Gene's Blog

So, parents and the loss of their children

I’ve had an experience now, twice, that no parent should ever have in their lifetime even once and it doesn’t get easier with repetition. In my opinion. I’ve written much here about my youngest son, Brandon, who suicided at 21, caught in the throes of meth. Both of my boys had asthma, severe, though Evan’s got worse as he got older. He, Evan, died on 10/14/10. Shortly after he went to sleep, still no word on the cause. He was still in excruciating pain every moment of every day, though his fight through that pain was worthy of admiration, and I did, the rest of what he’s done since his accident 18 months ago is grow stronger in every way.

His last several years were miserable for him, after he and his now ex-wife separated, he wasn’t able to see his kids so he drank, a LOT. April 23, 2009, he was in a horrible accident. He was very drunk but not driving. He underwent nearly 11 hours of surgery the first night, we were told he might not survive that because of his asthma. He did. He was in a coma for 6 weeks and he healed. He did every rehab assignment they gave him. He was still in tremendous pain which we were working on and which has to, after that much time, weaken one considerably. He had a lot of trouble with his asthma the last week. We were told last April that if he didn’t make some big changes his outlook wasn’t bright. 5 years one of them, doctor, said. He had to lose weight, stop smoking, and continue his rehab.

So, this event, since he’d made no real progress with his new regimen, wasn’t surprising completely because I’d been afraid of it since that diagnosis last spring. It was still a horrible shock and surprise because I thought we had him at least 5 more years and potentially a normal life span. Not being surprised is not the same thing as not being hurt. Apart from outings, I spent every Tuesday evening with him too while his mother worked, that week, as I left, I gave him a hug and told him I loved him. He said, I love you too, Dad. And made me promise to text him when I got home as he usually asked. Two days later he was gone. Those were his last words to me. I have to admit that has tears streaming down my face. He was my first-born, the most like me, and we got along in every way. We could, and did, always talk. He was the reasonable one, though some of that was just good acting, the good child, the easy baby, the easy toddler. I have a cell because he insisted. I would never have gotten one otherwise. He said I had to get into the 21 century, even if I had it just for emergencies. Then he proceeded to text me until I got a I text package too. He was wonderful to his last breath.

I think that is what these last 18 months gave him, not dying in that accident, was a chance to rebuild his life. And he did. He was so lonely a lot of the time and had to fight depression constantly, he felt and was so alone – stop drinking and your drinking “buddies” disappear. Which made me cry. But he kept going, he never gave up, though there were many times he wanted to. But in the past 18 months, he turned himself back into the son I’d fallen in love with a bit over 36 years ago when a nurse placed him in my arms a couple minutes after his birth. He was, despite his troubles, loving and cheerful for the most part. Willing to talk. Every other weekend (he started seeing his kids again in September – a HUGE milestone for him) since he got out of the hospital and was able to get out of the house, he and I would go see a movie and get a meal. I’d ask, text, and he’d always respond that sounds great dad. Which made me cry, I’ll tell you why. We’d go see a move, we saw lots of very good ones, eat and I drop him off and he’d be so glad we’d gone out. And so I’d cry all the way home again. This is why. For a man my age, 61, to have a best friend be so much younger isn’t unusual, particularly with parents, but it just broke my heart that he was so alone that he was happy to have my friendship and love. Someone his age should have been with friends, not their parent, and that is what made me cry.

It was a nice outdoor non-religious service. A LOT of people came, he only thought he was alone. And he may have had some portent as he had been getting in touch with people over the last couple months he hadn’t talked to in years. He WAS my best friend. I can’t imagine life without him in it anymore than when Brandon died. I, a month later, am still numb with shock. I feel like earth just after the asteroid that created the moon hit it. Off my game for sure. And I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. I think I am waiting for something that will never arrive. This time, the good news is that at 61 I won’t have as many years to miss him. God, I loved that boy. Both of them, but aching now for the one that stayed the longest with the hardest road to follow. I love you Evan, I always will.

If today brings even one choice your way,
choose to be a Bringer of the Light :^) gene