Rock, Our Mom, Our MaMa
There are some people in life who quietly hold everything together. For our family, that person was Mom.
On February 7, 2026, we said goodbye to her — wife, mom, MaMa, teacher, prayer warrior, and the steady, gentle force behind so much of what makes James’s Journey possible.
Mom was the kind of person who treated everyone like family. And I don’t mean that as a phrase people say — I mean she lived that way, with everyone. If you walked into her home, you were fed, hugged, asked about your life, and prayed for by name later. She was always known as Mama or Mama Hutton because she was a mom to almost everyone she met.
Mom taught children’s church for years and served as a Stephen Minister, always drawn to caring for people in quiet, meaningful ways. She prayed constantly — for James, for our family, for the families walking this rare disease road beside us. So much of the strength behind James’s Journey came from her steady presence and unwavering faith.
If you’ve ever received a meal, a hug, a text, or a prayer from our family in a hard moment, there’s a good chance Mom helped make that possible.
But if you knew Mom in recent years, you knew her most important job:
MaMa to James.
When James was diagnosed with CLN2 Batten disease, the ground shifted beneath our feet. And without hesitation, Mom stepped in beside us. She didn’t just help — she anchored us. She showed up to appointments, therapies, hospital stays, infusion days, and the ordinary Tuesdays that felt anything but ordinary. She stayed close so she could help care for James day in and day out. She learned his routines, his medications, his comforts, his joys. She gave up her retirement life to stay home and help care for James. Something not many grandparents would do.
She was his rock. She was our rock. She was my rock.
To help take the stress off me with my lupus, she and I split the responsibilities of caring for James. And when one of us had a flare, the other would cover those responsibilities. We were taking life one day at a time when we found out about James. Now we’re taking it one second at a time with the loss of my mom.
She loved James fiercely. She delighted in his laugh, his trucks, his trains, his routines. She celebrated his wins and sat beside us in the hard moments. She chose to stay close so she could help us carry this journey — and we will never be able to fully put into words what that has meant.
There’s a hole in our days now that feels impossible to describe. But there is also so much of her still here — in the way we care for James, in the way we care for others, in the way this community shows up for our family. She helped build that. She helped build this.
We know many of you loved her. Many of you were prayed for by her, taught by her, hugged by her, or encouraged by her at just the right moment. Thank you for loving her and for loving us so well in these days.
As we keep walking forward with James, we carry her with us in everything we do.
We love you, Mom, and we will do our best to follow your legacy in the care and love you gave to James and others. Thank you for holding us steady and we’ll see you again soon.
— Kathryn, Cory, and James
https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/12739865
Arrangements for mom will be on February 22nd, at 2:00 PM EST at Philadelphia Presbyterian Church in Mint Hill, NC. We will try and live stream the funeral so those far away can still watch it.
In lieu of flowers, we ask for donations to the BDSRA, RMHC of Chapel Hill or to the church. Thank you.