Posts tagged loss of a child

Apathy- Haibun Challenge

I lost a precious, healthy 15-year-old while he was playing ball seven years ago. At first there were the disgusting “grief addicts” who actually came to my door and introduced themselves, all to give their “condolences”. I got critically ill because of his death, and felt that everyone was already “over” feeling sorry for my family. Life went on for everyone but me, even in my family, and I understand, I really do, but it still hurt-it hurts today when no one remembers the day and I feel like I am dying.

Some of my kids had just married, some married soon after, I’m now expecting my 7th grandchild when I had none when I lost my son. I lived, after finally convincing doctors that it wasn’t “just grief” (grief is a “JUST??”By that time, they told me I had three weeks to live. I have continued to be ill, Suffer from the results of misdiagnosis, (which, along with inadequate slow medical care, cost my son his life).

I live in pain, physical and emotional. Apathy is real, but I am afraid it is true that we cannot bear the burden for everyone-perhaps a select few. The agony of it would kill us. Even temporary condolence, even an occasional, “I remember” is nice. I suppose that is all we can expect.

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Don’t Forget those who have Lost Children!

Ok, it has been seven years since my precious son suddenly ran toward me, collapsed on the ball field as I got to him and never regained consciousness. It has been seven years since who ever called 911 did not stay on the line or give proper directions. Seven years ago, I stood stunned as someone who called themselves a nurse ran up, but never did anything a nurse would do. He would be 22 in a few weeks.

The Fire Department was in sight of the Ball Park, so I know that they did not get the call or proper directions. The first responders in this area-the Fire Department are lightning fast and wonderfully trained. I know they did not get directions that we were in the ball park right below them. If they had, my son would not be dead. It was 10-12 minutes until an ambulance came from town and I was forced to watch my beautiful healthy son dying. In the ambulance , they were defibrillating him. In the hospital, they worked on him an hour.

His life was lost for negligence, my life, health, faith and future were ruined. My family will never stop suffering. Few light candles on his memorial site anymore, The mementos of his grave have slowed down. He is still dead, for nothing. I have almost died five times. Please do not forget those who have lost children. They never forget-you shouldn’t either.

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When I Let You In

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My precious son, I do it nearly every day.  People as me why I put myself through it-looking at your handsome young face only weeks before you were so wrongly taken.
I have thought about it many times, Andrew.  It rips my heart into. It reminds me of the failure of what I felt was a holy vow.  I think of you there in the chair in your room, shouting out, “Mamma, I love ya, Mame!” time after time.

I hear your little brother crying because you got the red ball when it hit the goal and your dad shouted at you and you loudly complain, “It’s always me!”

Yes, it is.” His voice reverberates through me. I hear your father’s remark, (hating it). “No, it isn’t,” my heart screams.

It got so old, that tired comment, The one he yelled  to every one of you when a younger sibling complained.

So why do I have your picture as my home screen on the computer, smiling at me, unknowing, hopeful, happy, healthy. It’s so simple, really. I touch your hair, brush it with my fingers, trace the line of your eye brows, circle the shape of your eyes, just like mine.  I remember the tiny chicken pox scar on the top of your nose, see the way your top lip is shaped in a perfect bow-the bottom lip full and sensuous.

I use my finger as a magical pen and draw your shirt collar, the tendons in your neck, the shape of your chin that made your face so perfect. I gently track the outline of your ear, as I often did when I played with your hair. I rub the soft pink of your cheeks, see the tiny “out of line” placing of your teeth that no one but me would notice.
I hear your father’s remark, (hating it).
And for just a moment, one soft breath, you are here where you belong and I am alive and life is worth living. It is all I have. The pain is worth it.

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Alone

Morning may come with clouds of deep gray.
Or might dawn with azure skies and fluffy clouds.
Dusk may find a sky awash with indescribable colors.
Or perhaps with sky is filled with the softness of gentle snow.
I rarely notice anymore, it doesn’t matter.
My heart, my soul is dead within me.
Without you it is just another time to endure,
Another tear to dry and try to push on.
For so many years, I have endured this hell,
That it is expected, I brace for it, harden my heart.
There isn’t even a word for one who has lost a child.
You aren’t a widow, orphan, divorcee.
No word can describe the emptiness, the pain.
You are simply, forever, alone.

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