Katie Burke

One year. #BURKETOUGH One year ago, on September 2, 2025, at 10:41 a.m., I got a message that forever changed our family’s life. It’s hard to even put into words what that moment did to me. There are parts of that day that feel like yesterday, and other parts that still don’t feel real. For 15 days, I didn’t know if my husband was going to wake up. I didn’t know what our future looked like or what life was going to look like for our family. Of course, in true Phil fashion, even during those terrifying days, he found little ways to show us that he was still in there — and still fighting. I will never forget leaving the hospital and crying the entire drive home, trying to pull myself together before walking through the door to our two little ones. I had to look at them and tell them, “Daddy is going to be okay,” because that’s what they needed to hear from their mom — even though I had absolutely no idea if it was true. There are some moments in life that divide everything into a before and an after. September 2nd will always be that day for us. But today, one year later, Phil is here. And I don’t think there are words big enough for what that means. This year has asked more of us than anyone should ever have to give. He has had to fight for things most of us never think twice about. There have been incredible victories and unbelievably hard days. There have been tears, frustration, laughter, setbacks, progress, and moments that have reminded us just how precious life really is. Phil, I hope you know how incredibly proud I am of you. I have watched you fight your way back to us every single day. Even when you were exhausted. Even when you were frustrated. Even when you couldn’t see the progress everyone else could see. You kept going. You survived. And you are still fighting. I also know with my whole heart that we did not make it through this year alone. To the incredible doctors, nurses, therapists, and staff at Strong who cared for Phil and cared about our family — thank you will never feel like enough. You gave us hope during the scariest days of our lives. You cared for him when I couldn’t do it myself, and I will forever be grateful for every person who helped bring him back to us. To the amazing Dr. M and our PA, Bill Gruhn, who I am so lucky to work with — you showed up for me and my family the day our entire world turned upside down, and I will never forget what you did for us. The help, advice, support, and kindness you gave us during those first terrifying hours meant more than I could ever explain. And the continued support you have given us throughout this year has helped more than either of you will ever know. To my parents, who showed up for me, Phil, and our kids in every way possible — thank you. You helped carry us through the hardest moments, gave us strength when we had none left, helped with whatever needed to be done, and reminded us that we were never alone. I will never be able to fully express how much your love and support have meant to me and our family. And to our family and friends who sat beside me, sat beside Phil, called, texted, brought food, helped with our kids, cried with us, made us laugh, prayed for us, checked in, shared our updates, supported our fundraisers, wore your BURKETOUGH shirts, and continued showing up long after the initial shock was over — thank you. And a huge shoutout to Mat, Cady, Ange, McKenzie, and Colin. You were there through some of the moments I never thought I would survive, and I will never forget it. Some of you carried us through moments when I truly didn’t know how I was going to take another step. You loved Phil. You loved our kids. You loved me. And you reminded us over and over again that we weren’t doing this alone. There is no way to adequately thank every single person who has been part of this journey, but please know that I remember. Our family remembers. A year ago, I would have given anything just to know that Phil would open his eyes again. Today, I get to look at him. I get to hear his voice. Our kids get to hug their daddy. We get to laugh with him, argue with him, love him, cheer him on, and keep walking beside him as he continues to heal. There is still a road ahead of us. A brain injury doesn’t disappear because a year has passed, and recovery doesn’t follow a timeline. We know this journey isn’t over. But September 2nd isn’t only the anniversary of the worst day of our lives. It’s also the anniversary of the day Phil survived. So today, I don’t want to focus only on what was taken from us that morning. I want to celebrate what we still have. I want to celebrate every step Phil has taken, every obstacle he has overcome, every person who has stood beside us, and every moment we have been given together since 10:41 a.m. on September 2, 2025. Most of all, I want to celebrate you, Phil. I love you more than words could ever say. I am so proud of how far you’ve come, and no matter how long this road is, I will always be proud of the fight you have in you. One year later, you’re still here. Still fighting. Still making us laugh. Still a massive PITA. Still stubborn as hell. Still loved beyond measure. And forever BURKETOUGH.

One year. #BURKETOUGH One year ago, on September 2, 2025, at 10:41 a.m., I got a message that forever changed our family’s life. It’s hard to even put into words what that moment did to me. There are parts of that day that feel like yesterday, and other parts that still don’t feel real. For 15 days, I didn’t know if my husband was going to wake up. I didn’t know what our future looked like or what life was going to look like for our family. Of course, in true Phil fashion, even during those terrifying days, he found little ways to show us that he was still in there — and still fighting. I will never forget leaving the hospital and crying the entire drive home, trying to pull myself together before walking through the door to our two little ones. I had to look at them and tell them, “Daddy is going to be okay,” because that’s what they needed to hear from their mom — even though I had absolutely no idea if it was true. There are some moments in life that divide everything into a before and an after. September 2nd will always be that day for us. But today, one year later, Phil is here. And I don’t think there are words big enough for what that means. This year has asked more of us than anyone should ever have to give. He has had to fight for things most of us never think twice about. There have been incredible victories and unbelievably hard days. There have been tears, frustration, laughter, setbacks, progress, and moments that have reminded us just how precious life really is. Phil, I hope you know how incredibly proud I am of you. I have watched you fight your way back to us every single day. Even when you were exhausted. Even when you were frustrated. Even when you couldn’t see the progress everyone else could see. You kept going. You survived. And you are still fighting. I also know with my whole heart that we did not make it through this year alone. To the incredible doctors, nurses, therapists, and staff at Strong who cared for Phil and cared about our family — thank you will never feel like enough. You gave us hope during the scariest days of our lives. You cared for him when I couldn’t do it myself, and I will forever be grateful for every person who helped bring him back to us. To the amazing Dr. M and our PA, Bill Gruhn, who I am so lucky to work with — you showed up for me and my family the day our entire world turned upside down, and I will never forget what you did for us. The help, advice, support, and kindness you gave us during those first terrifying hours meant more than I could ever explain. And the continued support you have given us throughout this year has helped more than either of you will ever know. To my parents, who showed up for me, Phil, and our kids in every way possible — thank you. You helped carry us through the hardest moments, gave us strength when we had none left, helped with whatever needed to be done, and reminded us that we were never alone. I will never be able to fully express how much your love and support have meant to me and our family. And to our family and friends who sat beside me, sat beside Phil, called, texted, brought food, helped with our kids, cried with us, made us laugh, prayed for us, checked in, shared our updates, supported our fundraisers, wore your BURKETOUGH shirts, and continued showing up long after the initial shock was over — thank you. And a huge shoutout to Mat, Cady, Ange, McKenzie, and Colin. You were there through some of the moments I never thought I would survive, and I will never forget it. Some of you carried us through moments when I truly didn’t know how I was going to take another step. You loved Phil. You loved our kids. You loved me. And you reminded us over and over again that we weren’t doing this alone. There is no way to adequately thank every single person who has been part of this journey, but please know that I remember. Our family remembers. A year ago, I would have given anything just to know that Phil would open his eyes again. Today, I get to look at him. I get to hear his voice. Our kids get to hug their daddy. We get to laugh with him, argue with him, love him, cheer him on, and keep walking beside him as he continues to heal. There is still a road ahead of us. A brain injury doesn’t disappear because a year has passed, and recovery doesn’t follow a timeline. We know this journey isn’t over. But September 2nd isn’t only the anniversary of the worst day of our lives. It’s also the anniversary of the day Phil survived. So today, I don’t want to focus only on what was taken from us that morning. I want to celebrate what we still have. I want to celebrate every step Phil has taken, every obstacle he has overcome, every person who has stood beside us, and every moment we have been given together since 10:41 a.m. on September 2, 2025. Most of all, I want to celebrate you, Phil. I love you more than words could ever say. I am so proud of how far you’ve come, and no matter how long this road is, I will always be proud of the fight you have in you. One year later, you’re still here. Still fighting. Still making us laugh. Still a massive PITA. Still stubborn as hell. Still loved beyond measure. And forever BURKETOUGH.

On September 26, 2026 at Noon there is a walk-March on for Brain Injury. The location is Seneca Park, 2222 St. Paul Street, Rochester, NY. We will have a BURKETOUGH team. Please join Team BURKETOUGH as we walk in honor of Phil and support him throughout his continued recovery from a traumatic brain injury. Since Phil was seriously injured while working on September 2, 2025, our family’s life has changed in ways we never could have imagine. He has fought through critical injuries, weeks in the hospital and brain rehabilitation, and the many physical, cognitive, and emotional challenges that continue at home. Phil works hard every day, but recovery from a TBI is a long and unpredictable journey. Our family remains by his side through every step, while I am also caring for our two young children and adjusting to an entirely new way of life. We would be so grateful to have our friends, family, and community walk beside us. You can support Team BURKETOUGHby joining our team, making a donation, or sharing our page. Every donation will help support Phil’s ongoing recovery and the needs of our family as we continue navigating this journey together. Your love, encouragement, and generosity mean more to us than words can express. Thank you for reminding Phil and our family that we are not walking this road alone. Together, we are always BURKETOUGH This is the link to register or you can donate here and we can sign you up as a team member: https://pro.gofundme.com/team/847457 If you want to walk with us please reach out to me, Katie. If you need my number message me!