Skip to main content

Two years ago today...

Two years ago today, your life as we knew it ended. Two years ago today, I fell to my knees in light of the horror that my precious child was burned in a horrific explosion. I begged for mercy, pleaded for your life, and crumbled in the fear of your death. I still see you there on that gurney, under those lights, waiting for the airplane to take to you to Shands. The weather so bad, we had to wait for it to pass and take you by fixed wing plane. Your dad and I arrived at Shands before you, waiting for hours in the emergency room for you to arrive.  Finally, there, again another little room where they tell you all the things you fear the most.  When I saw you again, I wretched and vomited for your body was so desecrated; my beautiful, wonderful, precious child lay there burned, dying and there was nothing I could do to help you, to ease your pain, to comfort you.  For twenty one days, you fought that battle my precious son, like the brave warrior that we raised, like the source of your name, Little Warrior. For twenty one days, surgeries, skin grafts, collapsed lungs, failing kidneys, blood transfusions…whatever archaic or futuristic thing could be thought of…you fought.  You fought. You fought, but death always wins.

We spent Christmas by your side, Elizabeth made sure you had a tree in your room.  There were no gifts to share, no words exchanged, only hope that one day you would again be in our world, whole, able to play and fish and live and love like all good boys should be able to do. We hoped. We prayed. We cried.  We begged.  We pleaded. But death always wins.

Those people, those wretched, horrible people, who used you without thought for your safety or your welfare, abandoning all regard for law and even for that of basic humanity, for all that is good and right; those people who so selfishly and thoughtlessly took you from this world, I will not be able to forgive them. I cannot forgive them, they took too much from me, too much from us, from this world. Their recklessness, their negligence, their selfishness, their lies and their treatment of the accident and your death with such casualness, for that I shall harbor a hatred in my heart as deep and powerful as my love for you until the day I take my last breath. 

My beautiful boy so kind and generous,
My precious child that brought me light and joy and showed me how to live,
My wonderful son who gave me meaning, purpose and hope,
 I love you so my beautiful boy, my precious child, my wonderful son.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

God Moment

I was thinking of when I created this blog and named it.... Living with Loss, I knew I would have to live with this loss, but at that time I wasn't living, I was surviving. It was a goal of sorts… but also a mission to keep breathing. It is only now, over six years since the death of my son that I have begun to know how to live again. The sharpness of those first months and years have softened and the pangs of grief strike less frequently, though when they do they rage with vengeance. What a journey of emotion these past six and half years have been from overwhelming and consuming grief, disbelief and shock, depression and fear, finally acceptance and the incorporation of the loss into our lives.  I remember in the first months after Wyatt's death, I would walk through the house and tell myself he had gone on a very long trip to a place far, far away. He was unable to contact me and I unable to contact him. I later learned counselors think this is a poor method for ...

Seeing God Where I am

O God, who created all peoples in your image, we thank you for the wonderful diversity of races and cultures in this world. Enrich our lives by ever-widening circles of fellowship, and show us your presence in those who differ most from us, until our knowledge of your love is made perfect in our love for all your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.   Carolyn A. Rose I've had the distinct privilege in life to have traveled to various places, some vastly different from my home, and some quite similar.  Regardless of the magnitude of differences, I can always feel the uniqueness of the place. After a while, certainly I long for the familiar comfort of home... but I always return with a fuller heart and a more open mind. Then it's like a siren song calling me back to seek more, ask more, learn more and inwardly digest it to build me into a more understanding and compassionate being.  In a class I am taking, we were posed this question: How have ...

The Yin and Yang and a Rock

A husband and wife (spouse/partner) generally have different ways to soothe their sorrows, express their grief, and to move forward in life. Finding a balance that respects each other is imperative to land in a healing place. Moving forward can be challenging and scary because all the while you want desperately to keep alive the memory of what was once the living representation of your union.   My husband and I have very different ways of coping with our grief. I see him as an active griever. My way is a bit more clandestine. He finds comfort in listening to the songs our son enjoyed, driving his truck, visiting the places he went. For him, these things are a connection to our son.  To be in concert with a person who knew Wyatt, or to be in a place they were together is a heartbeat for him.  Me, I retreat to a veiled silence. The songs, the places, the things; more often than not, they evoke fear and sorrow in my heart.  The marrow of my being hurts an...