Photo Credit: jessica mullen via Compfight cc
If you’ve been living with loss of a loved one, you’ve probably discovered that it’s a process. I’ve been in this process for almost six years now, and I’m still amazed by the things I keep learning. Like just yesterday.
I was rummaging through the closet in my home office. The mission was to scan and toss all the old files that are no longer relevant. And, then it happened. There before me, several large folders filled with yet more of my son’s medical records.
When you have a child with a disability, you save everything because you never know when a doctor, psychologist, therapist, or even lawyer is going to ask you for a date, time, or diagnosis. We have mounds of paperwork that represent Michael’s journey.
I take a quick glance through the first record, and quickly snap the folder shut.
September 1st marks the beginning of a 17-day journey down memory lane. Memories I wish I could erase. Memories about the last 17 days of my son Michael’s life.
The loss of a child is one of the hardest things that any parent endures. It’s been four years now. Some things are easier. It’s true what they say about time. I can’t say that time heals all, but it does toughen the scar. Yet, every year, on September 1st, I begin the day by looking at the clock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. I remember the exact moment in time when I received the call that Michael was in trouble. And the moment of his words, I love you and dad. The shock of code blue/red, whatever. And that final black hole I fell into when he took his last breath. All those horrid memories flooding in, and my wishing I could have stopped time, turned back the clock. If only I could have done or said something different that would have reversed the circumstances. Even still, I have these thoughts. Not only through the September days of mourn, but each and every morn.