One week ago…
one whole week already.
exactly one week ago this moment I was laying in bed with my angel baby, Conner, dyeing of lung disease. One week ago my friends and pastors were in my house sending up prayers and giving us unconditional love. one week ago my friend Sonja was mixing morphine and lorazapam for my angel, so that his last breaths this side of heaven were pain free.
i remember it as if it were yesterday.
an entire week ago.
it’s now starting to sink in.
the shock is wearing off.
i’m a mess. an absolute wreck. this past week has been simply details. planning. sleeping a bit, eating even less and simply breathing. yesterday it was done.
i’ve learned of beautiful tributes to my son all over, and my heart is full of love. so intimate these lessons i’m now learning. i’ve never been a very good sharer…but with Conner it wasnt ever an option. his smile, his warmth, his passion and determination…it was beyond this world. i always knew that. wow that he chose me. wow that god trusted such an amazing soul to me. simply amazing.
i spent my day in line to buy 20 copies of today’s paper with conners tribute article in it. i went to starbucks where i burst into tears over a woman wearing a red shirt drinking her coffee. my heart flooded the countertops at the social security office as i took care of the business of his passing. i walked into target to purchase more sweats so the laundry piles could be allowed to pile up when the quiet comes and my stomach nearly made me vomit. i went to see Conner at his place, well our place when i get there to join him…and i felt still. i went to the bank to add a friend to our accounts because i’m in no condition to add 2 and 2 together. good thing too because i only had $9 in there! the lady asked if i was doing this because we were going out of town…my heart said i wish…but my mouth said simply “no my son passed away and my brain is done for now…” we cried together…complete stranger, unsuspecting bank teller and grieving mother.
a week ago.
my grief is so overwhelming.
really, truly a week without holding him. without kissing his warm, breathing lips. a week without seeing the rise and fall of his beautifully skinny chest. a week without endless treatments. a week without special feedings, morphine, nebulizers, vest therapies…a week without having to call the cf clinic. oh my god it’s been a week.
7 days without my 7 year old. oh my god…
hunter is taking this so hard. he’s balling unconsolably. his pain is so intense and so heartbreaking. how in the hell can a grieving mom even attempt to console a grieving child. a grieving brother. a best friend? “brudder hunter….”
i’m snappy with brad. i’m in a fog. a daze. i want space, but i don’t want anyone to leave. i crave quiet but nothing right now scares me more than quietness. my thoughts are overwhelming.
conners friends are struggeling now. and that breaks my soul. as an adult we get it. we know it hurts immensely but that one day it will get easier (this is what i’ve heard so far i don’t believe it!) but kids live in the now. they don’t know how to cope. and that is killing my heart.
conner is in my dreams each night, he’s in my mind all day long, and he’s talking to me constantly. but its such a tease. it’ll never suffice. he’s free. broken every chain that held him down…but now i’m left to pick up the pieces. i’m left to figure out tomorrow…and the next day…and the next. and i don’t know how to. i really don’t want to. the quietness is coming so quickly. i pray my children and husband can forgive me for whats to come. my world, my each and every day revolved around conner. his care, his med refills, calls to the doctors, insurance, pharmacies, daily online research, med after med after med, cleaning the nebs etc…they’ve stayed home while i took conner to the hospital or to clinic visits. when this quiet comes, how will i cope? how will i fill my time in a way thats worthy of it? those precious hours spent administering meds and life prolonging therapies was time fighting that damn disease…and now nothing seems worthy to fill that precious space.
my fight against this disease never seemed real until now. when you’re in the fight, with your kids or with yourself it seems like you’re fighting. but i tell you the truth…not until you’ve lost it will you ever truly know what it means to fight. your precious children, your precious parents, your precious bestfriends, your precious breaths my friends…i’m fighting so much harder now. truer. until my dyeing breath, oh that sweet last breath away from my angel baby, i will dedicate every free second of my life truly fighting this monster. raising awareness. raising funds. passing bills. talking to my senators and representatives. calling news media, writing a book my friends…WHATEVER IT TAKES!!!!! i will not end. until i end. and even then….
one short week ago. cf stole my conner reed. my angel. my fighter. my champion. my firstborn child. my light. my love. my hope. my determination. my everything…
looking at the clock in just over 30 minutes from now one short but LONG week ago my son took his last breath. one week ago brad and i were holding him close in our bed trying to talk him into leaving this world. he kept stopping breathing, then a minute later would gasp and again continue to breathe. such a generous boy, didnt want to hurt us. but we kept telling him to leave. we kept telling him jesus was there waiting for him. we kept telling him we’d be ok without him…one week ago.
“so far away from where you are. these miles have torn us worlds apart, and i miss you….”
“so far away from where you are. i’m standing underneath the stars…and i wish you were here….”
“i miss the years that were erased…i miss the way the sunshine would light up your face…
i miss all the little things….i never thought that they’d mean everything to me…. ya i miss you….and i wish you were here….” (lifehouse…from where you are)
i better go. i can’t be on here writing when his one week “anniversary” arrives…
oh conner angel…i wish you were here…but i know now that CF stands for CONNERS FLIGHT… love you.
love love love