August 12, 2004

I read something in a book yesterday that landed on my heart with a thud. It was about not being able to help the dying, sometimes not being able to find a cure.
This revealed a seed in me, a grain of truth maybe. I’m still grieving not only the loss ~ the lack of presence ~ of my son, but I’m also grieving the fact that there was nothing I could do.

I see reports of moms who would NEVER give up. They fought their child’s illness and in many cases (these are news and magazine articles after all) her child overcomes. I did not. I accepted this fate for my son. Sure we tried to keep him healthy. We lived with this for so many years, but I knew I would see his end. For 28 years I knew, avoided thinking about, but knew this would happen ~ “No cure could be given”. I accepted the inevitable. And as he lay dying I accepted that this was another step down an unalterable path.

Every available detour had been taken. When he was three and a half years old he was started on insulin. When his blood sugar would dip too low we fought to raise it. He spent three years on dialysis. These were just some the detours that lengthened his journey with us, but in the end his path had to be rejoined. There were no more detours available and he died and there was nothing I could do. “No cure could be given.” We had to say good-bye…our paths diverged.
So my grief is not only that he is gone, but that I accepted it.

In my mind I KNOW this was (is) right but my heart looks back for ways I could have changed this outcome, and this adds to my grief. I have to accept that I accepted. To know that I comforted him much (not every time he needed, and that needs to be accepted, too).

God, I miss him so much. Please let that alone be my grief.