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

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Shrines

People have amassed shrines for years.   In Prague there is a wall dedicated to John Lennon; flowers and photos adorn the gates of Princess Diana’s home in London; an eternal flame shines for the unknown soldier; Shinto shrines celebrate wind, rain, mountains, trees and rivers; we bury our dead and mark the grave with a headstone….we want a marker of those things valuable and important to us.   That is how we feel about our dead children; we don’t want our children to be forgotten, we must remember them, others must remember them.   My son's boots are my shrine to him.   His boots are the only thing left from his accident.   They sit there, worn but whole, and I see him, I think of him, I remember him, I love him.   His boots do that for me….they create an instant recall of him, his person, his character, his life. Don’t tell me to put the boots away, don’t tell me that is it unhealthy to hold on to things that recall his memory…it is...
Post a Comment
Read more

Hunger

There is a vast void in my heart right now; just emptiness.  I can't seem to collect my thoughts or make sense of much of anything.  I don't have any desires, no wishes, no hopes, just a body devoid of life.  It's like when you open the refrigerator and it's full of food and there is nothing in there you want to eat, so you shut the door and walk away yearning for something to satiate your hunger.  I'm hungry and I know there is plenty of food out there to ease my hunger, but I don't want any of it. Yes, at times I can laugh and smile at things in life and I believe it is essential to embrace this life for what it is....embrace those you love, laugh with those who entertain you, cry with those who need comfort, and dance with those who celebrate. It hurts to embrace it, but it also comforts, it is the ultimate paradox.  I receive comfort from helping others who are experiencing pain or grief, there is something palatable about being able to empathyze...
Post a Comment
Read more

Looking at New Grief

  I looked new grief in the face today. I hurt. I saw the pain, the hopelessness, the deep sorrow of grieving a child. His eyes were tired, and then he laid his head down on the mailbox that stood between us, my neighbor and me. The fatigue of grieving covered his face and his body was bent with the heaviness of it all. This is his second loss, the twin to the son he lost thirty years ago. This one comes with trapping and thoughts unlike the first. It’s hit him hard. There are no more children, his wife is dead. He’s alone. He’s lonely. He’s sad. I ache for him. I want to make it all better for him, but I know I can’t, this is his journey. He says I’m strong. He sees me breathing, walking, he believes me to be strong. I share that my times of wailing and crying are done in private, and it hurts so badly to open your heart and allow the sorrow to be, to know the absence, to acknowledge the death, to understand all that was lost and to have it seared into the soul and vanq...
Post a Comment
Read more