Posted by RoseyReel on October 14, 2004, at 13:03:44
I am new here, so please bear with me.
I met my son Ed, on the day of his birth, August 13, 1977. He was a quietly contemplative, good natured, healthy child, who willingly took the blame for his older siblings mishaps in good stride. He was the baby. He died suddenly on August 26, 2004.
I was greeted by police officers at my door at 3:30 am that morning with the news of his sudden death. After talking with my oldest son, Dave (from the hospital) who was living with him, I was told he found Ed on the bathroom floor of his house. His home was close to the hospital, and the ambulance had arrived in a matter of 6 minutes, but there was no help for him.I later found out from the ME's Office, that he had been a victim of SARCOIDOSIS, another one of those immune difficiency diseases they know nothing about. My research led me to wonder how he could possibly have walked around and functioned as normally as he did with so few symptoms--then simply drop dead to the floor. His only symptoms were a mild flue or cold and a dry cough he could not rid himself of for which he was treated and subsided. Had the disease not entered his heart, he would still be with us today. (Knowing he would not have been happy to experience life dependent on medications and aspirators doesn't help--and I know that thought is selfish of me.)
I went through the "blame thing" trying in vane to find someone to blame, researching medications, treatment or lack thereof, given him during his recent Dr. visit, but there is none and I am past that now.
I try to understand, but of course, there is none of that either--other than to know that for everyone, with life there is a journey toward death at the time of its' choice.
I have never felt such enormous and continuous grief though, I am now experiencing a good day here and there. And yet, knowing that after any day's respite, a river of unstoppable tears will follow the next--like a black tide whose dam has broken, and continues quietly running throughout every chore or task I endeavor. I can only go to sleep when exhausted, and arise from bed in the morning in a hurry--to fill my mind before it begins to obsess. This after 5-6 hours sleep. Still, I try to stay busy, distracted, though there seem to be many tasks I find myself unable to make myself do. Some are important, and I keep procrastinating until "tomorrow".
Knowing other mothers who have lost children, the phrase "I don't know what I would do if I ever lost one of my own" has hit home hard. I will not take tranquilizers or anti-depressants. I know they will only fog and delay my emotions for the grieving I must experience and the reality I must face. Eventually, in time, I know there will be more good days than bad, and that I will be able to remember him and speak his name without the constant flow of tears.
I know he will never again drop by from work on his lunch break with a hug, just to say "HI"; he will never again call me to tell me about some new electronic marvel he just bought; he will never again bring his camp gear to show me and belie my fears of his extreme weather trips; he will never again show me pictures of his recent camping venture taken with his new camera.
He had just turned from 26 to 27, his birthday having been on Friday, the 13th of August. (the math is eerie). Almost 200 people showed for his viewing--I never new how many friends he had made and kept in his too short life. His best friend said "No one ever didn't like Ed, he was the glue that held us all together".
His best friend through school who recently had become his new roommate will be moving back to New York. His pets have been taken in by friends. His brother, who was living with him, is now residing with his sister. His house will be sold and his possessions split among family and friends. A ripple effect has taken place with his loss affecting all the lives he graciously and gently touched.
Memories are beginning to flood me now-- I am 53 and I feel the need coming on to keep a journal to refer to as I age. (My own mother is becoming forgetful and I want to keep memories of my children available, just in case.)
For his 28th birthday, his ashes will be carried by the wind from the mountain of his last and favorite camping venture. I will not attend, as my knees won't take the hike to the Virginia mountain top.
I could go to hospice for help in this grieving process, but regardless of shared sufferings, I know that my grief is something I alone own. It is a natural process experienced in a personal way. There are no answeres. I cannot make a "trade" for the rapist or murderer who has never been caught--and as much as I would trade my life for his--I know there's no new deal to be made. The deal is done.
I know he is in a gentler, safer place, without his stressors, sorrows and anxieties. I know I will meet my Ed again at the proper time.
To write here is a haven and safe harbor of sharing---God bless everyone.
poster:RoseyReel
thread:402986
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/grief/20040811/msgs/402986.html