Grieving Parent

Category: Grieving

  • The Dream Fades

    The Dream Fades

    They say all good things must end. And so it seems to be.

    I had a dream a few weeks ago. It gave me a great sense of peace.

    The feelings from the dream were strong, but they’re fading.

    Lately I’ve been thinking about what it was like for Richard in those last moments.

    How long did it take? I have no idea how long he could have held on when those seizures took him over. Was it just minutes or hours?

    Did he have pain? I know the other two times he went into seizure he bit his tongue enough to give him bloody foam around his mouth. Biting your tongue hurts. What other pains could he have suffered in all the struggle?

    He was on the floor in the middle of the room. Did he fall? Or did he dose off there while playing video games or watching TV?

    And the worst thought – did he know what was happening? Did he feel fear? Did he know he was helpless and dying? Did he feel his life slipping away?

    I can only hope the seizures that trapped him in an unresponsive body also kept his brain from knowing what was happening to him.

    And the roller coaster ride continues.

  • Footprints

    Footprints

    I was in town this morning, so I went to the cemetery.

    The cemetery had been closed on Sunday because of the snowy weather. Today it was open again.

    As I left my car and started walking down the hill to Richard’s grave I looked out over the snow covered ground. There was one set of footprints. They led down the hill and turned to face Richard’s grave.

    I was struck by the scene.

    Here was a picture of the never ending and lonely love of a mother that has lost her child.

    You could feel the coldness of her sorrow in the snow.

    And yet the beauty of her love is there as well.

    It was a powerful picture.

    But of course I didn’t bring my camera. And I forgot my cell phone too.

    So I had to find a stock photo to use for this post. It’s not near as good, but I hope you get the idea.

  • Ambush

    Ambush

    Debbie needed something for show-and-tell time at the next Compassionate Friends meeting. She was supposed to bring something that was important to Richard or something he was proud of. The idea was for everyone to show their item and tell the story about what it meant in the life of their child.

    She asked me to think of something.

    Later I remembered Richard’s Frisbee in the trunk of his car. A lover of all sports, Richard often played Ultimate Frisbee. I thought about him smiling while he went all out, full speed ahead, trying to win.

    And wham, the tears started running down my cheeks.

    I wasn’t expecting that. But that’s how it still is, even after 8 months.

    You just never know when it will hit you or what will trigger it.

    I looked out the kitchen window and saw several bright red cardinal birds sitting in the lilac bush. From the sunroom windows I could see a cardinal on each of the bird feeders in the backyard and several more on the ground and in the trees nearby.

    In a Kentucky Wildcat Big Blue family, Richard professed to be a University of Louisville Cardinal fan. I think it was mostly fake. He followed UK closer than UL. But he loved to aggravate his uncle Stuart, his grandpa and me.

    Could all the cardinals have been a sign from Richard that he’s OK?

    Probably they were a sign that it was cold and snowy out, and they were just getting some food where they could.

    But who knows, I’m keeping an open mind.

    I miss you kid.

  • You Have No Idea How Much

    You Have No Idea How Much

    front of b'day cardGot snowed in today.

    Debbie took the occasion to clean out the drawers in the kitchen cabinets.  In one of the drawers were many old greeting cards.

    She handed me one.

    It was a birthday card from Richard to me. The front of the card is above. The inside is below.

    Birthday greetings from Richard.

    Yes Richard, it does get me right there.

    I miss you kid.

  • Christmas Morning 2009

    Christmas Morning 2009

    Dear Richard,

    It’s Christmas.

    You’re not here. It’s not the same without you.

    No country ham. We did have bacon, nice and crispy but not burnt.

    Sarah passed out the gifts. You weren’t sitting cross-legged on the floor to get yours. Your stocking was empty. Unless you count all the thoughts of love that we sent out to you.

    It was a nice morning – sort of.

    Not as nice as the twenty-two Christmas mornings that we had you here with us.

    And we didn’t go to the farm. Your uncle Stuart had to have back surgery a week ago and he can’t travel much. So we went to his house this time. You probably would have enjoyed it, even though you don’t like to change our traditions. They have a pool table and Foosball.  There was a lot of heated compitition – just the way you like it.

    Merry Christmas son.

    We miss you.

    Love,
    Dad