Meaning: a feeling of thankfulness, appreciation.
Next poses the question: What the hell does gratitude have to do with losing my son?
Am I to be grateful for the experience of watching him get sick and die before my eyes? Well, no, not initially. But, in the long term, after what seems to be an eternity of sleepless nights, heart-wrenching pain, panic, anxiety, depression, and the endless hours spent searching for answers, meaning, anything…yes. Even after crying an ocean of tears?, yes. Can Gratitude and Grief sit in the same chair together? Even get along? Yes.
I feel like I waited a long time for Colton. When he arrived I believed there was nothing more beautiful than this amazing child in my arms. That full head of dark hair and those gorgeous blue eyes! At 26, I was nervous but ready to raise the best little man that I could. He was never a problem, always such a joy to have with me. He grounded me, made me a better person than I would’ve been without him. Yes, it was a challenge. He seemed to never quite be in perfect health. Always a runny nose like a new puppy, or a fever. I was stuck trying to find out why, and there were many, many trips to the Dr.’s office or to the Emergency room when he was little. But we always persevered, the two of us.
When Colton was nearly three, I tried to give him a brother or sister but it was not to be, and I miscarried in the fourth month. At that moment, I knew that it was going to be just Colton and I against the world, but we had each other.
I did my best to instill in him the skills and lessons that he would need to be a happy and independent man, and he was. We had the love and the close-knit bond that I wanted and that I will always cherish. If there was something he wanted to tell me, he did. No matter how embarrassing or personal the questions were, I answered them as a mother, sometimes as a father, always with love and always with logic and truth. We had mutual trust.
It’s a helpless feeling when your child gets sick. After exhausting everything that you have in your skill set, you’re left with leaving it up to the professionals, and then you have nothing to offer but love and support. But, aren’t those things of the greatest importance anyway?
Was I a Good Mother? That is a loaded question to ask yourself. Of course, there are things that in hindsight I would’ve handled differently. Lots of things. But I wouldn’t have changed the relationship we had for anything, because nothing compares to it. I was told by so many of his friends that I was his favorite person, and of course there were lots of “love you momma” moments for me to treasure, but I still have doubts. Did I do absolutely everything in my power to save him? I believe so. It’s a tough pill to swallow that I will never know for sure.
There are so many memories of times that we shared. Movie nights, huge dinners {he was such a meat and potatoes boy!) and lots of times that he was there for me. He was my “pilot car” on the ten hour road trip to say goodbye to my father before he died. Even at his age, he was wise and always had a well thought out opinion when asked for it, gave it with a maturity, logic, and tact beyond his years. As if it’s not obvious here, I am an extremely proud mother.
They say a person can be judged by the company they keep, and what those people say about you. Never in my life had I seen such an outpouring of love and affection than that from his friends. It was a beautiful testament to who he was.
Colton knew how to show gratitude. In Hospice, he had decided to ask for medical assisted death. This was an option for him, however he would’ve had to go back to the hospital and he very much wanted to stay in Hospice. So, he opted for sedation. After the decision was made and he told those of us closest to him, he did a truly remarkable thing. He got up, walked up to each of us in the room, one by one, gave a hug, thanked them and told them he loved them. Then, when he got to me he said “and I love you most” as I held him. He tried to correct it momentarily by saying “I love you all the same” {with the others chuckling softly) but I said ” Ah but I heard you, and I’m taking it”. I was never more proud of him than I was in that moment. I still can’t believe that he did that. It was amazing.
In the three and a half years that have passed since he left, I have looked for things to be thankful for. I spent countless hours online researching grief, death, what happens when we die, what happens when we almost do (NDEs), and ways to survive, and even possibly thrive, as a bereaved mother. I researched what happens to those who are left behind. How do we change physically, emotionally, and spiritually when we lose a child? Grief is a powerful emotion, equal to Love, and has tremendous effects on us, our relationships, our families, our health, our mental health and our communities. It’s a big deal. And, it largely gets ignored.
Those that know me know that I have a deep love for the ocean and a deep love for my husband. The fact that we now live on the Island and I am able to stare at the ocean every day, good or bad, is an amazing blessing. The ocean relates to grief in many ways, the most obvious being that grief can wash over you like a tidal wave and sweep you off of your feet. But also, the lapping of the waves on the shore, the salt air, the seashells , the whales, and even the sound of it can soothe the soul. There is no place on earth that I would rather live, and for Randy and I, this is home. The transfer here meant that I was to be on leave for a time from work. Now, nearly a year has passed since we got here and my time at home has been an amazing gift. Not only did I take the opportunity to tend to a few health issues that I’d been ignoring, but it gave me the time to grieve properly that I did not take after Colton’s Celebration of Life. I’ve had a bit of an overhaul, if you will. It’s done me a world of good. There are some things in life, and in death, that cannot be forever swept under the carpet. The carpet of pain, shame, depression, isolation and anxiety. Grief is one of those things.
Over time, I’ve learned a lot about my own grief and how I react to it. I’ve also learned, sometimes unfortunately, how others react to it. Although it’s a universal thing, each person’s grief experience is unique. No one can do your journey for you, and no one is qualified to give you your own personal set of directions for the trip.
So, I am able to see my grief from a different perspective, with Gratitude. I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to know this sweet hearted, kind and generous person, my son. I learned more than I thought I’d ever need to know about a great many horrible things. I also learned more than I thought I’d ever need to know about a great many wonderful things. And maybe, if knowledge really is power, then maybe, just maybe, that makes me a little bit stronger.
Thank you, Colton, for being mine. I am so grateful that you are.