I have been trying to write this blog for over a week now.
This part was written over the weekend…. Mary is in the ER, once again, thousands of miles away from her momma, with what is hopefully an ovarian cyst. The severe pain is being handled by morphine and zofran for the accompanying vomiting brought on by the extreme pain, but the distance between us is overwhelming for his momma. Alaina is with the Tiemans for a surf competition up the coast for the four-day weekend, and Derek is with friends until his 11pm curfew, and how I wish my kids were home under my watch on this windy, stormy night. These feelings of uncertainty are the finish to what was a beautiful day. Keeping my “eye on the prize”, knowing that tomorrow is another day, and perhaps just as good a one as yesterday. Strange thought to have as I know the morning will be spent at the celebration of life for a CB friend who lost her battle from complications from his BMT two years ago, but I know that I have come to love these events, hearing all the loving thoughts and memories of another hero in my life. I will keep you posted on Mary for all those as impatient as myself. Now on to my thoughts….
Thankfully you can only imagine….
I have heard these words more times than I can count, and my reply is always the same, “I am so thankful you can only imagine!”, as the pain we grieving mothers feel on a daily basis is not an easy burden to carry, some days overwhelmingly “heavy” and others are remarkably “feathery” light. I do know that circumstances behind the death of a child, feelings of guilt and regret, how the child died, is it any only child that passed, the age of the child at death, etc. are all factors that dictate what the grief journey might look like, and no two are the same, but what we all have in common is the permanent hole in our hearts in the shape of our children.
If I was to rate the top two fears of a “mother”, or at least this mother, they would be first, of course, the death of your child and second, the death of yourself. You may challenge my thought process, but this is my blog, so if you wish to hear my thoughts, continue on. I am living the worst fear. And my friend Elaine is living the second. I can “only imagine” the fear she holds knowing that the tumor that invades her liver and lymph node(s) can potentially kill her. She has extreme faith which will carry her no matter what the outcome, but at 51 she is not ready to end her earthly life, and we, her community, will do everything we can to help her continue the fight, despite the fact that her insurance company has abandoned her. Yes, you heard me right; they have denied the treatment her doctors feel is the best shot for treatment/cure. As Elaine fights the powers that be, we her community help in any way we can, and for me it is helping take some slack by teaching classes for her, and then hosting the first of what will be many fundraisers to pay for what the insurance refuses.
My feelings about who I am and what I have become make me that much closer to my God. While I will continue to debate the majority of you that want to believe that your God allows the pain and suffering in your life, I on the other hand continue to stick with my belief that if you believe in good, my God, then you must believe in evil, the devil. And I believe that there is horrific evil in this world that wants to win the war. I have seen over and over again families like ours that continue to get hit after hit, suffer more and more, and there is NO WAY that my God would cause this pain. On the other hand, God is there and for me, has given me so much comfort and support while allowing me to fight the evil warfare that ultimately took my son, and has threatened to cause further harm to my family, but we stand strong, because of our faith, and refuse to allow him to win again. Even though we lost the fight for Evan on this earth, Evan kept his eye on the prize and is living in nirvana, disease free, pain free, and perfect in every way. And as his mother, I am thrilled to know he is safe and warm and where we all will ultimately meet one day. And until then, I will continue to live this life, with all the vistas and valleys, good and bad, and know that I have my “eye on the prize” and that I am forever changed because of my perfect son, his journey, our suffering, and my amazing God.
A CB friend posted this just recently….
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
-- Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross is an amazing human being. She delved into areas of research that no man dare cross, death, and has given us great insight to this very real part of life. I remember clearly reading her book when I knew my sister was dying and placing it very clearly on my little bed in the corner of her hospital room to make sure people knew where we were at in the journey.
I find myself wanting to share so much and not having the time to do it. I need to write several times a week, and instead write to you in the middle of the night in my mind and never getting it down on paper.
After a four-day drive last week at Cal State Fullerton, a weekend of water polo, which you know we love, and a week of presentations, I did three separate ones today alone, and there is no relief in sight. I am thankful for my ability to multi task, to have good health to work out, to have the knowledge to fuel my body healthfully, to give attention to those in my life that need it, and to know the impact our journey with Evan is having on other people.
In the midst of all the tragedy I have witnessed in the last (almost) four years, and so much in the last few days, I find it remarkable to be able to move forward instead of being paralyzed by it. I am very aware of how fragile life is and am hopeful that I will never ever forget what I have witnessed, as I am forever changed for the better. As I told the 100 swimmers I spoke to today at an OC high school, I do wish I knew what I know now and could share the message with Evan by my side. Since I can’t, instead Evan and I go to work every day inspiring individuals like yourself to make a difference in this lifetime by sharing your vital resources and giving life.
I leave you with these lines from our friend Julie who is grieving the unexpected death of her younger brother….
"We can cry with hope,
We can say goodbye with hope
Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
And we can grieve with hope
Cause we believe with hope
...There's a place where we'll see your face again..."
Love to our entourage,
Evan’s Mom
