When your child dies you not only grieve their everlasting
loss and absence of their presence, but you also grieve the loss of the
possibilities and all of the hopes and dreams you had for your child. You
grieve the potential that will never be realized and the experiences they will
never share. When your baby dies, a part of the future dies along with
them.
It's now been 7 months without you. Over a half a year. It's so hard to even comprehend that you've been gone that long. :(
Yesterday on my way to work, I saw a little boy about
Cashy’s age playing in his front yard. He was spinning in circles and he had
his arms stretched out wide like he was pretending to be an airplane. He looked
so happy and full of life, and as soon as I passed by the house he zoomed off
in the front door. I instantly had tears rolling down my eyes, just from
seeing this little boy being a boy, living like he should, playing, getting
dirty, pretending that he could fly. I wanted nothing more than that
exact moment in time for you, for you to live like that boy does, to not have
pain and worry. To just be able to be you and carefree and fly around
with your arms out wide, and have the only worry in the world to be your untied
shoes on the wrong feet.
Will I always think of you as a 4 year old boy? Or will my idea of you age as the years go by? Will I look at 14 year old boys 9 years from now and think about how you should look at 14? Or will you always be my 4 year old angel? I don't know, seems like I don't know anything anymore.
Is this how's it's going to be for me forever? That every time I see a little boy I think of you Cashy, and I think of the loss we all have had by your absence. No more dried play dough balls to pick up, no more Matchbox cars to accidentally step on and almost roll my ankle (unless Sissy pulls them out), no more stickers stuck to everything in the house, no more baggies full of change laying around (yes, you loved putting money into baggies and carrying it around), no more empty change jug because you would always steal out all the money and put it in your baggies, now it’s getting full and every time I see it in the laundry room fuller and fuller my heart aches and resonates pain. I want it empty, in baggies, in your little hands.
What's even more sad is the loss your brother Colty has.
He's lost a confidant, a best buddy, a lifelong best friend. He
misses you so much buddy. Yesterday he told me that if he could make a
wish for anything in this world, he would wish for you to come back to us.
My heart sunk when he said that, as I figured he was going to say
something like he would want a new dirt bike or the latest cool new toy or
something. When he said that I just gave him a big hug and said, "Me
too buddy, me too." He has such a caring and kind heart.
Next Friday is your birthday buddy. June 21st, the
Summer Solstice baby. You would be 5 years old. It's crazy to even
think I gave birth to you nearly 5 years ago, and almost 3 of those years you
spent fighting cancer. How unfair this life is. I want to sit down
and have a heart to heart talk with the big man, the guy who makes all these
decisions on who lives and who doesn't live and ask him why you? Why my
beautiful little Cashy, my special boy who fought so hard to live, who wanted
nothing more than to be a normal boy and wear a backpack to school and pick out
his own clothes, and put on his own shoes (you always would put them on the
wrong feet, maybe it was more comfortable that way, I don't know, maybe
I'll try it one day, lol).
My sweet, sweet boy. Oh how I can close my eyes and
just imagine feeling your fuzzy head and bumpy scar next to my face. I
miss rubbing my fingers along your scar. That scar defined you. It
represents your courageous and bold battle you put forth. That scar was a true
battle wound, proving that not only that you were the "boy of steel"
but showing the world how strong and how much perseverance you had. How
you could overcome anything that was put in your way. The work that Dr.
Brockmeyer did under that scar left you blind for nearly two months.
Thankfully you regained your vision. There are so many things to be
thankful for when it comes to you Cashy. You truly are my hero, like I've
said so many times.
Every child changes the lives of his or her parents, in
birth, and death. Children show us new ways to love, new things to find
joy in, and new ways look to at the world. A part of each child's legacy is
that the changes he or she brings to a family continue long after their death.
The memories of joyful moments we've spent with you and the love we shared will
live on and always be part of all of us. Even though it hurts so bad to
have you gone from us, I want nothing more than your story and legacy to live
on forever. That's why we need all the help we can get with the
foundation. It's not a one man show, we need honest, true people who care
and want to make a difference to help us spread your story. We can't do
it alone and it's a lot of work.
Your daddy is always on the phone at
least once a day with parents who have children fighting many different kinds
of cancers and a lot of them are losing their battle and are nearing the end.
Others are just beginning and have long roads ahead of them.
Either way they need advice and they need to be put on the right path to make
their own fighter comfortable and to help make their child's battle easier and safer.
Your Daddy is doing such an amazing job with your
foundation. He has truly found his passion in life and is trying so hard
to keep your story alive and he's trying to make a real difference.
Today is Father's Day. If it’s anything like Mother's
Day was for me, for him, well then it's going to be a hard day without having
you here. You couldn't have asked for a better Daddy and I know he misses you
so much. We all love you Daddy.
Today Daddy, Colty, uncle Domo and Billy went boating and
Colty tried out his new wetsuit he had to have ( he's been asking for a wetsuit
for over a year now, he saved up some money and Domo paid for the rest of it).
He was so excited.
I read an article about a dad who lost his son to cancer.
He goes on about how there isn't a word for our loss as parents. A man
loses a wife he is a widower, a woman loses a husband she is widow, and a child
who loses their parents is an orphan. What do we call parents whom have
lost a child, their own flesh and blood? Well this man calls our group of
parents, "high functioning bereaved parent." I like that.
Except for the fact I don't feel high functioning, even though I CAN pull
myself out of bed, I CAN make myself eat, I CAN get dresses and showered. Some
people who lose a child can't and don't for a long time. I didn't have
that option. I had to go back to work 3 weeks after you passed, and take
care of a baby and an 8 year old as well. I still don't know how I did
that without being a complete mess.
I guess I'm really good at hiding my
pain and I've learned to shed tears alone, by myself. I do the best that
way, I keep my grief private. No one knows what to say when you break down
crying in front of them. It creates awkwardness; I don't like to do that,
although it has happened. Especially if I see a video of you or a picture,
sometimes the tears just flow. All my close girl friends have moved away,
some call once in awhile, a text here and there. Everyone has their own
lives to live. No one wants to spend their precious time in my drowning
sea of grief. I don't blame them. That's why when people ask how I
am, I lie. I say, "Not bad", or "I'm doing good."
It's better than, "oh I’ve been better; I did just buried my son after
watching him die a slow agonizing death." The later answer is
preferred.
It's all just so unreal and utterly unimaginable.
Unimaginable in a way that I still can't believe you died in Daddy’s arms and
you’re now buried twelve feet in the ground in Salt Lake City. Maybe I’m
still in that phase of grief where life is just a giant fog. But I don't want
to live that way. I want to cherish every memory with you, I want to
remember the good times, the laughter, your giggles, the 4 birthdays that we
got to spend with you here, and your sweet voice telling me that I'm,
"Cashy's momma."
We got back from Salt Lake City on Tuesday night around
11:30 after staying in west Yellowstone Monday night. We drove through
Yellowstone and made the stop just in time to see Old Faithful blow. Colty sure
thought that extra cool. Sissy and I caught the flu bug and she started
throwing up Monday on the drive and, Tuesday I stared throwing up.
Luckily it was only a 24 hour bug and we recovered. Ugh, I hate
vomiting. I'm sure you can second me on that one. You were such a trooper
when you threw up. I could always tell when you were gonna upchuck. You
would make this "o" face and a weird noise and seconds later it would
be all over, but Daddy and I got pretty darn good at catching it in the bucket.
But once you puked in the bucket you wouldn't want to keep puking in it
and you'd push it away, sometimes making a mess. You were such a
character.
The documentary premiere in SLC went really well and the
former Mayor of Salt Lake, Rocky Anderson attended the premiere. He got
up and did a big speech after the movie. He was very impressed with the
show and he shook my hand and told me we were doing such great things and that
you were a true hero.
We got to visit your grave everyday and I brought you a
Lightening McQueen car that I got at Toys r Us. I knew you'd like it!
We snuck into the cemetery at 10 that night to bring you it. I even
caught a picture with an orb hovering over your grave. ;) There is now
grass covering your grave, setting in the reality that the months are going by
and everyday is another day we are without you.
We were to finalize the wording and pictures that we are
using for your tombstone. They are charging us 3 thousand dollars just to
engrave it, so it might be another 7 months before the tombstone even gets put
up. :( I'm sorry buddy, this whole cancer thing had really put a toll on our
finances and it’s like we can never catch a break and catch up. One
garnishment after another. Maybe you should go and spook a few of those
creditors for me! Lol.
(See the orb hovering over Brooke)
Well I'm on my 3rd night of 6 twelve hour shifts in a row.
Then on Wednesday we leave for San Francisco again. This time with the
kiddos, but we’re flying instead of driving like we did last year. At this
point I'm not sure what's worse. The 20 hour drive or 4 hours on two
different planes with a busy one year old. Lol.
We will be renting a house for the week, and on Thursday we
will be doing another premiere of the documentary with United Patients Group,
John and Corinne have taken it upon themselves to set this viewing up and were
all really excited to keep sharing your story even if it’s one person at a
time, because that means It's one person who didn't know about your courageous
battle and they now do, which also means they will most likely tell at least
one more person about you, and that's what we want! Thank you John and
Corinne for your dedication and your hearts of gold! We love you guys!
Friday we will be celebrating your birthday all day and will
be donating Reggae Runners to some local children's hospitals in your honor.
Then in the evening were going to go down to the beach and light off a
bunch of Japanese floating lanterns in your honor as well. I bought 70 of
them!!! I'm sure we won't use nearly that many but just in case! :) I
sure would love it if other people would light off lanterns and candles for you
that night well and maybe takes pictures and share. It hurts my heart to
even think we will be celebrating without you this year as last year we were in
San Fran and would never have thought even the slightest that you wouldn't be
here this year to celebrate. God I wish I would have thrown you the
mother of all party's last year. Bouncy houses, clowns, balloon animals,
whatever you would have wanted I would have gotten it for you. You probably
would have hated it though. Lol, you weren’t much for big commotion and chaos.
God I miss you buddy.
Often times I see this projection screen in my mind of what
your normal cancer free life should look like; going potty on the big potty and
wearing big boy undies, birthdays, riding a bike without training wheels, first
day of school, first loose tooth, hunting elk with your Daddy and your big
brother, soccer practices, swimming lessons, telling a bully off at school because
he was picking on your sister, girlfriends, your first broken heart, prom, high
school and college graduation, your wedding day, your first born child. I
picture what you would look like as a grown boy, a teenager, a grown man, a
father. There are so many things you've been robbed of because of cancer
and it isn't fair. I'm so sorry we couldn't save you.
Well that's it for the night. My heart is swollen with
grief for the loss of you my sweet boy. I will never fully recover from
this. I don't think I would ever want to. I will live with the sting of
losing you forever as it reminds me of all the good times we've shared. I
hope you’re safe, I hope you’re doing everything you ever wanted to up in
heaven. Oh and by the way, thank you so much for looking out for your
uncle Joey when he rolled his truck 4 times and flew out the driver’s door on
Thursday. You saved his life and I know it was you with him. So thank you.
Goodnight. Sleep tight and watch over your brother and
sissy for me. Love you to the moon and back, to infinity and beyond, forever
and ever. One love.
Momma.
