Answers and Direction

I almost didn’t post that last post.  I have been afraid that posts as of late have been too heavy or sad.  Then, I realized, it’s the journey and that’s what this is about.  I’m not always going to have a wonderful metaphor or uplifting wrap-up.  I won’t always be eloquent and articulate.  This path is smooth at times, but it’s also rocky, bumpy, turns, and sometimes looks and feels like an Escher.


Today is an easier day.  I was awake through most of the 3AM hour (that’s when the neurostorming stopped and we knew his life was done).  Then, I slept.

I’ve awakened today on what many would assume to be the most difficult.  The day he was declared brain dead.  The 16th is actually much harder.  So is the 12th…and everyday in between.  The 12th is the day my heart was ripped out, trampled, stabbed, overdosed, electrocuted, and almost bled dry.  It then stayed out of my body until the wee hours of the morning on the 17th.  At 10:15 on the night of the 16th, it started to be stitched back together and bandaged.  Five hours later, it was put back in my chest.  We had our answer as to how this would play out.  The waiting was over.

I operate well under pressure, especially time constraints.  This day, nine months ago, was full of prepping to tell the herd what had happened.  It was calling funeral homes, finding a casket, calling family and close friends, getting in our last snuggles with his now cold head, and lots of organ donation information.  We even met a little 7 month old heart recipient.  The 17th was the first day of finding our new normal.  We were in the thick fog that settles after death and couldn’t see beyond the moment and there was much to do.  The 16th was still limbo and then it was hell as our answer came at 10:15PM.

So, like I said, there’s days for all grieving parents.  The 17th is a bit easier than the 16th for us as parents.  It works well for us as parents because it’s hell day for the kids.  None of it is even close to okay, but we get by.

So, thank you to those who aren’t scared by our Escher kind of life.


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