Warning: this
post may not be pleasant to read.
One of my goals in sharing my feelings on this site is to help myself,
my friends, my family, and maybe other parents in the same situation understand
what I am going through. Part of
that involves being honest. So,
maybe it will be unpleasant for some, but it will definitely be honest.
Since Max’s death, we have been inundated with love and
support from our family, friends, and even quite a few strangers. I will be eternally grateful for the
kind things that people have done for and said to us over the past few
weeks. People gave up their lives
to help us get through ours. Our
house has been full of food, hugs, play mates for Ethan, and even laughter on
occasion. It has been nothing
short of amazing to realize how loved Max was by everyone in our lives, and how
loved Scott, Ethan, and I are as well.
Friendships have grown, relationships have become stronger, and I’m a
hell of a lot more affectionate than I ever was before! We’ve received cards every day since
Max died, and we even got a package from California full of Green Lantern
merchandise for Ethan (really, Melissa, just “a little something”?!?!). We’ve gotten heart wrenching letters
from other families who have experienced this most horrible type of loss, and
I’ve made many new friends who, unfortunately, know exactly what I’m going
through. Something that has really
surprised me is the amount of people I know who have shared similar stories
with me about losing their own children.
I didn’t even know that most of these children ever existed. I am so sorry for that. I’ll never be able to thank everyone
for the comfort that they’ve given us, and I know that most of them don’t
expect a thank you card. These
acts of kindness and love have gotten us through our worst days, and they will
continue to do so.
Now, the unpleasant part…I’ve also been quite surprised by
how some people have reacted to Max’s death. I have seen people I know look at me and turn the other way
to avoid having to talk to me.
People I would normally say hi to and chat with for a few minutes. I can’t tell you how much that
hurts. I know that it is not done
out of malice; I know that these people do this because they don’t know what to
say or do. I understand that. I don’t know how I would react if roles
were reversed, but I’d like to think that I would acknowledge the pain and loss
of someone so important rather than avoiding it because it makes me feel
uncomfortable. We had “friends”
who didn’t show up to the visitation or memorial services. I don’t know why because they also
didn’t bother calling, texting, emailing, or even sending a Facebook message to
let us know that they were thinking about us despite not being able to attend
services. This isn’t about keeping
score or holding grudges. It’s
about how people treat each other.
Consider this: My son was
ripped from my life, and all I have left is a gaping, nagging, aching
hole. And it makes you uncomfortable? I planned a life for Max and our family
that will never happen, and it makes you uncomfortable? I frantically performed CPR on my dead
son, and it makes you uncomfortable? I ran his lifeless body down a flight
of stairs and handed him to a firefighter in desperation, and it makes you uncomfortable? I begged and pleaded with God to save
my son, even though I knew he was gone, and it makes you uncomfortable? I
hugged and kissed his dead body, caressed his face, and combed my fingers
through his hair before his 12-pound body was cremated, and it makes you uncomfortable? How utterly selfish and shameful of
you. How thoughtless and
uncaring. How do you think I feel?!?!? Next time, instead of avoiding me out of your feelings
of discomfort and awkwardness, just give me a hug and tell me that you are so
sorry for my loss. You might be
surprised by how much comfort I get from these tiny acts of kindness.
Okay, I’m done with that rant. To end on a positive note: our friends, family, and strangers who have put aside their
feelings of discomfort or awkwardness to spend time with us talking and crying—you have made all the difference in the
world to us. I can’t say thank you
enough. And thanks for not walking
the other way when you see me. J
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