Would I have Wanted Him to Suffer

Numerous thoughts permeate the mind of the grieving mother. Random thoughts. Warped thoughts. Angry thoughts. Sad thoughts. Questioning thoughts.
Would I have changed the way that he died if I had a choice?
Meaning this: not change the fact that he died. That's a given, of course. If I could do anything to bring him back, I would. If I could live my own life in a 4 X 4 cell eating nothing but bread and water knowing that he was alive and well, I would.
No, the question that goes through my mind is this one. Would I have rather known he was going to die so that I could have had the time to say goodbye?
In case you haven't read my posts about the loss of my son, he died completely unexpectedly in his sleep. We had no warning. He went to bed "healthy" and died sometime during the night. He was thirteen.
No chance to say goodbye.
No warning.
The trauma of finding him.
Would I have rather he had cancer? Would I have rather we went to the doctor and they said, "The outlook is grim." ? Would I have wanted him to suffer simply so I could have more time with him?
I have a friend who is watching her sweet two-year old suffer. He has brain cancer.
Yet, she has hope. There is still a chance for a miracle. There is still time to talk to her child. There is still time to hug her child, to love her child, to see a glimpse of his beautiful smile.
The morning my son died all hope died.
Selfishly, I would say I would want to have had a chance to try to save him. I would have wanted to say goodbye. Yet, no, I wouldn't want him to suffer. I remember seeing him cry tears of fear and pain when he was little getting an x-ray, getting a shot, feeling sick. But at least I could hug him and try to make him feel better.
Of course, this speculation is a moot point. My son is gone. And I had no choice in the matter.
Photo credit: my own
+Grief +Grieving-mother +Nolan

originally published on Bubblews 11/13/14

Up in Smoke, a poem

My dreams of the future have gone up in smoke
Three brothers are now two
Three brothers that should have grown up together
Two brothers had to bury the other

Five rowdy siblings in a crowded house
Where space was limited
Yet love and laughter were abundant
Now there's more space and less laughter

Five high school graduations, college applications
Weddings and children and jobs
Brothers as best men, as godfathers
Years of always there for each other

I, in my old age, surrounded by my five children
And their husbands and wives and children
Content as I grow old
A heart swollen with love and pride

Instead my beloved child has died
My world has crumbled
My heart now has a gaping hole
My dreams of the future have gone up in smoke

photo credit: my own +Poetry +Jillybean1222-poetry +Grief +Grieving-mother

My Dad and my son

My dad is a wonderful grandfather. He loves each of his grandchildren dearly. I feel so blessed when I watch him with my children. He always had a special spot for Nolan. Oh, I am sure he has a special spot for each of the grandkids. But there was a special bond between him and my son. They would talk about coin collecting, play the piano together, talk about scouts, music, birds. It was beautiful.
When Nolan died, one of the hardest things I had to do was call my parents. How do you deliver such awful news over the phone? I opted to call my dad on his cell phone rather than my mom. I thought it would be "easier" for some reason. One of the many things from that horrific day that will forever be burned in my memory is telling my dad and hearing him scream "no!" then crying to my mom that Nolan was dead. Then she was screaming too. The agony in their voices was so immense.
My dad has always been a sort of poet. Every year he writes a Christmas poem in the family Christmas letter. He'll jot down other little rhymes here and there. After Nolan's death, he wrote a beautiful poem to honor Nolan. I'd like to share it with you. Not only will you read the love of grandfather for grandson, but you will also get a sense of who Nolan was.
Poem for Nolan
by Winston Johnson
When I see an eagle
In beautiful flight
A natural wonder
A natures delight,
I'll think of our Nolan
Who loved things so right.
And watching them soar,
With all of their might.
When I see a boy,
With a sly impish grin
And a trick deck of cards,
Or a tack or a pin,
I'll think of Nolan,
Who joked with his kin
And really, at times,
Was ornery as sin.
When I see a young man,
With a smile on his face.
Helping his mother,
With love and with grace.
I'll think of our Nolan,
With never one trace
Of bad in his heart -
Nor any disgrace.
When I hear a piano,
Swaying away.
To "Away in a Manger"
Asleep on the hay.
I'll think of our Nolan,
And our Christmas day -
The joy he would bring,
As he'd grin and he'd play.
When I'm on the prairie,
Out there alone -
No cars passing by,
No TV, No phone.
I'll think most of our Nolan.
In hills of Flint stone,
I'll bet he can hear me.
Out there in God's zone.
When I see a boy scout,
Show red, white, and blue
And make his folks proud
Of whatever he'll do,
I'll think of our Nolan
And how he just grew
To be a young man
So straight and so true.
Whenever I'm stuckin
The muck and the mire
And later I'm struggling
Right down to the wire.
I'll think of Nolan laughing
And I shall move higher
To a place warm as toast
Like a warm, cozy fire.
Photo Credit: My own
Poem Credit: with Permission, by my dad, Winston Johnson
+Grief +Grievingmother +Grieving-mother +Poetry

St Patrick's Day without You

sad days.... always sad days

here's a post from my other blog
http://www.bubblews.com/news/9898691-missing-him-a-little-extra-today

a dream of you

I had the best dream last night. It was the sort of thing I have wished for every night since losing my precious thirteen-year old son, Nolan, just over two years ago. Dreams have a tendency to fade away. Therefore, I want to write it down before I forget it and the feelings it evoked in me.
I actually only remember about five to ten seconds of the dream, but they were a beautiful five to ten seconds.
The Dream
As I entered the unfamiliar room that was supposed to be my home, I noticed an image of Nolan on the window. The reflection illuminated for just a brief moment before fading away. I turned to my husband who was seated in a chair to ask if he had been holding a picture of Nolan. When he said no, I asked the children if they had to which they said no. Just then, in the corner of the room, Nolan appeared to be sitting. I saw him and happily said, "Nolan!" He jumped up with a huge smile and so much enthusiasm as he bounded across the room to me. He said, "Mom!" I felt so happy. He reached me and we hugged so tightly. He said something like "Finally," as though he had been waiting and waiting for me to notice his presence. As he grabbed my hand, I looked at the family to see if they saw him, which they did not. He slowly started to fade away. The last thing I felt was the pressure of his hand in mine. Although he was gone once more, I felt at peace knowing that he truly was always with me.
It was a beautiful dream.
Photo: mine +Grief +Grieving-mother +Nolan

Jealousy is Ugly

yet another story being shared of a child who we are praying for who is getting better. 

it's not that I don't want that child to get better.

I do.

I just don't understand why we couldn't get a miracle.  I don't understand why we didn't even have a chance.  My son died in his sleep with no warning.  How the hell is that fair?

I Love You Mom

 here is a link to my other blog:

http://www.bubblews.com/news/9837907-my-son039s-last-words-to-me