Thursday, December 16, 2010

December 16

December 16, 2010 ~ Five years ago today, I was at the hospital with David, watching my son breathe with the help of machines, being told there is no brain activity.  I was numb, disbelieving, in shock, so we came home and told the girls and we all got ready to go to work and school.

I had the foresight to secure a sub for the afternoon, thinking I would be able to go on as usual for the morning. On my way to work, Chris came to me, I don’t know how to explain it, or understand it, but he verbally came to me, out loud, and told me, “Mom, I love you.  I didn’t mean to do it. I’m sorry.” I heard his voice, and he was crying, I could tell he was crying, and I drove to school sobbing so hard I could hardly see to drive. Luckily, Judi came to my room, set me straight, sent me home.

I called Pam and said I wanted to go back to the hospital, could she come get me?  She could and did.  Thank God for Pam. Kelli met us somewhere, I don’t remember where and we went back to the hospital and waited for organ recipients to be found, and signed paperwork and watched Chris breathe, with the help of machines. 

Dozens of people showed up all day.  Many close friends and family members came to honor Chris and say their good-byes.  His forever friends, Cory and Bill, hugged me and we cried together for the loss of someone we loved so much. They thanked me for giving them their best friend, and I thanked them for always being there. 

I stood by my beloved son's side, holding his hand, kissing his face, marveling at the little tiny bullet hole he inflicted in just the right place, to take his pain away.  I understood him wanting to get away from his pain, but in doing so, he left us all inconsolable in our pain.  I rubbed his feet, kissed his feet and sobbed at the loss of my only son, reminded of the story in the bible of the woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears.

As I sit here now, writing and crying, I think I should get out pictures, but then realize, I don’t need pictures.  My son’s face is imbedded in my memory and I can sit here and watch his face, from birth to death, in my mind, as clear as if I was with him. And, should I forget, I can just look up at the Christmas tree, and see his charming smile over the years, as there are ornaments hanging with his sweet face.

In two days I will be 60.  For the past five years I've hated my birthday, as it just reminds me of my loss. I’ve outlived my mom by 30 years, and I find it disconcerting that she died at 30 and her oldest grandson died at 30, also.  

But, I’m having a party.  I’m surrounding myself with people I love, and who love me.  I am celebrating that I choose life, that I choose to go on, that I am a survivor, on so many different levels.  And I am humbled by the fact that God has a plan for my life, in spite of my own poor choices. I have miraculously survived two horrible car accidents; I slipped off a dock and inexplicably came back up between two walkways, instead of knocking myself out and drowning. I have survived the loss of my mother as a child, and the loss of my son. I realized a life long dream of becoming a teacher at the crowning age of 51, and love my job (most of the time J).  I am a miracle, I am loved, and I am worthy of celebration.

1 comment:

  1. I love the conclusion you came to with this. I love the growth through the piece, from pain to unmistakeable love and grace. It is astounding what you have accomplished in your life and all that you have been able to do. You are a fantastic inspiration to me (and many others) as you keep pushing forward, no matter how difficult the path. They say the path is narrow, and it is, but yours has been covered with boulders and traps, and yet somehow, you have made it through. You are such a wonderful mother, friend, writer, and person - it is amazing to see how you have persevered and come to the great realization of what you are: lovable, worthy, and celebrated.


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