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Saturday, February 4, 2017 5:33 AM CST
13 years. I still see you in everything around me. The rainbow that appears in the back yard, the crows that sit on the fence and call to me. I see you in the freckles on James’ face and in the silliness of Sammy’s laugh. I feel you in strength and stillness that is Aidan. The more I see of you, the more I feel you, the more I miss you.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012 1:04 PM CDT
Aidan is shaving his head for Shave for the Brave on April 27th. Please support him!
http://yacc.convio.net/site/TR/SchoolShaves/General?px=1005582&pg=personal&fr_id=1274
Wednesday, February 4, 2009 9:06 AM CST
Made chocolate chip pancakes for Aidan and Sammy for breakfast today. I covered them in whipped cream and syrup and thought of Conor every second. 5 years is an incredibly long time not to see my boy or hold him or smell him or hear his laugh and feel his arms around my neck and hear his squeaky voice say "so mom whatyouwanttodotoday?"
Still haven't figured out what I want to do today but i'm sure Aidan and Sam will think of lots of fun stuff to do to celebrate being little boys and to remember Conor.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008 4:08 PM CST
The Gap
by Michael Crenlinsten
The gap between those who have lost children and those who have not is
profoundly difficult to bridge. No one, whose children are well and intact can be expected to understand what parents who have lost children have absorbed and what they bear. Our children come to us through every blade of grass, every crack in the sidewalk, every bowl of breakfast cereal. We seek contact with their atoms, their hairbrush, their toothbrush, their clothing. We reach for what was integrally woven into the fabric of our lives, now torn and shredded. A black hole as been blown through our souls and, indeed, it often does not allow the light to escape. It is a difficult place. For us to enter there is to be cut deeply, and torn anew, each time we go there, by the jagged edges of our loss. Yet we return, again and again, for that is where our children now reside. This will be so for years to come and it will change us profoundly. At some point in the distant future, the edges of that hole will have tempered and
softened but the empty space will remain – a life sentence.
Our friends will change through this. There is no avoiding it. We grieve for our children, in part, through talking about them and our feelings for having lost them. Some go there with us, others cannot and through their denial and a further measure, however unwittingly, to an already heavy burden. Assuming that we may be feeling "better" six months later is simply "to not get it." The excruciating and isolating reality that bereaved parents feel is hermetically sealed from the nature of any other human experience. Thus it is a trap – those whose compassion and insight we most need are those for whom we abhor the experience that would allow them that sensitivity and capacity. And yet, somehow there are those, each in their own fashion, who have found a way to reach us and stay, to our comfort. They have understood, again each in their own way, that our children remain our children through our memory of them. Their memory is
sustained through speaking about them and our feelings about their death. Deny this and you deny their life. Deny their life and you no longer have a place in ours.
We recognize that we have moved to an emotional place where it is often very
difficult to reach us. Our attempts to be normal are painful and the day to day carries a silent, screaming anguish that accompanies us, sometimes from moment to moment. Were we to give it its own voice we fear we would become truly unreachable, and so we remain "strong" for a host of reasons even as the strength saps our energy and drains our will. Were we to act out our true feelings we would be impossible to be with. We resent having to act normal, yet we dare not do otherwise. People who understand this dynamic are our gold standard. Working our way through this over the years will change us as does every experience – and extreme experience changes one extremely. We know we
will have recovered when, as we have read, it is no longer painful to be
normal. We do not know who we will be at that point or who will still be with
us.
We have read that the gap is so difficult that, often, bereaved parents must attempt to reach out to friends and relatives or risk losing them. This is our attempt. For those untarnished by such events, who wish to know in some way what they, thankfully, do not know, read this. It may provide a window that is helpful for both sides of the gap
--
Tuesday, December 18, 2007 10:05 PM CST
Hey Billy. Mommy is missing you so much. I wish you could see how Aidan is growing and turning into such a little man. You'd be so proud of how he takes care of little Sammy and of Mommy too. I love to watch how Sammy adores Aidan, just like Aidan adored you..they love to jump on Mommy and have Mommy sandwhiches...Sammy is so beautiful. He reminds me so much of you sometimes, though all three of you are so much alike! Sammy likes to stand on my hip when I am carrying him. It makes me think of all the times you would hook you arm around my neck and get me to pick you up and you'd say "let's go lofty!" Sammy love to play trains! I had put all the thomas trains and track away about a year ago when aidan was starting to play them less and less. Then a few weeks ago aidan asked for them and we took them all out and thats all thats been played with since. Sammy loves to go up there when aidan is playing and pick up the tracks and steal the trains right off the tracks! Aidan gets so mad at him! but in a fun and laughing way - just like you used to when aidan would crawl all over your well laid out tracks. Its give me so much to see all the kids come over and play with your Thomas trains. Sammy loves the troublesome trucks especially the laughing ones. You didn't get to see those...Aidan got those last year...its sad to think Santa probaly won't be bringing any new Thomas stuff this year...hopefully next year Sammy will ask for some. I must be the only 30 year old that loves to sit and look through the new thomas catolgue and say "got it, got it, need it, want it, got it..." just like you used to. Who was more excited about it? you or me :)...
You are never far from my thoughts. Today Aidan looked out side at the swing set and said "mom do you think that there is some one we can't see swinging on the swings and making them move like that?" I smiled at him and told him that when I see the swings move like that I like to think its you out there swinging with your friends. Aidan liked that and said, I should be out there swinging with Conor. I am always so amazed how much he remembers you adn talks about you. He was upset with me last week when I went to see Bon Jovi and didn't take him. Just like you I have made him a fan - well either that or brainwashed him! hehe.... He loves one of the new songs "We've got it going on". Its kind of the new "Its my life" . The concert was just as good as I thought it would be and I could feel you there with me when everyone was yelling and screaming and singing "It's my life" It wasn't quite the backyard concert you had wished for me, but it was pretty awesome. It was hard for me, for a long time to listen to those songs we loved so much, its getting easier and bringing me some happiness again. I love you Conor. I miss you. Did I tell you today? I LOVE YOU!
Mom xoxo
Thursday, October 18, 2007 10:57 PM CDT
Today I baked a cake for an eight year old boy that doesn't exist. I bought balloons with Happy birthday written on them and a train that an eight year old would say "ah mom, that's for babies"...but I have no idea what Conor the eight year old would like because I never got a chance to know. He never got the chance to know...the myth is that time heals and that with time it gets easier, but I disagee, with time it gets harder. Time is a reminder of what is not and what will not be. Time is a still passing when in my mind it is standing still. Where in my mind i am the mother of a four year old Conor. My oldest boy is a year younger than his younger brother. Today is Conor's birthday, I really didn't and don't know what to do about that.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007 11:01 AM CDT
Shortly after Conor was born I bought a baby book for him, and written inside as one of the quotes was "Son's are the anchor's of a Mother's life". I immediately identified with this as the moment Conor was born, perhaps even long before that, in the months he lay beneath my heart, he changed me. He changed everything about me and made me a person I had always wanted to be. He became that solid place in my life that always kept me grounded. My life for him and the love I felt from him kept me firmly anchored in my life. Everything became important and everything from that moment on became about him, and what I could do to make his life the best it could be. A few years later when conor became sick this proved even more true. It was Conor I often turned to to give me strength, he was the one that often comforted me, wiped away my tears and told me "its going to be ok mom". Often it was him holing my hand and not me holding his. After Conor died, I felt the weight of that anchor pulling me to him, I was lost I just wanted to be with him, near him. Everything in me just wanted to lay down and just let the weight of my grief pull me to him. But there was Aidan. Beautiful, strong, amazing Aidan. Just as strong as the pull was to follow Conor, there was the strength of Aidan reminding me that it wasn't what I was supposed to do. Aidan became that Anchor that was holding me steady in this life. It wasn't long after that, I found the full version of that same quote "Sons are the anchor's that hold a mother to life" by Sophecles. Agian it was so true for me, it really hit me that although I felt the weight of my grief pulling me to Conor, Aidan was holding me here. Firmly in place where I needed to be. Aidan kept me anchored here all by himself for a long time, and when Sam came along I could see some of that taken off him. Samuel and Aidan together share and incredible bond and I can see and I can feel Conor in the strength of their bond. I have been incredibly lucky in my life have these three amazing sons that have given me more that I ever thought was possible to have. They are my anchors, my joy. My life. Yesterday I got a new tattoo that signifies this and I have never been so proud.
I am missing Conor like crazy every day. I feel him all around me every day, and I just know he is close. Having his name there for everyone to see will give me a chance to talk about him and share his life with others.
I love my boys. My Conor, My Aidan, My Sammy. My Anchors. My life.
Friday, January 26, 2007 7:36 PM CST
Its been so long since I updated that I had trouble remembering the password for the site!
I just wanted to share the good news of our new son's birth. Samuel Fox Ford (though for some reason aidan prefers to call him Rocky) was born Wednesday Janurary 24th at 5:23 a.m. Everything went well and I had lots of wonderful support with me to welcome samuel into the world. Aidan was even on hand, though some what groggy, he slept from about 2 a.m to 5 a.m but awoke as they were placing Sameul on my belly. He is one very happy BIG brother. He refused to even entertian the idea that I may have a girl and was sure in the fact we would have a boy and he would have a baby brother. He was right :).
Samuel was the biggest of my boys at 9lbs 3oz. Conor was the smallest at 7lbs 9oz and Aidan in the middle at 8lbs 3oz. It is wonderful to have a little baby in the house again, and its somewhat overwhelming to see Aidan in his new role as a big brother. Conor's presence was felt many times throughout the night during Samuels birth and even more so as we got in the car Wednesday afternoon to go home and the first song that came on the stereo was "its my life".
Thank you so much for your well wishes and sharing in our joy.
Kristy
Friday, February 24, 2006 8:13 AM CST
Conor. Thank you. I know not everyone else will know what I am talking about but you do and I do, and well, I just wanted to let you know how much it means to me to know that you are here with me. I am sorry that I couldn't always find a way to believe that but now i am certain.
I still miss you though. I miss smelling your breath and hearing your giggle and hearing "sowhatchawannadotodaymom?". And for some reason, my personal favorite "NOTHING ON MY BED!"
Aidan and I had tea yesterday. I made it in your little blue tea pot. As I was making it, I was wondering just how many 3 year old boys owned their own tea pots and cups and saucers, and held REAL tea parties. Remember the time you made tea for all the nurses? And they actually drank it? THat was truely an act of extreme kindness on their part. I remember you putting tablespoons of sugar, a dab of tea, and a spot of milk into those cups...and each one of them drank the whole bit :).
Remember when you were just little, barely 2 and you put your arms around me and said 'your my best friend mom'? I still think of that moment, and feel you little arms around my neck and your sticky sweet smell. Your excitement for everyone and everything. How you drew people to you and near you and made everyone smile.
I was thinking of Mr. Teddy the other day. Of how much you loved him and how much I miss him. I've given up searching for him, I figure if I am meant to have my own Mr. Teddy then it will come to me someday, somehow. I remember all that Mr. Teddy went through. He was pooped on , peeded on, puked on, bled on, jumped on, poked at, and hugged and loved more than any other teddy i know of. I saw the love that you gave to that Teddy and how he was always there for you and it occured to me that was pretty much how we all were with you and with us. Everyone of us who loved you had been pooped on, puked on, peeded on and jumped on and poked and and you loved us just as much and we you. Whats a bit of puke between those you love? I keep remembering that. How much love you had to give and how much love you were given.
I miss you Billy. Silly Billy Stinky Butt. Momma misses you...
before I go I have to tell you what your wonderful brother aidan did the other day, he called me into the room after I had been upstairs doing laudry. I heard him saying "mom come here" sounding so exciting. When I came into the room, he had made a heart out of a length of chain, and showed it to me, so proudly. Then he said, "your my heart mom".
Love Mommy
Tuesday, February 14, 2006 10:34 AM CST
Happy Valentines Day
I don't think I've ever written about Conor's first Valentines. Well actually there is one that stands out most clearly in my mind.
It was technically his second Valentines Day, but being he was just 4 months old on his actual first, he wasn't much of a participant.
In February 2001, Conor was just over a year old. We had been living here in Alberta for just about 4 months and Darren worked away from home for two weeks at a time. I hadn't planned on doing much for Valentines day other than the usual card and let conor eat chocolate hearts for supper...but early that morning Darren called and said he was on his way home. Conor and I were both so excited that we had to run out and do what we did best. SHOP. Conor was truly my son in that way. He may have looked like his Daddy but he was all mine when it came to the shopping genes. We dressed in our snow gear, I believe our first winter here it rarely got above -25 or -40 or something crazy with the wind-chill. I wasn't used to that kind of weather, I was used to rain, slush, drizzle and fog...but we adapted. With not having a car, I had no choice. It was bundle up and braze the temperatures or not go to the mall. Surely staying home with available credit and money in the bank was a worse fate that frostbite...
Anyway off we went. We ran through the stores buying every Valentine decoration you can imagine. And really being first time mom, all this valentine decoration stuff was new to me. I'd never seen window clings or valentine streamers and balloons, and surely they had made them in a blues clues them JUST for Conor!! I was thrilled beyond belief. Conor was so excited most likely feeding off mine, and it was so fun!
We raced home and covered the front window with Happy Valentines Blues Clues and hung streamers and balloons. We had a complete party ready and waiting to happen when Darren got home. He had colored blues clues valentines for his dad and jumped up and down clapping his hands when his dad got home.
It was the best Valentines I have ever had. And as I sit here today, looking at my empty windows and walls bare of decorations, I am thinking that I have run out and add a little Valentines to my house. Aidan however is quite content with the fact his Valentines Day consisted of waking up to me handing him a card, a Scooby doo valentines book and most importantly some chocolate hearts. And with me being the mom that I am, the ever so diligent no candy before breakfast kind - not - he's happy sitting covered in chocolate from head to toe, wrappers scattered all over the sofa still in his PJ's watching Jimmy Neutron. He's quite happy with his valentines day. And so am I. And that’s all that really matters isn't it?
Happy Valentines Day!
Kristy
P.S. Moments after I wrote this there was a knock at the door and I received a beautiful vase full of flowers from my wonderful (absent at work) hubby. Happy Valentines Day Darren - I love you!
And attached to the vase was a stuffed puppy for Aidan. Love you DADDY!!
P.S.S Almost simultaneously to he flower and puppy dog delivery Aidan says "Mom, I have a stomach ache" hmmm I really need to reconsider the chocolate before breakfast thing....
Monday, January 30, 2006 9:53 AM CST
The passed few weeks have been somewhat of an emotional rollercoaster to say the least. On one level I am existing as normally as one can. I get up, I get Aidan his breakfast, I play with Aidan and watch him grow and learn and laugh and love and I clean my house, and visit with friends. I bake and cook and read and watch movies and talk on the phone. Its just normal everyday stuff. Then there is this other level beneath the surface that exists as well. The times when I feel tired and scared and confused for no reason. The times I feel a sense of foreboding and waiting for something to happen. I awake in the morning expecting to be somewhere else. I don’t feel rested and my dreams from the night before are still with me. I try to make sense of what is happening and I realize that everything that happened two years ago is happening again. All the feelings and emotions are coming through. I am experiencing the sleeplessness, the worry, the fear, confusion of watching my son die. This morning I woke up with a head full of thoughts and when I was finally able to pluck one from the thousands swirling around in my head, it was “today is the day conor had his bronchoscopy and lung wash. Today I remember being up all night and watching conor battle fevers and a sore tummy and not wanting to eat. I remember the sinking feeling when he didn’t bounce back from surgery like he normally did. I remember today as leading up to tomorrow when we heard conor had RSV.” I can’t simply push those thoughts aside like I’ve been doing. The whole avoid, deny, ignore coping thing that I’ve surrounded myself with is crumbling. The mind body connection is an incredible thing. Even though I may not consciously remember something my body does and when I pay attention I can read what my body is telling me and suddenly I am faced with a memory, a moment that I can’t brush aside.
And it’s not just me. Aidan seems to be experiencing things in his own way too. The other morning I asked him, as I always do, if he had any dreams the night before. He then told me about his dream, and I wrote it down:
“Aidan woke up this morning so excited to share his dream with me. He told me he dreamt about conor and that he and conor were playing leap frog. Aidan said he had so much fun and he jumped high and high and high and he landed on the roof of the house in squishy stuff. He said that the he and conor had supper with their teddy bears. Aidan’s teddy was named Meghan and Conor’s was named Thomas. He also said that Conor’s teddy bear was pink and that conor was yellow. First he had asked me “mom what color is conor” and I told him his skin was the same color as yours, his hair a little lighter and his eyes were blue. And Aidan laughed and said no, conor was yellow! Bright yellow. His hands were yellow, his eyes were yellow, his feet were yellow, everything about him was yellow.”
I see so much in that dream. First of all the day Aidan had that dream was exactly two years after the last time he spent any time at home with Conor. Conor had been home at the apartment on a pass and Conor and Aidan had spent the time running around and crawling on each others backs, playing leap frog. Later that same day we had all climbed up on the bed and Aidan and conor had surrounded me with teddy bears. We had supper at home that night before I took conor back to the hospital. It seems pretty incredible that Aidan would dream what he did on that particular day. A lot of people told me that Aidan was too young when conor died, that he would never remember him. I have tried hard to keep the memories that Aidan has of Conor alive in his mind, and I think that keeps the connection there. But I also believe the bond between Conor and Aidan was so strong it will always be there. No matter what. More so now, since Aidan told me of his dream. It’s not a memory I have ever talked to him about. Conor and Aidan were so close, from the moment Conor knew that Aidan was growing in my belly. Conor always wanted and needed Aidan near, and I for one can’t begin to imagine how that bond was strengthened once it was Aidan’s blood that Conor had flowing in his veins. I believe Aidan has a connection with conor now and that he always will.
Watching Aidan in his innocence, hold onto conor and keep him close has lead me to open my mind just a little more to things I have learned to close my eyes to. And since doing that I have in some ways finally found ways to deal and cope with Conor’s death, ways that for the first time are giving me more of an understanding and acceptance of Conor’s life and his death. His purpose and his reason. I wrote about them last week, in a moment that I wish I could keep with me forever. At the time I was certain I would feel that way from then on. But it hasn’t happen that way. So I keep going back to what I wrote and reading it over and over to hold on to that feeling and that hope I had for myself. Hope is one word I don’t use to frequently any more. But one I am slowing working back into my life.
January 21
In November I signed up to take a Reiki course and I am very happy that I did. As I was leaving at the end of the first class I told the Reiki Master that was teacher us, that I had done so many things in the past (nearly) 2 years, to help me on my journey through conor’s death - counseling, support groups, and read countless books, and finally I found it, this was it. This is what is going to help me go through. For the first time I felt a connection again to conor and I feel his presence so easily when I am in a circle with others whose purpose is the same as mine, to connect with and use the energy that we are and that surrounds us. At the beginning and at the end of a Reiki session I was taught to call on my own personal spiritual beliefs and guides and ask for protection and help in using the Reiki energy. Each time I say those words, it is conor’s face I see. I see his light and his energy. When we mediate and were guided to put ourselves in a safe place I immediately saw myself laying next to conor in his hospital bed, and snuggled in bed with all my boys. Those are my safe places. Surrounded by those I love.
For the past 2 years since Conor died I have been surrounded by and succumbed to so much negative energy and feelings and thoughts that I was beginning to feel so weighted down by it. The night of our first class we held a mediation at the end, as I was lying on the floor I felt, connected to it. Like I was part of it, like I went right through the floor and I was connected to and an integral part of mother earth. It took fierce concentration to separate myself from that floor and for the rest of the evening I kept staring at that space on the floor and expecting to see something. I could see a heaviness there, where I had been. Later as I was leaving I turned several times, feeling as if I had forgotten something. I went back looked around and went to leave several times and then it dawned on me that I was circling the spot on the floor that I had been laying. I was looking for what I left behind. For the first time in a long long time, I had been able to let go of all the negative energy that had taken up residence inside me. It had been in me, a part of me for so long I could feel its absence like a gap inside me.
For weeks after, I could feel a difference in how I looked at things, and I was able to deflect negative energies when they were directed my way. I could so easily let them go because now I wasn’t weighted down by then already I could recognize them and I was able to not let them affect me any more.
The next class, at the completion of my first level I left feeling energized and enlivened. I was able to feel conor’s presence and accept him as being a part of me now, a part of the energy around me. I was able to make and see the connections in Conor’s birth and in his death. I remembered the feeling in the room at both times and they were the same. Except when conor was born, suddenly an energy, a strong vibrant energy filled the room. It was there for all to feel and see. Even those who do not ‘get’ this or are open to the whole idea could feel and see it. It was with conor throughout his whole life. People were drawn to conor. People wanted to be near him to hold him to touch him, to be in the presence of his laugh. His energy and light drew people to him, and despite being a four year old boy, a preschooler or a toddler, he was able to get people to hear him, to listen to him and to get his message out. I never before really understood that. Or really let myself be amazed or touched by the amount of lives conor touched. After he died, I couldn’t accept that some good came from his death. I know that the good came from his life, the way he lived, how he lived and how much he loved. I am now again allowing myself to see Conor as he was and now is.
The night conor died, the air in his hospital room was thick and I could feel the energy in the room changing. I remember leaving and coming back to the room a while late just to see if it was me, if I was imagining it or if I was just nervous or scared or whatever. I remember walking down the hall of the hospital and the further from the ICU I got, the less I could feel it. I knew what it was telling me and I tried to explain it to Darren who didn’t want to feel it or see it or face it. I didn’t either. But there was no mistaking it when I entered conor’s room again. It was reminding me of his birth, except this time, I could feel the energy escalating and vibrating in a different way. I knew then it was time, Conor was going to leave me. He would be fully gone. It was a big rush to move him from the ICU and to a quiet family room, but we did it. And as Darren and I held him and helped him leave us I could feel the energy change in the room. The temperature change, the air, the whole feeling in the room. I thought for so long that it was it. That that energy just left that night. But lately I have come to recognize and feel that energy around me and in me. I was there in that room, I too am made of energy and I know I took part of that energy on.
As I was driving away from the end of my second level Reiki class I was talking about conor with a friend who was in the class with me. We had just met the week before in class, but found we lived near each other and discovered other ways our lives were connected. We had opted to drive together and on the way home it was so wonderful to share conor with her, some one who didn’t know him, but like so many others had heard of him, had know of him and her life was touched by him. I was talking on and on about him and his light and energy and how he had reached out to so many people and the ways he’d made a difference and gotten his voice heard. How he made people sit up and listen and take a four year old seriously. He in his way, changed how children were treated, he made so many people see that he wasn’t just a kid with a disease; he was a person with a voice. I was telling Judy that it was conor that gave me my voice, that before conor, I was hesitant always to speak up for myself to be heard, as if I felt nothing I had to say was of any value, or that I didn’t matter. But Conor made me do just that. In having to speak up for him, he in turn was teaching me to speak up for myself. And that was in incredible gift I hadn’t fully realized he had given me. At that time we rounded a bend in the road and we were left staring straight into this brilliant light. It was confusing in that it seemed to be right on the road ahead, too big and high up to be a motorcycle and to centered to be a car, and as we neared it, it seemed to near us, but slowly. As we came around the bend further it became clear the light was coming from a train that for some reason was going incredibly slow in an area that normally it would be going quite fast. It had all three of its front engine lights on, and they must’ve been turned on high if trains can do such a thing, because the light was so bright and brilliant it was hard, for a few moments to see anything else. I smiled and began to tell Judy of conor’s love of trains and how we used to have to drop everything and run when we heard a train coming. How twice the engineer stopped while we watched from the side of the track and asked conor if he wanted a ride. We used to be at that trackside nearly every day to watch the train pass and shunt its cars. I was filled with memories of Conor, of his gifts to me, and to those he knew and suddenly I saw that light for what it was. A sign from Conor. A message from my son. The light before me was a brilliant and beautiful as conor. His light had shone just as bright and in little ways now shines on in me and his daddy and in Aidan. It shines in every person whose lives he touched.
I have always believed that everything happens for a reason. A birth, and accident, whatever. I believe you are where you are meant to be whenever you are there. That there are signs and gifts before you every day to help you chose your path, and that ultimately you make your own way and there is a reason to that. I could take whatever life put in my path and make the best of it I could, knowing eventually I would see a reason and purpose in it. Reiki has reinforced those beliefs for me, and helped me begin to reconcile within myself that although I can see the beauty and joy in conor’s life, and I can accept and take with me the gifts he gave me, and I feel his presence now like I was never able to do before, I still cannot accept and understand the reason why he had to die at such a young age. Even if that was his purpose, his reason, his journey. I was so angry and consumed with it for so long, and in some ways I always will be, but I am learning to see, that someday, the reason, or reasons may become clearer. And although I will never be ok with them, I might accept them.
Conor in his brilliant beauty and vibrant energy is still reaching me; teaching me and helping me find my way.
Not long after I wrote this I was contacted by a woman in my class who had taken a picture of all us that night. She came to my house later that day with the picture and what I saw amazed me. I am not sure what it is I did see, or what it can be or is. All of us are standing in a group. And there is a space between myself and another woman. And in that space from about shoulder level, reaching to the ceiling is a bright light. I know where the camera was placed. I know what was or wasn’t near it. I know there was nothing obstructing it or there was nothing to cause a glare or a refection. I have no idea what the light in the picture is and I am sure if you ask each of us in the class we’d all have different answers and reasons for those answers. I right now think it’s pretty exceptional that in a class full of women working with energy and light, I see and make a connection to conor to this light and then later to find a picture filled with an unexplained light. It’s just one of those moments in life that can’t be explained and I’m finding there are a lot of those lately. I can accept that sometimes it is whatever it is you want it to be.
Conor. I miss you. I love you. Two years is a long long time to be with out you. Thank you for being you. For being my son. For letting me feel your love and spirit even now. Thank you for the gift of you.
Mommy
Saturday, December 24, 2005 3:33 PM CST
Just wanted to say a very Merry Christmas to everyone. Thank you for continuing to to share conor with us through your memories.
This is such a hard time of year for so many reasons. But right now I am holding on to a memory of conor I have standing in his hospital room in his tshirt, underwear and bare feet, decorating the christmas tree just the way he wanted. And later that night, all of us snuggled in bed reading the night before christmas. i hold on to his smile and his joy. I remember his love for us and for his little brother and some how I'm able to keep going.
Merry Christmas, much love, peace and joy,
Kristy Darren and Aidan
Conor,
I love you billy. I miss you.
mommy
Friday, December 2, 2005 11:56 PM CST
Conor
I can stop coming here because you are here. I feel you. It’s like I am talking directly to you. But sometimes I feel like I am beating my head against a wall. How many times can I say I miss you, that it hurts, that I am lonely that I feel empty without you? I feel like I will forever just say the same thing, do the same thing, stay stagnant here missing you.
How will I ever be brave enough to move forward? I still look for new pictures of you. I still try and imagine what you would love now, who you would be. I see Aidan as such a little you sometimes.. then I remember he is nearly the same age as you. How can that be?
Last year when I went back to NL I was visiting a friend whose daughter was born 9 months after you were. My friend and her husband were both there the night you were born, I have always said you were what lead to their daughter…but I am getting off track. I was so happy to see this beautiful little girl and yet I found myself completely unable to be around her. I felt a sense of panic just being near her. Aidan love playing with her and her little brother but I was just repelled by her. I couldn’t figure it out. I avoided her completely. One day I stood outside the playroom door looking in at her, willing myself to go in, my eyes filled with tears, and I couldn’t. Her mom said to me “it must be hard… just go hold her, hug her, cuddle her she’ll love it” but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. It was a few months later that I realized what it was. She was the EXACT same age as you. Impossible. She was born nine months after you. But there she was, full of life and laughter, so cute and everything a 4 year old should be. And you weren’t there. Moments like that - some as intense, some a little less so, happen everyday. More so lately as I see Aidan really come into himself as a little boy. He is so funny, so loving, so smart and articulate and did I say smart? Boy he wears me out mentally! All day long, its one question after another, and more reading, more letters, more numbers, more stories…and his imagination! Wow. He re enacts stories and movies and songs. Everything is a chance for him to learn and explore and grow. He’s so incredible.
Just last night he played this game with me that he made up. He was the baby bird in the egg (a purple throw I keep on the couch) and I was (directed to be )the mommy bird. I had sit and watch him come out of the egg and then go off and get him some worms to feed him. It wasn’t a surprise then at bedtime that went to the bookshelf where I keep a few very special books, your books. Our favorites, and I pulled out “are you my mother”, and read it to Aidan. It was so close to what he was playing out, and yet I can’t remember reading that book to him in at least a year. I remember trying once, but it was too hard. But last night it felt so good to read it. After I was done, Aidan insisted I read it again, but I told him it was bedtime, time for sleep, we’d read it again in the morning. He insisted, I insisted, finally I agreed to let him read it to me. Do you know that he ‘read’ it? He remembered enough of it to read the pictures and get nearly every one? And the ones he didn’t completely remember, he made up so well, he might as well have remembered. Laughing, I said to him “Aidan where on earth did you learn to read like that?” “Conor” was all he said…
He talks about you all the time. So much so that I just have to stop trying to understand, and figure it out. Either he sees you, remembers you or whatever it is, its real, you are real and I am envious of what he is able to see. He is still young enough he hasn’t learned to forget what comes so naturally. The same thing that I am trying so hard to relearn.
I did that radio broad cast last week and I was so surprised at how easy it was. I remember taking a deep breath, and seeing you and feeling you and it wasn’t difficult at all to talk about you. Being there, at the hospital, I do see you. Running down the hallways, laughing. There are many sad and difficult memories there, but ultimately for whatever reason I feel you there, feel close to you and doing things like that radio broad cast make me feel closer to you. I hope in some way I was able to help bring in some of that money for the hospital (thank you everyone that called in on behalf of Conor! Especially Brooklyn for donating your tooth fairy money and ‘the girls” Katie, Kayla and Allison! And nana too!). Though it wasn’t me at all, it was me telling your story, your life, you. I was caught off guard when one of the interviewers asked me how I remembered you and I said it was jumping on the bed nearly pulling out your lines, just days before you died. And it is. I remember your spirit so well. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I see the moment you left me, the night you were intubated. And I see you two days later lying in my arms when your body let you go. But what stays in my mind, in my heart, is that little boy doing whatever he could to be who it was he was. The mischievous grin, the light in your eyes. I hold on to that.
Mommy misses you Billy.
Monday, November 21, 2005 5:00 PM CST
Yesterday I had the oppurtunity to attend a beautiful memorial held at the stollery hospital in memory of all the kids that have died. I was able to meet other parents who are travelling this road with me. Incredibly one family whose son died just a few short months ago, was born on oct.18, at approximately the same time as conor. I thought that was pretty incredible. Of all the families to sit near and talk to, two of us ended up sharing our stories of our beautiful sons born 12 years apart, but at the same day, and time.
Driving home I was missing conor and feeling pretty lonely as aidan was fast asleep in the back seat. Its a pretty long dark drive and I was talking to conor as I drove and searched for something on the radio to listen to. I had a certain song in mind, the one that was previously playing on conor's webpage. I asked conor out loud to send me a sign and let me hear that song. But as I said it,I knew if conor was going to do something it would be his way. And no sooner had I thought that, this song that is playing now came on and I instantly knew that he was reaching out to me. I could feel him. Instead of driving on a long dark road overwhelmed with sadness listening to the song I thought I wanted to hear, I ended up driving with a smile on my face, singing along to a song with a memory I'd forgotten about. When we first moved to Edmonton Conor was just a year old. I had just dicovered how to download music from the internet (back when it was legal) and I made a CD of songs for conor and I to dance to. This was one of them. I remember holding Conor, dancing around the room, and conor standing in front of the stero telling me to turn it up. Of course there were other songs on that CD, bon jovi to name another. But hearing this song, just made it all fall into place and I was given the gift of seeing conor in a way I'd hadn't in a long time. Music is still something that is very difficult for me and I miss those carefree afternoons dancing freely, fully believing I would always be able to do just that.
And for a few moments I was right back there again.
Tomorrow I will be taking part in the STOLLERY CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL FOUNDATION Help Kids Hope Radio broadcast to raise money for the Pediatric oncology department. At 3:30 I am scheduled on THE BEAR and at 3:40 EZ ROCK 104.9
Its live and I am pretty nervous, but I am happy to do it, if it helps bring in money for research and treatment for kids so that we can be that much closer to kicking cancer in the butt.
Kristy
Monday, November 7, 2005 3:04 PM CST
* I would really love to hear some conor stories. So please if you have any you'd like to share put them in the guest book. I really need to hear about him from some one else.
I don't know if I ever mentioned the time about a year ago when I ran into one of the nurses from the hospital and she approached me and told me she was hesitant to tell me but had always wanted to about the christmas eve we all spent in hospital. She described to me what the four of us looked like all tangled up in that hospital bed. She described it so well and with such emotion, that i could really see it, i like was standing there looking at us. I was so thankful for that. She gave me a memory i would've never had other wise. She told me she really wanted to take a picture but was afraid of waking us. Which worked out ok anyway, I do have a picture now. Etched on my heart because she shared that memory with me, and made hers my own. So no matter what it is you may have to share about conor, it would mean so very much to me to hear it.
thanks
______________
Monday, November 7, 2005 3:04 PM CST
I know it’s been awhile since I updates. I attempt to several times a day it seems, but I sit here and nothing seems to come out.
Thank you so much for thinking of us and remembering Conor and his birthday. It was so different from last year when we invited friends and family over to celebrate Conor. I just didn’t feel like that this year. It feels like I’ve spent so much time celebrating what a wonderful boy he was I have yet to take the time to mourn and grieve his death. His birthday was a quite one for us. Aidan and I woke up and said a special happy birthday to Conor. Darren came home from work that day, and it was nice to have that to look forward to. He’d been gone for 2 weeks, so Aidan and I were pretty excited to go and pick him up at the airport. It would have been even more difficult without Darren here that day.
On the way to the airport we stopped at my friends house who had a cake waiting so we could remember conor on his birthday. Also a particulary appropriate card about the values of retail therapy. I am sure she contacted Hallmark and had them design the card with me in mind! Thanks gina. I needed to laugh that morning.
Darren, Aidan and I spent the day together and talking about Conor. Aidan and I went to the store to pick up some balloons and he was so excited to tell everyone that they were for his brother, for his birthday. Everyone thought Aidan was being so cute and how sweet it was he was buying balloons for his brother on his birthday. In my head I kept thinking “don’t ask how old he is…please don’t ask how old he’ll be”. Thankfully no one did, and truthfully I have no problem answering but I can’t stand the look on people’s faces and the way I end up comforting them afterwards. Or hearing “oh I don’t think I could ever handle that”. That makes me feel like there is something wrong with me for continuing to live while my son is dead. What else am I supposed to do? Deny Aidan a mother? I’ve learned too, to respond to that with “you never know what you are capable of when you have to be”. And looking at Aidan every day gives me that strength I need…Its difficult though to constantly be on guard waiting for the next awkward moment… Anyway we got the balloons, 6 balloons all different colors to let got for Conor on his birthday.
When we came home we had supper and then instead of a cake Aidan and I made cupcakes. We each decorated a cupcake and then lit a candle for Conor. Though I think Aidan had 10 cupcakes!
A few months ago I found a ring that I really liked and was going to buy for Aidan for Christmas, because he’s always wanted a ring. But I liked the rings so much, the design – they are silver with a Celtic warrior shield- that I bought one for each of us and this is what we all wear now as a tribute to Conor. Aidan’s ring is still a little big but he is anxiously waiting to grow into it.
At 5:02 (Conor was born at 8:32 Newfoundland time which is 5:02 here) I snuck outside by myself with Conor's baby picture and a Thomas blue balloon and had my annual birthday talk with Conor as I watched to balloon float away.
Later after supper we all let the rest of the balloons go and Aidan was so excited to send balloons to Conor.
Cassandra sent us some beautiful flowers. A mix of orange and yellow sunflowers. Earlier that day I had been out to buy the balloons and I saw similar flowers at the store. I had them in my had thinking I should buy them to put them on the buffet next to all of Conor’s special things. Sunflowers remind me of Conor…I put the flowers back because for some reason I kept thinking I didn’t need to buy them. Yet I could see them sitting on the buffet table at home. I put them back and left the store only to come home and not five minutes later hear a knock at the door and there was a flower delivery of the same flowers I didn’t buy. So a special thank you to Cassandra for those!
I debated putting the song on the webpage that is playing now, because I am really trying not to make this a place to come here and end up crying as seems to always happen. But here it is. I first heard this song a few weeks before Conor’s birthday and I was thinking about Conor and what it would be like to drop him off at school and he’d be gone all day and how I’d have managed to deal with that. I was in the kitchen cooking supper and our sometimes working radio cut in playing this song. (The radio would cut in and out and it would also change stations) I stopped and just stood in the kitchen listening to the words and felt so much pain at missing Conor I just had to sit on the floor and cry. I could see all my hopes and dreams I had for him running like a movie in my head. I used to day dream about the day he’d graduate from college or the day he’d tell me I was going to be a grandmother or how tall he’d be and if he’d still have his curls and if he’d out grow that mischievous grin and the need to flash his butt to people walking by.
I had to get up and turn off the radio. I hadn’t heard the song for while since then, and the other day some one emailed to me and I sat and listened to it again. All the same what if’s and if only’s running through my head and my heart. And today some one put it in Conor’s guestbook, so I figured three times must be a sign, so I put it on the page. Strangely listening to the lyrics has helped me in so many ways to see Conor for the boy he was and the life he lived. It’s helped me face that those dreams, that person, those moments are never going to be, and it’s helped me hold on to and remember things that I hadn’t allowed my self to reflect on. He was a four year old boy who lived a lifetime in those for years. He loved and lived and laughed and played and held on to every moment. I know who’d he’d be today, he’d still be that person. And if I think of it that way, in some ways he is still here with me.
kristy
I love you conor,
mom
________________________________________________
Aidan says he misses you and loves you and he wrote a song for you:
I don’t know about this
Aidan is my rainbow
Mommy is my star and Conor is the sun
oh I don't know about this
(when reading the lyrics be sure to do so in the voice of a sleeping 3 year old slightly of key singing the back of the van all by himself to a made up song while waving a blue light up sparkly star fiber optic wand…)
Sunday, October 9, 2005 10:12 PM CDT
** I put the clip of conor's voice in the guestbook for everyone that asked to hear it. The clip was recorded one day in between hospital stays, when conor was missing all his friends and wanted to write them a letter and he sat down at the computer with an open email message and proceeded to type away while talking. the letter started out to be to his friends, "dear cassie, dear nicholas, I hope you miss us..but then he changed it to dear mommy dear daddy, dear aidan. I love you." I am so glad I thought to turn on the microphone and record it as he typed. To be able to hear him say "I Love you" when ever I need to....he left me with so much. I have a recording of him saying "sweet dreams, I love you...goodnight. sweet dreams I love you goodnight". And one of him singing his version of rockabye (thomas) baby." I have some great video clips of him too, if anyone can tell me how to link those to here for you to see please let me know! thanks :) **
Conor
There are so many ways every day I hear you speak to me. Sometimes it takes me awhile to hear you, but I always do. There have been moments lately that I feel the intensity of your loss, so new and so fresh that I am certain it just happened. I am counting the days to your birthday, counting down to the minute you were born, remembering where I was six years ago this, week, this hour this minute. Remembering the way I was so anxious and so desperate to hold you. How the final weeks of my pregnancy dragged out and how I wanted to go into labour early. How you waited and waited and you kept me waiting ten days longer than I should of. I am so thankful that I had those extra days with you. Just me and you, tucked away, safe in my belly close to my heart. How I would lay my hands my belly and feel your feet and your hands moving and your elbows pushing into my hands. I remember talking to you, reading to you and singing quiet songs to you when no one was around. I can’t believe that I am not sitting here, planning your birthday. Hearing you laugh and giggle and tell me you are five like James but you’re going to be six like Percy. I wonder what you’d like now, what you’d want for your birthday…would your hair still be curly and light? Would it have darkened with age? Would you have lost any of your baby teeth and tucked them under your pillow? What kind of cake would you have liked to have…What I would say to you as I took you aside like I always did, at 8:32pm? And tell you about the day you were born. What questions you would ask this year. Six seems like such a big boy. I am just so sorry you didn’t get to be six like Percy.
My head has been so full and so thick. I can’t seem to separate my thoughts or hear myself think. But when I do finally get a moment of calm. You are all I hear. I hear you in the lyrics of the songs I listen to, I see you in the first star I see sitting to the west of the moon in the evening sky. I see you in the train racing along beside me as I drive.
I am thankful for each moment you were mine and for every memory of you I have.
I love the gift of you and all that you brought to my life.
Conor. There are moments that the loss of not having you here with me makes everything else meaningless. It takes all those moments of happiness and turns them into bittersweet moments. I just get angry and lonely and so damn sad. I hear you reaching out to me. I hear you telling me I need to let that go and to appreciate all I do have for what it is. Be who I used to be. I hear you telling me that. I hear you telling me to stop holding on to all that I am not, and be who I am and who I can be. I see you in that sparkle I Aidan’s eyes and in his laughter and I know that is what I need to be. Aidan’s mommy. I feel myself unfolding and opening and accepting. You are getting through to me baby; please don’t give up on me yet.
I know you are close to Aidan still. He often talks of you and that you are near him. And that makes me smile. I want so much to have that innocence he has, to be able to accept and feel and see what is there, and not what I am afraid to let myself see and feel.
I just miss you Billy. I miss you. Keep speaking to me. I am listening.
Goodnight, Sweet dreams. I love you.
Mommy
Saturday, September 24, 2005 0:51 AM CDT
Conor...
All summer long I waited for the sunflowers to bloom that I planted this year. Just like I have every year since you and I first did the summer we moved into this house. Remember that first year? The day we were brining you into the hospital for your first round of chemo, we took your picture standing next to the sun flowers and they were so much taller than you and you were so proud that "the flowers are as high as the house". The sunflowers didn't come up this year. I admit I didn't do a very good job planting them. I think I planted them too late or I forgot to seed them in the house first...either way, i kept waiting to see them climbing up the side of the house...but they never did.
I planted sweet peas like I always did, like we did. Remember how bright and colorful they were? how they grew up the side of the garage and how happy you were they were growing when we brought aidan home? This year the sweet peas got tangled up and lost in all the wild flowers I planted, so they were never able to grow up the side like they used to.
Everyday, every minute I look for signs from you. When I think I see them, I tell myself I am just seeing things I want to see. Like the other day when I took Aidan to shcool for the first time, I was sure I could feel you there in the hallway with me when I went to pick him up. I could smell you. I know how crazy that sounds, but i smelled your smell, that just woke up, sticky, warm, slightly sweet sweaty, smell. The one that makes me think of you, the side of your neck with the freckles, the white undershirt you always wore, and the scent of warm blankets from the hospital warmer...how you loved those warm blankie's.I just realized thats the most accurate way to describe that smell that I associate with you, your smell. the one I remember, the one I am smelling now as I write this. Warm blankets. Its kind of fitting...
I've been looking for signs, waiting for signs, but not wanting them when I get them. I don't want to admit to what they are, that you are gone but here. I guess believing what I feel and see and smell would mean believing that you are really gone, and dont think I will ever be ready to accept that.
But today a little of that began to creep into my mind. Aidan and I were in the living room getting a slow start to our day after another dash to the ER last night for croup (he's fine...but I could really use an uneventful month when it comes to doctor's, hospitals, and the like with Aidan!)Anyway we were in the living room when we heard a very loud bang. I checked everywhere in the house, checked outside but couldn't find the source of the sound. it sounded kind of like ice and snow falling off the roof, but we are not at that point here yet! I eventually gave up and figured it was nothing. Later this afternoon aidan and I went outside to play, and i noticed on my way to the garage one red sweet pea trailing over the side of the back flower garden. It made me smile when I thought of you. And it made me sad. It made me think of all the times I thought to myself that if only the sunflowers had come up I'd have known it was you saying hi to me. It would be a sign. Especially now, this late in the year. As I walked back to the front yard, I saw the window box from the kitchen window had fallen to the ground. it must've been what made the noise earlier today. I bent down to pick it up and as I untangled the flowers from the dirt and weeds, I noticed a single small sunflower growing in the dirt in the most unlikely place. Far from where I'd planted the seeds. only one but it was there.
I love you Conor. I miss you.
Mommy
xo
Wednesday, August 31, 2005 9:24 AM CDT
As we were snuggling into bed the other night, just before stories, Aidan says “can I have ONE sip of water mommy?” I pass him his water and he takes a long sip. Just as I am reaching to put it back on the bedside table he says “can I have one more sip mom?” so I pass it back to him and he says “thanks mom, now I got TWO sips”. Not wanting to miss an opportunity to make learning fun and disquise it as something else entirely I said “wow aidan you had one sip, then one more, so how many did you have?” “TWO!” he proudly says and shows me on his fingers. “that’s great baby, now if you have one more (which he does) how many have you had?” “THREE!” he says in his cutest, crackly, sleepy, squeaky just before sleep voice that makes me just want to squeeze him and kiss him all over! I put the water down and we read a story “the turtle in the toilet” and he sits up grinning “can I have ONE MORE sip of water mom?” “sure” I say. When he’s done I ask how many he’s had and we count “one, two, three FOUR!” “you are such a good counter Aidan!” to which he giggles and asks for ONE more sip of water. I pass him the glass, still playing the counting game and ask “ok, you’ve had four sips of water, and if you take one more, what will it be?” to which he gulps down the glass of water, turns to me Grins and says, “All GONE”.
Conor, Aidan is becoming such a little boy! its incredible to watch his little mind word. It seems he talks nonstop in a series of questions and answers and observations. He loves to play trains, just like his big brother did...he knows all their names and most of the numbers and those he doesn't - he asks...several times! He has quickly mastered how to use the computer and spends lots of time playing thomas computer games. He likes the one you had, the building a line one, but he has a new one too, where james falls off the tracks (or quacks as aidan says) because he is going too fast.
Aidan is so looking forward to going to preschool this fall and says he can't wait to learn all kinds of things, like letters and numbers and magazines... I am really not sure what that is all about. He is so silly sometimes. He loves to call his daddy pickle butt and barbie butt and calls me big momma. Not too sure I like that one! but I remember you used to call me that too conor.
We are taking a trip soon too. To visit our friends in atlanta. I am pretty excited and so is aidan. I've never been all the way to atlanta before, and especially to see our friends.
We all miss you so much conor. And we love you. Aidan reminds me so much of you everyday, and how your life should've been, just that of a normal little boy without all the poking and prodding and cancer and hosptials and being sick and not living to be five. I tell myself the life you did have, was the best you could've had with what you were given. You made everyday, every moment count. You took pleasure in all the little things around you. You loved so deeply and so many, and you brought such joy and happieness to everyone that knew you. You changed me, you changed everyone around you, and you made left the world a better place then when you found it. I tell myself that no matter how long you may have lived you lived the life you were meant to leave, and no matter how wrong I think it is, or how much it hurts me to have you gone, it was all for some purpose, for a reason. I tell myself those things because its what i have to believe to get me through the day. Most days i miss you so much it hurts to breath.
I try to take the lessons you taught me, the love you showed me the joy for your life and live by them, but its so very hard when all i see is that empty chair, the empty place at the train table, the empty bed and the space beside aidan where you should be. I look at the picture of you and aidan in the tub playing. The one where aidan has all his cloths on. The last time you saw your brother. I remember the laughter, and the love that day. Just too brothers playing, being silly. But that moment was engraved on my heart just as every moment was. I never took a second of your life for granted. I want to always remember those moments. I know aidan does. he tells me things about you all the time. Its not as if I've fed him memories I have of you and him, I just never let him forget the ones he had of you. We've always talked and shared our memories so that he will always have his own. we look at pictures now and he askes questions and wants to know more. He was facinated that they took his blood and put it in you, and that made you better for a little while. Sometimes he tells me he dreams of you. Whenever I say to him "do you know how much I love you aidan?" he says "too much in my heart" when I asked him where he heard that (because I alwyas say, no sily, to infinity and beyond....!) he told me you said that too him. Maybe in his dreams.
I'm thinking of you billy. I miss you. I just wanted you to know what an amazing little brother you have. How fun he is, how silly, how smart and how much joy he brings to your daddy and me. Mommy worries about him too much, fusses over him too much and I don't play with him nearly enough, sometimes playing just hurst too much. I love to sit and just watch him and soak up every minute of his every movement. I love just knowing he is there. Right there in front of me.
His favorite knock knock joke is the one brooklyn told him
Knock knock
whos there
I EEP
I EEP WHO?
hahaha!
and he loves to act out thomas movies and play scences from the cat in the hat over and over and over. He loves the polar expres and we listen to the cd pretty much everytime we are in the van. Even though its christmas music. You would've loved that movie! We can't wait for it to come out on dvd. We are counting the days! Novemember is a LOOOOOOOOOONGGGGGGGGGGGg way off.
love you billy
**************************
Conor, mommy had me at the doctor for three days in a row! can you believe that? The first doctor said that I definately had someting going on because of my cough that wouldn't go away and she gave me some medicine for that. But mommy was STILL worried yesterday so she took me to the ER because she thought I had croup I was cough so much, I just didn't stop! That doctor made mommy feel like she was crazy and imagining things and I was FINE, and sent us home. Mommy just didn't feel right and was upset that the doctor didn't do any tests, especailly after a full night of coughing again last night. So sleep deprived mommy and I went BACK to the doctor again today. This time mommy was able to get into see our family doctor and right away just felt better. He even said that after all mommy had been through, she had every right to over react and be cautious! But she wasn't because sure enough, he sent me for all kinds of tests. A chest xray, yecky nose swab, and some blood work. I was doing fine til the bloodwork. I don't think mommy liked that much either. Some words just make mommy all weird and scared and that sure is one of them! Any way, a few pokes and pictures later, turns out my blood is fine (but we KNEW that)but the pictures showed I had some stuff on my lungs. Its not bad, but I don't think pneumonia is ever good! I am fine. Doing good, running around and playing. Still coughing but I've got some new medicines and even one I have to puff in, and I am taking that good for mommy. Phew. I just had to tell you how brave a I was and though I screamed pretty loud at the blood work ladies, it wasn't that bad. I got some chocolate out of the whole ordeal anyway! the whole thing made mommy realize that no one, no doctor ANYONE is going to make her second guess herself again. Mommy knew I wasn't feeling well! And I have to get on an airplane soon! I have to be all better for that. The important thing is I am fine and that mommy is ever so greatful that our family doctor here is so wonderful and looks after me so well. And the doctor I saw today at the hospital was so good to me and mommy too. They all remember you and I guess they aren't taking any chances with me and I am glad for that. The nurses sure were nice to me too! lots of stickers and suckers and even some hugs for mom. Every tells me how cute I am too :). Anyway conor, I got to go and play some more while mommy packs our suitcases!
Monday, August 29, 2005 11:02 PM CDT
Three years ago today baby, everything changed. Mommy and daddy sitting on those silly little chairs in the kids play room of the cross cancer institute talking with dr. G as you played with the nurse and aidan slept. Daddy and I pushing for answers, wanting to know what, why, how...our first words were how can we fight this. what do we do. our first thought was how do we save you. how do we keep you, how do we make sure you never never leave us...i remember coming home, spending the night here, but never sleeping, knowing you were being admitted the next day. Admitted for your broviac surgery. you were so brave, I was so scared, holding you as they put you under. your eyes rolled back i your head, your breath pushed out of your body it seamed...it terrified me...i felt as if I'd just been shown what it would be like to hold you as you took your final breath. I think I knew then. I think thats what made me fight even harder. your broviac. I still have it. your orignal one...remember how when it broke, just after your relapse and you got a new one, how you and daddy played in the yard with it, tossing it up in to the tree. you wanted to leave it there. I made daddy go back for it. I wanted it. I wanted to have it. to me it was part of you. the part that sustained you through all your chemos and transplant. I remember you waking from that surgery confused and scared that the broviac would hurt. How quickly you got used to it. How much longer it took me to. i remember coming home that night, having a few more nights a home, a weekend pass until you were admitted for chemo on monday. how well you did. how scared we all were. the smells, the taste of the place, the sounds, air, all of it. My hope, my determination, my heart full with you. How you cried to have aidan near. how we all stayed in that bed, needing to be close. none of us able to bear being apart for even a few minutes.
aidan and I talked to you tonight, as we often do. My brother conor he says. He died. I remember playing with him he said. And justin. Justin died too. Rock on Justin...Brooklyn asked me the other day, why you died. I explained all about your leukemia, your blood the sick cells, the infection...i know i didn't get it right. she wanted to know why. I couldn't bring myself to say that I just don't know why. I stuck to details, and I explained. but I just wanted to hold her and hug her and tell her I just don't know why. But I really really want to.... I miss you billy. I love you.
mommy
Friday, August 26, 2005 11:56 AM CDT
Conor made very few friends when he was in hospital.
And those he did make, of his own age and interest, his peers were even fewer. Even once a friendship was made, there was never any telling when he would see that friend, if he could play with that friend or if he would ever see that friend again. One such friend, a boy named Zachary, died today. Zachary and Conor met only a few times, and played together even less than that. I can remember Conor and Zacahry arguing over who got to ride the little john deer peddle tractor, and once they even wathched part of a movie together. Other times the were in hospital together one or both were 'contagious' with a virus or suspected virus and would simply wave while passing each others rooms. They were friends as only they were able to be given where they met and how their lives were. But I always remember conor referring to Zachary as "my friend zachary". I saw Zachary maybe a year ago,and hadn't heard much of him since. Its one of the things that is difficult, having met all these children and families and never knowing, once you leave that hospital, what happens to them. I always thought of Zachary and hoped he'd was doing well.
My heart goes out to Zachary's family today. Much love, peace and courage....
Monday, August 15, 2005 10:54 PM CDT
PICTURE SITE
While I was pregnant on Conor I joined an online group for mom's expecting babies in October. The group became such a important part of my life for many years. Through daily emails I shared every moment of my pregnacy with Conor and later his birth, and all of his firsts. Any time day or night there was always some one there, in one time zone or another. When I needed advice on sleeping or eating or teething or when I needed to brag about Conor's many amazing feats, they were all there.
It was three years ago this week, that they were the first people I turned to, when my world came crashing down, and we learned Conor may be sick. I just wanted to share with you, some of what I wrote that week.
I am so thankful that I have an archive of Conor's life that I can draw on whenever i need to, whenever i feel a memory slipping away, I am able to log on, search the archives an find a hundred in just moments.
Ladies - and you know who you are, thanks for having always been there and for giving me a place to store and share my memories.
These are just a few exerpts of what I wrote those first days.
Kristy
August 14,2002 1:21 pm
I just came from the doctor with conor and aidan. The good news is Aidan has
gained his birth weight . He is now 9lbs 5oz! What a piggie :-).
Now comes the hard part...I took conor in b/c he has bruises everywhere. He
bruises so easily its getting to be a big concern. Anyway, the doctor figures it
is may be a thing and wants him to see a specialist and sent him for
a complete blood workup. I am so scared. As soon as he said 'blood clotting and
platelets' I nearly threw up. I keep thinking leukemia or something equally
serious. even the lab techs asked why the work up and when I said brusing they
kinda went "oh, yeah...its good he's doing this then". Dr. VT will call us tomrrow with the results and the appointment
for the specialist.
August 15, 2002 11:04 am
the doctor just called. the results were 'abnormal' he wants us to come in to
the hospital now for more tests. I don't know what I was too afraid to ask.
Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers today.
August 15, 2002 12:11 pm
I just talked with Kristy on Yahoo IM as she was getting ready to
take Conor to the hospital. They want him to go in for a bone
marrow test; they will do it tomorrow and he needs to be in the
hospital overnight. Apparently his white cell count is high and his
platelets and hemoglobin are low, which is not good news. Kristy and
Conor need all our prayers and good thoughts right now. She will
update us when she can.
August 16, 2002 6:41 pm
Is that it IS NOT leukemia. At least not the typical type kids get. He had the
bone marrow test, and the results came back right away, negative, but there are
still tests to be done. They sent us home for the weekend and will call monday
or tuesday when they know something.
These past two days have been the worst of my life. I watched my little boy
learn to be brave and my husband fall apart. I saw so many sick babies it made
me numb. One thing that got me through it was knowing that there were people
all over the world thinking of us and praying for us. Thank you all so much. I
could feel your support and your strength. We had decided not to tell anyone
until we knew more, but as I told darren, there was no way I could go through
this without all of you ladies. you were truely my lifeline these past two days.
I feel relieved that it isn't leukemia, but really I am still in shock. It may
be something much worse that would make luekemia seem like a blessing. At least
I know that is treatable with a good success rate. Right now, we have NO idea
what we are looking at or dealing with. Basically, his WBC are up, his RBC and
hemoglobin are way down. He's not clotting well, and he has a slightly enlarged
spleen and some swollen lymph in his groin. I did notice that a couple of weeks
ago when I was massaging him and put it out of my head a me being paranoid. I
will NEVER second guess myself again. Please continue to keep us in your
thoughts and prayers. I am so grateful you were all there for me.
Everyone all the nurses, even the Dr. a pediatric oncologist could not believe
how "healthy" conor is. everyone kept saying "but he's not even sick!" and he
isn't. No fever, no loss of appetite or listnessness, nothing. He was so brave,
so amazing the whole time. The hardest for me was seeing him in the hospital
garb being wheeled into the OR. I had to go with him and help hold him until
they put him under. The look of pure terror in his eyes, mixed with trying to
be brave broke me. I will never forget the look in his eyes. The bone marrow
aspiration took about 5 minutes and he spent 40 minutes in recovery, when he
came out he was scared and confused, but before long was gulping cookies and
chocolate milk.
I am so proud of him. We all stayed in the one room, even darren and aidan.
______________________________________________________
Conor mommy misses you. I don't think I can ever say that too often or enough. I miss your laughter and your eyes, how they were such a brilliant blue, and seemed to change with your moods from a dark demin to as clear and bright and a summer sky. Your mischievous grin, your squeaky voice, your beautiful smell, and the speckling of freckles down one side of your neck. Oh to hear you say "your so pretty mom" just one more time...
I remember these days so clearly three years ago. THe way we ran out of the house with dishes left on the table. The way we were so sure, so positive it was all a mistake. Sometimes I still think it is. I remember you being so brave, so strong even as you acted the scared little boy you were. I remember your boucny balls and your tricks and your joy to meet the day with "sowhatyouwannatodaymom?"I remember the rain storms we got caught in, and your love of jumping in puddles. I remember the feeling of always being where I was supposed to be when you were near and the feeling of being lost when you weren't by my side. Like I am now. I remember you.
Not a moment goes by that you are not in my thoughts and close in my heart and right there in my head. I still stop when we are out some where and I look around for another hand to hold, still confused that although I have aidans warm hand in mine, my other is cold and empty. I still reach for you, I still peak around the corner to look for you, and still wait for you to come to the top of the stairs and yell " MOM! Come here....is this pull up heavy or what?" Or "come here mom" and pull my head on to your lap so you could play with my hair.
Aidan misses you, daddy misses you, all (Your)the girls miss you, and brookie and everyone just misses you.
I've read those emails above so many times Conor, over and over in my head. I remember the day before, Going to the Fort Edmonton Park, your face as you saw that steam train coming around the bend. Your pure joy as you clapped your hands when we rode it. The way you cried to be carried that day because your legs hurt and we didnt know..we just didn't know. I remember the smells of that day, the shirt you were wearing, the bath we gave you that night that made me decide to bring you in to the doctor with aidan the next day. The big bruise on your back, that just seemed to scream at me. I remember holding you for blood work. I remember telling you it was all going to be ok, I remember the phone call the next morning. I can see it like a movie in my head. I can still feel the knot in my stomach my breath escaping from my throat as I heard the doctor say "his tests came back abormal, I need to see Conor now..."how when we arrived at the ER no one quite wanted to look us in the eye. The words, the car ride in the fear...and all the while you holding my hand. I remember it all Billy. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I love you billy.
Mom
Wednesday, August 3, 2005 10:39 PM CDT
.
Happy Birthday Aidan! We love you. All last week Aidan was so excited for his birthday to come. One morning he woke up and I asked him what he dreamt about. He told me he dreamt about his birthday and his cake. So I asked him what he'd like for his birthday and he told me he wanted a triceratops cake. So we excitedly talked about that for awhile and when I told him about the candles and that he could wish for anything he wanted when he blew them out he stopped for a moment and thought. Then I said "so what will you wish for?" (I was hoping he'd tell me what I could buy him for a present) He got kind of quiet and smiled softly and said "I'll wish for Conor"
Aidan we love you. I am so proud you are my boy. YOu are so smart and funny and so absolutely wonderful in so many ways. You are so very much your own person and full of your own ideas and strenghts and gifts. It truely is a joy to be your mom. I love that you are my boy. And I love that on the day that conor was the happiest I've ever seen him, your birthday, you thought of him, your big brother. I will never forget the joy on conor's face when he finallhy got to see you and hold you and be your big brudder. We love you aidan. Happy thrid birthday little willy.
mom dad and conor
Saturday, June 18, 2005 6:45 PM CDT
Wow three updates in three days. I must be coming out from under my rock!
I couldn’t let today pass without sharing what Aidan did today. Today was the annual “SHORT CUT TO THE CURE” held here in wetaskiwin. I was somewhat involved on the committee and my job was to take pictures of the shavees today. As soon as we arrived aidan began asking when it would be his turn to shave his head. We hadn’t fundraised, I never even considered that Aidan would shave his head. I thought that when aidan was older and he came to me and asked me to do it then that would be ok. But I wasn’t going to suggest it or make it happen. SO he kept asking and asking and ASKING, so I told the organizers that he wanted to do. And sure enough when they call his name, he went up on stage and shaved his head. 
.
And how proud he was that he looked like his brother when we came home. He was so proud and so happy that he shaved his head! 
.
The woman shaving Aidan’s head was one of he shavees last year that shaved her head in memory of loved ones, including conor that died from cancer. So I thought it was great she shaved Aidans! AND, she was also the one who helped conor shave his daddy’s head the first year we participated in the SHORT CUT TO THE CURE.
All proceeds from the event go to the cross cancer institute towards the PET scanner. Today’s total was $65000 !!
I was so moved and so proud of Aidan, especially since it was his own idea and that he went through with it and never once made a fuss. He decided he wanted to do this for his brother and that was that. Sometimes its hard figuring out the needs of a strong willed, determined two year old, but this shows that those qualities are going to take him far in life, and that what I saw today is just a glimpse of the caring, strong, and loving person he is and of what is to come. If anyone wants to make a donation to the short cut in on Aidan’s behalf, in conor’s memory, please let me know. As I said I didn’t raise pledges before today because it was a last minute thing, but it will mean a lot to me if Aidan can turn in some pledges.
I went there today, half heartly really. Not really sure how I felt, being involved with the event. Its just been such a rough few weeks. But being there, and watching my son stand tall and shave his head for his brother, made me see things in such a different, clearer light. When I grow up I want to be just like my boys.
And on the same note, Brooklyn (Conor’s friend) and good friend of our family, hell she IS family, decided she want to not just cut her very long hair, she wants to shave her head for conor. She wanted me to do it now, today! Her mom and I and her had a long talk and she decided that she does want to shave but she wants to raise money first and give it to a family who needs it. So I will be telling you more about that in the next few weeks. Brooklyn was conor’s best friend, his girlfriend and I am so very glad that she is very close to aidan. Love you Brookie.
Kristy
Friday, June 17, 2005 0:32 AM CDT
Conor I got a soccor ball bouncy ball again yesterday.i have three total, but its only my second one ever. The first one I got at your memorial it was with all those bouncy balls we had to throw around. Though I am not sure what happened to that one. The second one, a green one, I got out of the machine that you and I always got them from. The grocery store lobby one. Aidan and i go there often now too, and each and every time I have to fill my pockets with quaters so that he can get a boucny ball. But one is never enough. He fills his little hands and stuff them into his pockets, and always, always one or more of the balls fall otu of his hand and bounce around the lobby. And always one or more ends up way underneath the candy machines and i have to crawl under there, with all the dust and dirt and candy wrappers while Aidan squeal, 'my ball, my ball, my bouncy ball!!". there is a pretty butterfly one there conor. Right up top. Just sitting there. It reminds me how much you wanted that soccor ball one. the one you never did get despite hundreds of trips to that machine. Hopefully one day I will get that butterfly one. I will put it on the buffet, next to your soccor ball one, and I will think that at that moment it will make me smile, that we can have that to share.
There are bouncy balls everywhere. EVERYWHERE in the house! Remember how much aidan loves them? He likes all kinds of balls though. Remember the easter bunny brought him that winnie the pooh ball at easter. Funny how the Easter bunny knew to bring aidan's stuff to the hospital too huh? GUess he knew that Aidan was always there with you. You two were so close. Some one asked me today if aidan remembers you. They seemed surprised when I said yes, he talks about you all the time. He told me the other day that you taught him the song he'd been singing. A song in that same made up, silly gibberish language you used to use. Aidan uses it too. Exactly. He told that you taught him that song and he sat up and pointed at your picture and said "my brother conor' and when i said 'oh that's so nice aidan, when did he teach you that?" aidan causually said, "yesterday in my sandbox, conor played with green percy..." but its not just those kind of things.. he remembers stuff. I hope its because all along he's seen you, that you have been right there next to him and I hope, I hope so much that he never outgrows that, never ever ever learns to fear that or to think that its anything other than ok to know his big brother is right there with him.
Aidan and I babysat a little baby the other day conor! oh he was so cute and he smelled so yummy. I know, babies usually smell like pukey milk and poopy but you know what, theres another smell, one so fresh and new and full of wonder and hope and anticipation and life and joy...well lets just say its a nice smell. Anyway, Aidan just loved him. he lid on the floor with this little baby and I could see you three years ago laying on the floor with aidan. Wanting so bad to play with him and not quite understanding why he wouldn't just take the rattle and play with it. I remember you so proudly giving Aidan his first bath, holding him with such a grin on your face and smiling. I remember you putting your head so close to his, delicatly touching his head, amazed at the soft spot, that pulsated. Your eyes just full of wonder. I remember you saying "her little buddy, take it, just take it, play with it, you want the toy, here you go..." and looking at me so confused that he wouldn't. He was just a few days old then. I remember you asking for aidan whenever he wasn't near. wanting to hold him, cuddle him, just be near him. Always near him. The times you'd have me call home from the hospital so that daddy could put aidan on the phone and you could talk to him. You'd say "Only my brudder came make me better". And he did. And the concerned way you brought him his teddy when he did the apheresis for you, and the time you wrapped your bunny finger puppet in a hospital face cloth so he could take it to surgery with him for the bone marrow harvest. How you loved to drag him around by his neck, and how you loved to snatch all the trains away from him or thunk him over the head with one of them because they were your trains. and how you decided we needed to buy two of everytrain so aidan could have one too. Thats why there is two Toby's in that picture of you. Toby is the first train we bought aidan isn't it?
Conor the memories are so clear, so there. You are still so near. Yesterday we had a sudden thunder storm with hail and sheets of hard rain. I opened the window and Aidan and I sat watching the storm on the couch. Aidan laughed at me when i ran outside to close the tent up. When I came in, he hugged me and said " i love you mom" then "you know who else loves me?.....Conor" the he pointed to your picture and said, my brother"
its late baby. but wanted to tell you about that boucny ball. I know you understand. And I know you know that things have been hard for me lately, but I expect it will always be that way, come in waves like this, and reach in and grab at me when I least expect it. Thats why I try to keep you so close each day, say your name, keep your picture around, keep you near so that I will never ever forget. Because those moments I do, the moments I let it go for just a bit are the hardest, because there comes that moment that i remember and its so fresh and raw all over again.
I miss you.
Did I tell you today? I love you.
mom
Wednesday, June 15, 2005 10:43 AM CDT
You know it never ceases to amaze me that it shocks me to see conor’s name written on list for angel kids. Not too long ago we were having a memorial for all the children that have passed away at our hospital. A few of us parents were given lists to call other bereaved parents and invite them. I was looking through the pages and I stopped at one name and just stared. Conor Ford…..conor ford…gee I Know that name. It was weird kind of hovering over myself kind of feeling. It was everything coming back and punching me in the stomach. My head felt light and for a moment I couldn’t breath. It was so raw. It was if I’d forgotten he had died. For in some place in my head he was still here. Perhaps downstairs playing trains or outside on the swing. Not on some one’s list of dead kids. I was never able to make those calls. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be the one to shock some other parent back into the reality that their child was dead. I know they know it, just like I do, but I couldn’t be the one to tell them.
I thought of this just know because I made my trip over to Julianna’s page and I was so pleased to see that her dad, Terry has put the Monster link page back up. I happily followed the link and right there at the top the page was “ angel conor silly billy” and it hit me. Just like that. Strange. Anyway, I am so glad to see the page back up. I think the links to other pages is vital to the caringbridge community, and I am glad conor’s page is there. I didn’t mean for any of this to imply I was upset by seeing his name there or I didn’t want it there because I do. Seeing his name makes him real. It’s a harsh reminder that he isn’t here playing trains or hitting his brother over the head with them, but its also a reminder that people still speak his name and that is he is remembered. Thanks Terry for putting the page back up! Not just for me, but for all the parents who can use the support of a community that will celebrate the little moments, and who will laugh and cry and hold you up when you need it. I’ve been out of the loop a bit for awhile. Not updating, not signing pages, not visiting many. There are times when I just need a break. Times when it’s hard to relive certain moments or to feel joy for other families. But I always do feel those things and I always, in my heart celebrate the happy times and silently reach out a hand during the sad times.
Aidan is two years, and 10 months old this month. The exact age conor was when he was diagnosed. I watch him so closely for the signs I saw in conor that I thought I may have missed. I watch him for things that may or may not be there…and you know I just can’t see what I may have missed in conor. Even the things, after conor’s diagnosis I looked back on and suddenly seemed so sinister, so THERE, and I berated myself for missing them, weren’t really there. It seems so many of the ‘signs’ are all part of
just being nearly three. Then of course is the voice in the back of my mind that sneaks up and says “well what if they aren’t? what if they are all signs and aidan is sick too?”…I stuff that voice so far back that I Think it is gone for good, but it often sneaks back when I least expect it. Truth is, I don’t think it will ever go away. It makes me more aware, a little more crazy but I think it will always be there, even when I don’t hear it. I get so angry that I can’t have that innocence back. To when a cough was just a cough and a bruise was from playing too hard and just being a boy. I used to smile at conor’s bruises on his knees. They made him such a boy. My boy.
Tuesday, June 7, 2005 9:34 AM CDT
Thank you everyone for supporting Cassandra!! As you can see from the picture she FINISHED her FIRST triathalon. If you look close you can see just two of her insprirations on her shirt :).
Monday, May 23, 2005 2:06 PM CDT
From Justin’s webpage:
Wednesday, May 25, 2005 8:46 AM CDT
Hello Everyone
Today Justin went to heaven to be with God. He is no longer in pain or worried or scared.
He kicked Cancer in the BUTT and left his cancer behind.
Justin was born on October 1, 1987 in Peace River where he lived until moving to Fort Sask in 2003. Justin was always an active child, demanding, stubborn and strong. All good qualities.
He was a sport minded child, played hockey until Grade 10. Then switched to football.
Justin was a brave young boy who struggled with Leukemia AML. Justin was diagnosed on November 23, 2003. He fought a tough intense battle and became cancer free in May of 2004. After seven months of cancer free Justin relapsed on Jan 10, 2005.
We knew that AML was a tough cancer,
We knew the chemo was intense,
We knew it would be tougher to stay in remission,
We knew the toughest job was to survive.
Again he braved the chemo and fought hard. Once again we placed our faith in Justin’s Oncology doctors and God. Not once have we regretted our wonderful doctors and staff. After repeated treatments of chemo the Leukemia just never went away. The Stollery Hospital has done wonders for us and know that if you ever need a children’s hospital that is the place to be. Please make all donations in kind to the Stollery Foundation “Oncology Unit” You may mail donations to us and we will bring it them into the Stollery. Our address is at the bottom of the webpage.
I want people to please sign the guest book one final time. I will be closing the webpage very soon. As Justin is up in heaven and not here for me to report on his antics. Become a bone marrow donor or give blood on a regular basis. This is how you can help others like Justin. Thank you
I will always cherish my child, speak of him freely, talk to him tons and know that from up there is his looking down on us, helping God guide us with the rest of our lives. Do not be shy to laugh with Justin, tell him stories because he certainly is listening and laughing with us.
Please keep in touch with the webpage, as I will announce his memorial when I know more facts. If you cannot come to help us send Justin up to heaven please sign the guest book or send a letter for us to read.
This is a verse Justin wanted me to put here:
I must leave you for a little while,
Please do not grieve and shed wild tears
And hug your sorrow to you through the years,
But start out bravely with a gallant smile
And for my sake and in my name
Live on and do all things the same;
Feed not your loneliness on empty days,
But fill each waking day in useful ways,
Reach out your hand in comfort and in cheer
And I in turn will comfort you and hold you near;
And never, never be afraid to die,
For I am waiting for you in the sky!
Glad you fought the battle Justin. You are the King, you rock and now you are in peace.
We love you and always will, we will miss you ever so much.
Your Dad, myself, Kody, Quintin and Kelton
Please give us today to say good-bye to Justin in private, no calls or visits!
Dear Lord, not our will but yours. Into thine hands we commend the spirit of this faithful child of God. Prepare a place for him now in your heavenly kingdom.
Amen
Love Momma Bear
85 Westwood Green
Fort Sask, Alberta
T8L 4M7
murrayireland@shaw.ca
** A very big thank you to Marcia for the drawing of Conor she sent me on Mother's day. And thank you to Rita for your talant and for taking the time to draw my son and capturing his spirit so well.**
Thank you to everyone who helped Cassandra surpass her goal!! Cassandra races next weekend I hope everyone will be there with her in spirit helping her cross that finish line. She’s shown so much support for so many of us, by doing this I’d like to show her how much we support her. So if you can, please send me picture of you wearing your “NEVER GIVE UP” bracelet. I want to put them all together to send to her for the big day! I tried to figure out a way to do this without her knowing and surprise her but the truth is, I couldn’t! I am so touched by her desire to raise awareness and funds for research and in doing so honour my son and so many others.
One of those is Justin Ireland. Justin is an incredible teenager we had the honour of meeting while in hospital here in Edmonton. Justin has fought a long battle since November 2003 with AML. In January of this year Justin relapsed and shortly after his family accepted the news that there was nothing else that could be done for Justin, and his family has done an incredible of helping Justin make every moment count. He has been surrounded by friends and family and as soon as they heard Cassandra was running in honour of him, the bracelets began selling faster than we could have them made. Justin has inspired so many people and his way of putting others before himself has left me speechless at times. I don’t know if you’ve seen the guestbook entry he left in conor’s guestbook recently but it’s pretty powerful. Despite all he is going through, he stopped to take the time to tell me not to worry about conor, that he won’t be alone much longer and that he (Justin) is looking forward to seeing him again….I didn’t know much in advance that conor was going to die. I always feared it but I always hoped and prayed I was wrong. But we never had that certainty that he would die. It was only a matter of two days from the time things took a turn for the worst and the day he died. It was fast. But Justin and his family have lived with that knowledge for months now, and have surrounded themselves with love, family, and support. But more than that there is a feeling of Peace that surrounds this knowledge. I’ve found it hard to deal with, and found it hard to say the words, as if I was stealing hope from him and his family. They have shown me though there can still be hope, its just for different things. Right now, Justin is having a lot of pain and is feeling very tired. They have managed to get his pain under control and that is good. His family is asking that “ God will take Justin up to Him soon so that this phase of Justin's life is not long. I am asking for a mass prayer for peace.” Please help his family in doing whatever it is you do, pray however it is you pray and help Justin and his family.
AT times like this I want to scream and cry and yell at everyone I see at the unfairness of it all. But I also know that that is not going to help. I’ve been dong that for months, taking out my anger and my fear and my confusion on all of those around me. In many ways Justin has shown me so much of what I hoped conor would’ve said and done and thought had he been able to tell me. In some ways Justin is healing me. I used to get so angry when people told me how Conor affected their lives, how conor’s life and conor’s death helped them. How I was strong and how amazing my family was. I was so angry because it all came at such a cost. I see now that people aren’t saying they are happy for my loss because it made their lives better, but they were saying that in little ways it impacted their lives, and my loss helped to put things in perspective. This really isn’t coming out the way I wanted to….I want to say how much being around Justin and his family has helped me deal with the death of my own child, how seeing his family go through this has enabled me to see myself and my family from the outside. I see now what people meant by saying we were strong and amazing and incredible. I see now why people said, “I don’t know how you do it” because I am thinking those things now. And I have to stop and realize that I do know how they do it….you just do. There is no choice; you do what has to be done. I read long ago and just again recently that Terry Fox’s mom once said “perhaps Terry wasn’t meant to live” I know the pain in that knowledge and I know that can say the same thing for conor. I knew that in my heart all along, and I did what I needed to do to give him the best life I could for as long as I could. The truth is though Conor gave me the best life he could give me for as long as he could.
I miss you Conor. I love you. I thank you for being my son. I am so sure I heard you the other night. I am sure I heard you call me. I wish I had thought to arrange a sign with you. Some way that you could tell me you are ok, and where you are. I know what I believe, I know what I feel but the truth is, I will never truly know and fear that I may never see you again, never be with you again. I know we didn’t have anything we said would be a ‘sign’ but there were so many things that were just ours. Maybe you can somehow show me that one day, we will be together again.
We went to the train museum yesterday with the girls. We had so much fun. Aidan loved riding the train! And the day before that we went to reading and book signing with Christopher Awdrey. The man who’s daddy wrote the very first Thomas book and created the whole Thomas the tank engine series. His dad used to make up stories while he was sick in bed as a little boy and those stories turned in more stories and he drew pictures and made a train for him and whole Thomas craze began. I was so moved to meet the man who Thomas was created for. Thomas meant so much to you; I had to thank him for bringing that joy into your life and the lives of so many others.
Last week was Brooklyn’s sixth birthday! Can you believe that? SIX. Remember when you first met? You weren’t even 2 yet. Seems hard to believe doesn’t it? I heard Brooklyn tell aidan the other day that you were her very first boyfriend and that she misses you. She took out a picture of you and her and was telling aidan all about you and the fun you two used to have. I am so glad Brooklyn is there to help aidan remember you…he loves her very much too.
Last weekend we went to Fort Edmonton Park. Do you remember that place? The big park with the steam engine that we rode in and out of the park on? How your eyes lit up and you began to shake and jump up and down when you saw the train? How your little eyes lit up and your mouth formed that big “O” you were so excited. You were overwhelmed by getting to ride on the real steam engine. We weren’t there for a train ride though. Kids with Cancer held a memorial there for all us families whose children have died. There were a lot of us parents there, missing our children, sharing your lives and remembering. All I could think about while we were there was that day. The day we were there with you and how you loved that train and all the log houses and nana bought you the train magnets and how it was the very next day you found out you were sick…
Aidan told me out of the blue the other day “conor used to sing me the bob the builder song…he’s my brother”
And do you know what else? Aidan sang the “rockabye Thomas song” not many people know that song, just you and me, and maybe daddy. When I asked aidan who told him that song he said “my friend” and when I asked who he said “conor”. I don’t know baby maybe you have already given me that sign I so desperately am looking for…
To those of you that still visit this page, thank you for still coming, for still remembering and supporting me through all my crazy times. This road will never be easy, and I will never be who I was, but I am slowing starting to see who I am…I know its not that crazy angry woman that has lost the edit button in her head and says the craziest things…I hope she is gone, but if she does appear again, please be patient. This grief doesn’t come with a road map. I have no idea what’s around the bend or when I will end up back at the same place I started.
Kristy
Sunday, May 8, 2005 8:48 AM CDT
Happy Mother's Day
I started this entry writing about all my differnt mother's days and then I stopped. I realized it really didn't matter what I did, or what present I got or where we went. What really mattered was that each and every one was spent with my boys, with my family.
Last year and this year, some one very special and very important is missing and will always be missing and nothing can make up for that or replace conor.I will forever be his mother and I am forever greatful that I got to be HIS mom. That he chose me to be the one to give birth to him, hold him, care for him, nurse him, play with him, and learn from him. Four years, three months 17 days and 2 hours is not nearly enough time to have held him though. Not nearly enough. In my heart I know I did things my way and my only regret is the way things ended. Everything in between I know I did right. Just loving him was enough to make him happy, and me happy and i am so glad I did things the way I wanted. I nursed him whenever he wanted and wherever he wanted. For hours at a time while we lay cuddled in bed, on the bus downtown, in the restuant, on the side of a bike path....I slept with him in my bed every night, I let him stay up late and watch tv or run around outside. I let him eat cookies for breakfast and ice cream for supper. I let him play in the dirt and helped him make huge mud puddles. I let him be a little boy and I know I gave him everything that i could and that he wanted and needed. I would've gave even more If I could've to keep him here. All those things can't ever compare to the joy I got from what he gave me by simply being his mom.
And there is my aidan. My sweet precious aidan that i fall in love with more everyday. Who wipes away my tears and holds my hands and is teaching me every day, again, how to smile and how to laugh. beautiful aidan who keeps me strong and sleeps with his feet in my face.Aidan with his crinkly nose laugh and his stubborn streak and incredible imagination. He has began making up stories for me.
Last night we made some hurricane lamp candles with mason jars, sand, gravel and candles. We set them all up outside and had hot chocolate and aidan fell asleep wrapped in a quilt and his thomas blanket. Before falling asleep he told us a story.
"once apon a time there was a pirate. The pirate lived on a boat. And then a monster came on the boat and ate the pirate. The end." I was pretty impressed :). It even has a beginning, a middle and an end.
Happy Mother's Day. I am looking forward to a day of just being a mom. Going for a walk. Having a picnic and playing with my son. I'll be rememberin conor and all his silly, loving ways, and I will be missing him. I remember his last mother's day with me. The day he got his first pass from the hospital after transplant and we played soccer in the parking lot behind our apartment. It was a magical day. Maybe today I can find some of that magic.
Moms celebrate you today, but also celebrate those sticky fingers, and running noses, sloppy grins and dirty foot prints on the floor.
kristy
Thursday, April 28, 2005 3:49 PM CDT
Two, Not One
My dear friends
My grieving has no end
I know my tears give you fear
I'm sorry I'm this way
My darling son
That I adore
Took here on earth
His final breath
From this day on
Here in my home
One will be missing
One will be gone
Remember back,
when we all laugh?
Now all I want
Is if you can
Sharewith me
My past, my memories Of Him!!!!
That's all I ask
That's all I got
For I will never
Forget once!!!!
That I had two
Not One
Two darling sons
Two handsome ones
Now that one's gone
One that for ever
Will be loved
One that no longer
Will come home
I need your strength
I need your prayers
I need you friend
To help me share
That I had Two, Not one
~written by Ileana Villahermosa
In Memory of her son, Felipe A. Pagan
November 20, 1973 - April 13, 1999
Orlando, Florida
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Its incredible how adaptable we are. We just are. Look how the changing of the seasons. At the end of hot summer at the first sign of a cool wind or changing color of the leaves we quickly dig out our warm sweaters, wool scarfs, mittens and touques. We can’t wait to don those cozy turtle necks and lined boots. And when winter sets in, the really cold days of down filled parkas and sub zero boots we happily bundle up and head on our way. Before long that snow and ice is diappearing and at the first sign of sun we shed our winder layers and bare our pale skin to the warmth. Those cozy sweater and warm woollen mittens are replaced with sandles and shorts even though those warm days are still quite cool , in fact probably as cool as the early fall days that prompted us to drag out our sweaters in the first place. But because it’s the beginning of a new season, we are seeing the warmth and not the cool air. Just as in the fall we welcome the cool and are saying good bye to the warmth. Its just a matter of wrapping ourselves in that cloak of warm to protect us from the cold or removing that same cloak to open ourselves to the sun.
We adapt. That’s what we do. Even to things we don’t anticipate. “you’re child has cancer” after what seems like a brief moment of confusion and fear and sadness you dive in. You have to. You say things like “its JUST a three day chemo stay”. “Oh its only a ½ hour surgery” things that months earlier without the insert of cancer would’ve been earth shattering and terrifiying all on their own. But once cancer was introduced everything else was ‘only” and ‘just’ as if it wasn’t threatening any more.
You learn pretty quickly to make the best of it and call hospital stays “going for a sleep over” and “having a party at the hospital”. You make it your second home. You move cities, you stop working you change everything just to make the best of the situation, be near your child and fight with all you have. You fight the cancer but you adapt to having it in your life. You live with it, work with it, all the while doing whatever the hell you can to get rid of it.
And then the cancer somehow wins. Some how despite all you have done, all everyone else has done, thing just don’t work out how you want them to. And suddenly you are again adapting to preparing your child to die. You some how do it. Some how, some part of you knows how to do this. How to prepare your child to die, how to help him leave you. How to hold his hand and tell him its ok and say goodbye. You do it and it feels so wrong and agaist everything you are and want and believe in. It’s the most unnatural thing…and suddenly its not so easy to adapt. Suddenly its not so easy to accept. We adapt. Its what we do…but adapting to living without your child is not something I think we were ever programmed to do.
There is no cloak of warmth to wrap your self in to scare off the chill and there is no way to remove it to let the warmth and the sun in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Conor I miss you so much baby. I just can’t seem to figure this all out. I am closer now than I was even a week ago to letting this into my head, into my heart that you are gone. But somehow that doesn’t solve the problem of accepting it, dealing with it and some how working it into my life. I think of you, of the way you lived your life and I KNOW there are so many things that I need to do differently now. Its really kind of strange that instead of embracing and holding things dearer to me now that you are gone, I instead push them away and I don’t hold sacred the things I once did. I need to some how get that back. I think I’ve lost so much more than just you. I lost me. I lost who I was. I keep searching for you and at the same time I am looking for the me, that you made me. I don’t know who I am without you.
I saw you the other night as I was falling asleep. I really saw you. Your eyes before mine, your head on the pillow. I know you were there. I had called to you and you came. I don’t remember much after that because it was the first time I feel asleep so quickly and slept so soundly. Did you hold my hand?
I know you are near. But I am still so angry that near is all you will ever be. I want you here…with me…with aidan…with daddy.
I miss you stink.
Did I tell you today?
I LOVE YOU
Mommom
Friday, April 22, 2005 10:35 PM CDT
i never actually lost a journal entry before. usualy I can go back and find it...not this time. So this is going to be short.
the radiothon was a success. 1.3 million dollars. WOW. thanks to anyone that was able to tune in and help support the stollery children's hospital.
and THANK YOU to Casssandra for all that you are doing. For working and training so hard for this triathalon. For wearing conor's name on your shirt, for the orange "NEVER GIVE UP" bracelets. For honour my son, and many others. For hounoring Justin. For never giving up on helping to find a cure, and funding awareness and support.
thank you to everyone that is supporting cassandra and sporting your bracelet. It means so much to me that you are remembering conor and his spirit and hounoring heros like Justin that don't give up. That don't know what it means to give up - goals may change, but you don't give up.
One of the most difficult parts of the radiothon today, for me, was hearing justin and monika speak. for so many reasons...that you were both there that you are both so giving...
kristy
Friday, April 22, 2005 10:35 PM CDT
i never actually lost a journal entry before. usualy I can go back and find it...not this time. So this is going to be short.
the radiothon was a success. 1.3 million dollars. WOW. thanks to anyone that was able to tune in and help support the stollery children's hospital.
and THANK YOU to Casssandra for all that you are doing. For working and training so hard for this triathalon. For wearing conor's name on your shirt, for the orange "NEVER GIVE UP" bracelets. For honour my son, and many others. For hounoring Justin. For never giving up on helping to find a cure, and funding awareness and support.
thank you to everyone that is supporting cassandra and sporting your bracelet. It means so much to me that you are remembering conor and his spirit and hounoring heros like Justin that don't give up. That don't know what it means to give up - goals may change, but you don't give up.
One of the most difficult parts of the radiothon today, for me, was hearing justin and monika speak. for so many reasons...that you were both there that you are both so giving...
kristy
Friday, April 22, 2005 10:35 PM CDT
i never actually lost a journal entry before. usualy I can go back and find it...not this time. So this is going to be short.
the radiothon was a success. 1.3 million dollars. WOW. thanks to anyone that was able to tune in and help support the stollery children's hospital.
and THANK YOU to Casssandra for all that you are doing. For working and training so hard for this triathalon. For wearing conor's name on your shirt, for the orange "NEVER GIVE UP" bracelets. For honour my son, and many others. For hounoring Justin. For never giving up on helping to find a cure, and funding awareness and support.
thank you to everyone that is supporting cassandra and sporting your bracelet. It means so much to me that you are remembering conor and his spirit and hounoring heros like Justin that don't give up. That don't know what it means to give up - goals may change, but you don't give up.
One of the most difficult parts of the radiothon today, for me, was hearing justin and monika speak. for so many reasons...that you were both there that you are both so giving...
kristy
Thursday, April 21, 2005 12:46 AM CDT
This week - yesterday, today and tomorrow the Stollery children’s hospital foundation STOLLERY CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL FOUNDATION and 630 CHED are holding a radiothon to raise money for the Stollery children’s hospital. This is one of the two hospitals that conor was treated in. The Stollery hospital is an amazing place that made being in the hospital as fun a place that it could be under the circumstances. I can’t say enough how much I am grateful for all that they offered conor, aidan and our family.
The days when nothing would get conor out of bed, except for the promise of a trip to the beach. The indoor playroom on the 4th floor. The only problem I ever had with the beach was that it wasn’t open 24hours! It was a place for conor to escape and just play. He was able to access toys of all kinds, sand boxes and water play. He could play ball, ride on toys and games and puzzles. Aidan took some of his first steps there, conor and aidan played together there and in all it was just fun. The beach is just a fun place for kids. I think conor said it best on one of his first visits there when he painted a picture of a rainbow. It was his fourth hospital stay, his second chemo stay and he looked forward to going to the beach that morning so much. I remember watching him paint his picture and hand it to me with a smile on his face. When I asked him what it was, he told me it was a rainbow. His favourite color.
I remember the day conor has his spleen out. He was somewhat nervous and hesitant about what was to come, and the thought of surgery coming for him and wheeling him down on a bed was just too much for him (and Me!) and the child life worker and nurses came into conor’s room with a little vw car for him to drive to surgery. Conor was thrilled and all our fears were forgotten as we followed conor into the OR driving that car. I was able to gown up, in full OR garb and accompany conor right to the bed and he was sedated right there in the car.
There was no end to the caring of the nursing staff for conor, some of who became some of his closest friends. When conor came up with his rules the nurses and staff did all they could to accommodate them. The hospital, the staff, the programs were there for conor when he needed them, and they will continue to be them for others.
The hospital has so much to offer the children, but they will always have a need for more. There will always have a need for more toys and supplies and equipment and support. Unfortunately there will always be a need for the Stollery hospital so there will always be a need for your support. Please do what you can to help.
Kristy
Monday, April 11, 2005 12:29 AM CDT
It has been said that my being upset by certain comments in the guestbook are purely my own ‘misperception.’ This comment was emailed to me. I guess the fact that I closed it down still doesn’t get the point across that I needed a break to figure things out and that confrontations and advice and theories on how to fix me are not what I need. I do prefer silence over comments that in my opinion do nothing more that to make the writer feel better because they have done something. I think it’s very selfish and leaves me feeling empty and hurt. Why any one would want to do that is beyond me. I live in a world of hurt, why would you want to contribute to it? How ever small?
I put the grieving parents do’s and don’ts at the top of the page for a reason. It says how I feel. It says what I need. IF you want to come here its for a reason isn’t it? That conor touched your life, that because of that you still care for my family. I get that. I get that like me, many of you feel conor here and come here for a little bit of that, because really its all we have. In one of the many grief books I have read I came across a quote from one mom who was so greatful for her friends for being there for her. She had been afraid they would all disappear because they didn’t know what to say or do. They were obviously greatly saddened by this woman’s child’s death, and instead of remaining ignorant or waiting until something happened they all got together and read book after book on being a bereaved parent. They used this as a guide to help their friend in the months and years that followed. I don’t think I have ever read a truer, more moving account of love or friendship. They thought about her, her family and not just how they thought they could help, but learned how they really could help.
No one, absolutely no one can presume to empathize or understand unless you have been here. And really, each illness, each death and each grief is so vastly different. Each grief and mourning process is different for everyone. Each response, each need is different. What works for some is the last thing that works for some one else, and may even hurt or offend. I certainly can’t explain it, hell what gets me through changes from day to day from moment to moment. What keeps me up and what brings me down is ever changing. What drives me to keep getting up every day is Aidan. Aidan, Darren and I, are a family. That is what keeps me going. Some don’t have that. Some run from that. All that I understand. I can see each and every side of grief, and it’s not hard to see the different reactions and what works for some. I know people that have responded to the death of their child by doing things that I for one don’t agree with. But who am I to judge? Who am I to tell them that what they are doing, the only piece of joy and happiness they can find in their darkest of days, is wrong? I don’t. I won’t. I can say I care. I can say I worry, but ultimately I support, because that above all is most important. I have never said not to say anything at all. But yes, its what I prefer if what you do say is in some way going to upset me. YOU should think about what you are saying, what you are doing, you should stop to consider that “gee Kristy has never mentioned God or Praying or any time of religious comments on her page, perhaps I won’t tell her to pray harder or perhaps I won’t leave that poem about angels and god and heaven and conor being in a better place, perhaps I will TAKE THE TIME to understand kristy, what she has said and written and I will support her the way she needs to be supported.” And if you can’t do that, that is fine. Come feel conor’s presence, think of my son, my beautiful boy, think of me, of my family and say so. A simple “ I thought of you today” is so very meaningful. But what I love the most above all is memories of conor. Say his name, send me pictures, write memories about him, and leave notes for aidan on how much his brother loved him. If you have to worry about crossing a line or offending or saying too much or preaching to me, then you probably are. And don’t say anything.
So often I have contemplated ending the site, and I haven’t and putting the password on it was a test of sorts I guess. I am not ready to do so yet. This page has been my outlet and my support for so very long, and it has been your connection to conor throughout this illness, and now it has become my connection to conor in his death. I feel him next to me as I type. I know he is with me. But knowing and liking and accepting are all different. The only thing I want, the only thing I dream of, crave for is to have my son back with me. It’s an impossible dream. I can’t even use the works “I wish” anymore you know that? Its such a common thing “ Oh, I wish I brought that extra coat today” Or “I wish it would stop raining” or “I wish I’d ordered chicken and not beef” I wish. I only have one wish. I wouldn’t be to have conor back with me. It wouldn’t be any of that. It would be that he never got sick, that my husband and my boys and I had walked out that door that morning and the phone never rang and that the past two and half years were a different story altogether. One no one ever heard because we were just another family living our lives safe in the knowledge that if we loved our boys they would be protected. So there are no wishes here now, and no wishes mean no magic and no magic means just day to day of reality.
Its hard to make anyone understand that I can smile and laugh and enjoy and live my life. I can feel, I can do, I can act, I can love, I can like and I can hate. I feel things deeper than I ever did. But I do all that with emptiness inside. I was told the other day by someone that suddenly one day, the magic comes back. Suddenly its just there. I want that. I want that for aidan, and for any other child I may have. Its hard to live a lifetime without magic. When aidan wraps his arms around my neck and says ‘cuddle in mom” and when aidan patters across the floor to my room and crawls in bed and says “I love you mom’ and when aidan laughs his nose crinkles up and it makes everything in me fall in love with him all over again its close. It’s the closest thing I have.
Whatever reason you come here, please make sure that what you say is thought out, and is considered and it is what I need. If you have followed conor’s journey if you have read this site then you know a little about me, my family and who we are. I consider everyone that comes here part of my friend circle, my family and my support system. All I ask is that if you are here you respect this site, and my family. That what you say reflects who we are and what we need.
I have opened the site again for myself, for the support I receive, and the support I have been told I offer to other parents. And mostly because I feel conor here and I know others do as well.
This week, two years ago we left our home, our van full to the roof with everything we owned, every Thomas the tank engine train and accessory and all our love, hopes and dreams securely bundled in their car seats. Our dreams of a healthy son were briefly realized with a perfect transplant with perfect results. For 4 months we had a future that we wanted. April for me will always be a month when my hopes and dreams were at their highest, so its without a doubt that every April from here on in they will be at their lowest.
It’s hard to always have to explain the little moments, the hardest moments, to make people understand the day to day of living your worst nightmare. That each and every time I leave the house I expect to find my son waiting for me when I return. That each time morning I expect to see him tangled in bed next to me. That each night I long to chase him around the house to comb his unruly tangled hair after his bath. That each day I see him in so many places in so many ways its always fresh and new and always hurts to know he will never sit in the mud in the back yard and play with his brother. And I can never again say “let’s get the boys ready to go”. I came across a quote the other day that reads, “ we do not remember days, we remember moments” and it has stayed with me. I remember every moment, each and every moment of conor’s life. Each and every moment is replayed in my head every day.
I never bought conor a train table. There was always and excuse I came up with. Some reason he didn’t need one. After he died, we held a Thomas day at the hospital and with the help of certain wonderful people, and the makers of Thomas, we donated a train table to the hospital in conor’s memory. Each time I visit there I am always filled with so many emotions to see children playing at that table. There are actually two there now. Another family donated one. There is one in the day ward (conor’s) and one on the unit. Both tables are always surrounded by boys and girls of all ages. I know that’s one place conor would’ve spent his days. I sometimes see him there playing along side those children. Its the first place aidan wants to run when we go in to visit. He loves to visit the toy store in Beaumont to play with the train table there (and for the snacks he knows are hidden in back!) So I bought him one. Any day now, aidan will have his own Thomas the tank engine train table. I can’t think of a reason any more not to have one. I know all to well that it’s the little moments, the little joys that not only I remember but aidan will remember. He often tells me he dreams of conor and they play trains. I hope some how they will be.
Kristy
Monday, March 7, 2005 3:22 AM CST
I had so many thoughts for this page after conor died. I thought that one way to keep myself going and to keep conor with me was to keep this page going. To use it as I always had, to vent to heal to inform and to share. It doesn’t seem to be happening and I am not sure why. Tonight is a rare night where I can’t sleep. Usually it’s the opposite; I just want to sleep from the moment I wake. Some one asked me not to long a go to make a list of all the things I do to stop myself from being sad. I figured that wasn’t such a hard thing to do. But it was. Because I was trying too hard to focus on it, find moments in time and actions that stopped me from feeling sadness or this pain. It didn’t take me realize that my whole act of being, every moment of my day is to accomplish that – not be sad. Simply getting out of bed in the morning is a way to stop the pain. Every action, every task, every minute of my day is consumed by just doing. Act happy and I’ll be happy.
Act normal and I’ll be normal. But is so much more than that. And so much less. It seems my one and only reason that is good enough is Aidan. My beautiful, wonderful amazing son whom I fear I don’t give enough credit to. That I fear doesn’t know the depth of my love for him or the depth of my sadness for all he has lost. He has not only lost his brother, he lost the mother he could have had. I saw picture of conor the other day covered from head to toe in mud and dirt. He used to love to play in the old vegetable garden in our yard. He’s spend hours just digging in the dirt. Playing trucks and trains, making mud and just being a little boy. I realized then how much I had changed. How conor’s cancer affected the way I parented my boys and how now, even after it has taken my child, taken my son, it’s still stealing from me and my family. Aidan never got to be that same carefree child conor was. For aidan there was no crawling in the grass to explore or jumping in puddles for the hell of it or going swimming, or sledding or making mud pies. For aidan it was always no, don’t go there, don’t do that, don’t touch that, don’t be around other children. Don’t get sick, don’t get dirty, don’t don’t don’t. Hell I remember conor being face and eyes into the world around him from the moment he could reach out his tiny hand to grasp anything in his reach. I was protective and cautious and I was fearful, but it never stopped me from letting conor explore and learn and touch and grasp and jump in with two feet. Aidan is so hesitant and cautious and so reluctant to try something new. It’s a result of the two years spent growing up in the hospital with a sick big brother. It’s a result of the learned behaviour on my part and of the deep-seated fear that the unthinkable can and does happen. Not just to other people, but to me, to my family too. Cancer is still reaching out and taking things from me.
Aidan is so funny. He is such a joy and full of laughter. The more I relax and the more I see how I affect him, the closer we become and the more light I see in his eyes. He’s healing me and sometime I feel so mad at him for that. For giving me joy and a reason to live and exist when all I want is none of those things. Then I hear conor’s voice in my head saying “come here little willy” Or “we’re a family” or I see him cuddled in a hospital bed content and safe because aidan is there with him. The times conor was scared and sick and the only thing he wanted was his little brother. Aidan gave us so much just by being him. By being our son. Then he gave us nearly two more years with conor and now he is showing me ways to keep going. He has a tremendous weight on his tiny shoulders and yet it carries in all in the guise of a stubborn, whiney, challenging, spirited, strong willed loving and gentle little boy. A boy that just last week dusted of his big brothers tricycle, sat on it and rode. First try. As if he’d been doing it everyday for the past year. He seemed bored by my squeals of delight and shouts of “you did it!” and “hurray!” I think he thought I was a little nuts to tell you the truth. But perhaps he could see through me too. Perhaps he could see the pictures in my head of finding the bike at the Mom and Tot fair and having to have it right then and there. Of bringing it home and needing Brooklyn’s daddy to help me put it together right away because I couldn’t wait one more second for conor to ride that bike. Perhaps aidan could see me in the court yard pushing conor for hours on end because he wasn’t even 2 and his little legs couldn’t reach the peddles. Perhaps aidan remembers in some faraway part of him mind, that It was at the same age of 2 and ½ while I was very pregnant on aidan conor mastered that same bike after weeks of trying. How conor and I would walk round and round our block. Conor would ride and I would waddle and I’d have to push him over the cracks in the sidewalk and help him steer clear of the pebbles. How eventually conor learned to go down the ‘hills’ and around the corners all by himself. How pretty soon I was running to keep up with him. Maybe aidan knows that in every single moment of joy I feel there is a deep and hollow pain. And that I wish I always wish and hope and dream of a different outcome and I fear that some how aidan will read that as being he is not enough. He is so much, and he is just perfect and so very much enough. Except its just not what was supposed to be. It was supposed to be conor there nudging aidan along, showing him how to ride, how to take the corner and how to steer clear of the cracks. This is not the supposed to be I wanted.
Aidan calls me mama still. I love that. It’s his own. Conor never really called me mama. Not until aidan started too. Conor called me mommy and MOM and twisty and big momma.
My head is just full tonight. And my heart is so empty. The good days, like today seem to bring me crashing. Though what was good about today wouldn’t even register with most people. It was just a day. Coffee in the morning, a game of trains. Some laundry washed, a drive in the car, a walk to go exploring, lunch in a café, a nap in the van on the way home, some errands, Darren working on the painting upstairs, aidan and I playing hockey on the patio with a shovel, a baseball bat and a large plastic ball, aidan yelling “He shoots, he scores” aidan playing and laughing with his trains in the dirt, aidan being concerned his hands were full of dirt and confused then overjoyed when I said its ok, its only dirt, that is what little boys do, they get dirty….later while aidan played with friends I made supper and we ate, and later bedtime stories and cuddles in bed. Aidan wanted stories and cuddles and hugs. “Nice hair mama” he said. “Nice eyes”Aidan wanting to be naked boy. A perfectly normal everyday day. The normalcy of it is what I can’t shake. It seems to be what has settled in my heart and won’t let go. Each day is a struggle to hold on to conor and to somehow keep him here, and everyday is a struggle to move forward a little. Its like going forward is letting go, and I want to stay stuck.
I remember the moment I first felt conor. A little movement in my belly that I was unsure of. A bubble, a pressure, his first hello. I’ll never forget that moment. Or the first time I saw his tiny hands reaching for his open mouth sucking as I watched on the ultrasound monitor. He was born ten days late with one hand in the air, and he kept on reaching for every moment of his four years. I hope some how he is reaching out to me now…
These past few weeks have been so difficult. I guess the one-year anniversary of conor’s passing built up and then came crashing down around me. Some one said to me the other day that the first year you have dates, something to look back on…”a year ago today this happened” or “ a year ago today we did this” but after that year anniversary passes that is no longer there. For me that really sank in. I may remember every moment, every event of conor’s life, but its not so easy to mark the days any more. Not that I have forgotten. Not for a second. It seems now; the large milestones aren’t the difficult ones to face because everyone else is aware of those and circles around me to shield me from that day, that one moment in time. When in reality there are million moments in everyday that are just as difficult. Like who knew yesterday would be the first time I made oven fries since Conor died? Perhaps even since he got sick. Who can see that one coming and send flowers or swarms of guestbook entries to comfort me? Who can be here to stumble upon a lost picture or a hidden sock? Who can be here as I lay in bed the other morning still half asleep and hear aidan’s squeaky little voice laughing at Toy Story and for just a moment the past three years are erased and I hear conor? Who sees that one coming? Or I still can’t say table for three without wanting to run screaming. Or that there are things I want to show him or tell him and I turn and realize he’s not here. Or that I remember moments in time so clearly and realize they happened after he’d died. Or that I am running through the grocery store and suddenly I see an image of conor laying in my arms lifeless just as I am reaching for the bread. I keep searching for a roll of film that doesn’t exist, one with pictures I’ve never seen. I stare at the new Thomas catalogue and se all the new characters he would’ve loved. Each day his absence grows more and more and it fills more space than it used too.
I’ve lost touch with friends, I can’t seem to relate to the world like I once did, I see the shadows and I see the rainbows that no one else seems to see. I feel forgotten and left behind and I never know the right things to say to people for it seems I have this dumb ass job of saying the right thing so that not to offend some one with my grief. Not to worry about my being offended by some idiot in Wal-Mart telling me that I’ll miss aidan’s tantrums one day because he’ll grow up and be gone. Who the hell does she think she is? I wanted to run after her and tell her I know all about missing things and that tantrum aidan was having wasn’t a moment for me to wish away. It was a moment that made him very real, very alive and very much with me. Only some one who lives in a safe ignorant cocoon would say something so stupid to some one they don’t know.
I look for signs each day from conor. And most days I am sure I see them. Most days I search to hard and miss the ones right before me. Tonight ‘somewhere over the rainbow” was on a television show. I haven’t heard that song played anywhere but on Julianna’s caringbridge site before I put it here.
Caringbridge is a spectacular place. The people, the community…the family it makes us all is wonderful and so very painful at times. I’ve kind of shied away from it lately. There seems to be so much sadness and loss, and I am at a loss as to how to offer encouragement. But silently I check in on as many as I can and carry so many good wishes in my heart for everyone.
Conor baby mommy misses you. I read aidan “the going to bed book” tonight and he wanted me to sing puff the magic dragon too. Its so hard baby to miss you….
Did I tell you today?
I LOVE YOU
Tuesday, February 22, 2005 9:58 PM CST
Hi. I know its been a long time between updates. They seem to get further apart. Its strange because I come here many times a day myself just to feel closer to conor. Sometimes I even expect to see new updates, and somehow someway its all very differnt. BUt its not and I am somehow learning to deal with that.
This passed week has been one of the hardest yet. Its all so permanent and becoming so real. Denail just doesn't seem to get me through the day anymore. With Conor's death a year ago, a year behind me, a year I've gone on with out him, a year that i've lived while he hasn't well, it just reaches in and makes every part of me ache. I never thought it would be possible to go on without him to exist when he doesn't. when his touch is nowhere to be found. He just simply isn't where I need him to be, snuggled here next to us in bed...I feel like i deserted him, I am leaving him behind. Its so hard to find a balance to keep him close and to some how move forward...
Thank you to everyone that sent flowers, called, signed the guest book and who remembered conor on the anniversary of his death. And for the birthday wishes. Its weird to hear happy birthday the day after your son died. Happy just doesn't seem to fit into that scenario. Conor loved birthdays, his own yes, but he loved to celebrate others too. Remember the cake he made for aidan's first birthday? and the special gifts he always made me on mine. Or the boxes of cookies he'd give me. He was so thoughtful and loving and loved to find a reason to celebrate. I tried to keep that in mind all day and tried to even just a little celebrate me, if not for myself but for aidan, so that he too would find a reason to celebrate the little things each day.
The reason chose to update tongnight was to post a link for Cassandra's TEAM IN TRAINING page. Cassandra is participating in a triathalon in memory of conor. Please visit her page, make a donation and support cassandra in her dedication to finishing this race and bringing awareness and support that will help families fight and find a cure.
CLICK HERE TO SUPPORT CASSANDRA
For every donation of $5 or MORE you will recieve an orange braclet that reads "NEVER GIVE UP". In memory of conor's spirit. Orange was one of conor's favorite colors. If asked what his favorite color was conor would say "rainbow", but he particularly liked orange too.
Thank you Cassandra for doing this. For helping keep conor's memory alive EVERY DAy and for helping the Leukemia and Lymphoma society raise money and awareness.
**A couple of people have emailed me wanting make donations but are unable to do online donations. PLEASE email me if you'd like to donate and recieve a bracelet. Donations can be sent to me or cassandra directly as well. **
Wednesday, February 2, 2005 8:11 AM CST
Baby mommy misses you so very much. It was a year ago that I last heard your sqeaky voice say I love you. That I last saw the conor I knew inside your eyes. It was a year ago that you looked at me and your daddy and told us to keep fighting for you, even though we all knew what we were up agaist. I know you did that for us. I know you knew we needed more time to say good bye. But I also know that you always knew your time with us was short and that you were here to teach us rather than learn from us. That you were and always will be my other half, my soul mate, what created me and completed me. After you died, I felt you still around but I was so angry so mad, so confused, so lost, I lost sight of the fact that you are still with me, in me, around me. You are here, in my heart, in my breath, in my mind, and in my soul. We are and always will be connected.
I long for you. I miss you. I need your touch, your smell, your sound. I need your hand in mine. I miss so deeply your physical presence. I see all the places you aren't. Sitting next to your brother playing trains, the empty space at the dinner table, the extra empty car seat, the absence of your shoes in the hall, the extra space in our bed, the hole inside my heart and the ache inside my belly. Your laughter is just an echo in my head and its hard for me to accept that all I have is your memory.
I know you are with me. I see you. I dream of you. I feel you. But please give me just a little more time to accept that and learn to some how go on knowing that is all I will ever have til we meet again.
I love you. I miss you. You are so very loved.
Momma
Tuesday, January 4, 2005 9:06 PM CST
Friday, January 7, 2005
Please visit
www.caringbridge.org/mi/ireland
***I just found out that one of the boys we know from the hospital has just relapsed. Please keep Justin in your thoughts and prayers. Justin has AML and had been cancer free for 7 months. He now needs a bone marrow transplant. They will be looking for an unrelated donor. Please, if you haven't already please regisiter to become a bone marrow donor, or donate blood and platelets.***
On one particular car trip returning from Calgary we stopped at a book store and bought "Oh the places you'll go" by Dr. Suess. I read it over and over to Conor on that car trip home. A trip that was filled with so much of every emotion. It was just after the DLI had failed to bring conor's donor percentage up and we were heading back home to continue chemo and prepare for another transplant. My heart was broken, my spirit was beaten and I remember reading this book and one particular section standing out at me. The waiting place...seemed we were always in that waiting place. Conor found it extremely funny where it mentioned 'waiting for your hair to grow' because, well, he was!
I had meant to post this on here many times and just never got around to it for some reason or another. But tonight, sitting here, feeling like I am waiting, I always feel like I am waiting, the book came to mind. So I copied it out and put it here. We also had the book read at Conor's memorial last february. Although written as a graduation speech to gratuating students by Dr. Suess, the book is so much more that that. It can apply to anyone and at anytime, at any point in your life you can easily pick it up and see a place where you are. Its kind of like that big map in the mall that says "YOU ARE HERE", and shows you all the other places you can go from there.
Oh, The Places You'll Go!
By Dr. Seuss
Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.
You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.
And you may not find any
That you'll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you'll head straight out of town.
It's opener there
in the wide open air.
Out there things can happen,
Don't worry. Don't stop.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.
Oh!
The places you'll go!
You'll be on your way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll join the high fliers
who soar to great heights.
You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.
You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you'll be best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.
Except when you don't.
Because sometime, you won't.
I'm sorry to say so
but sadly, it's true
that Bang-ups
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.
You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.
You'll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a Slump.
And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.
You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly, they're darked.
A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?
And if you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
You can get so confused
that you'll start to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place
The Waiting Place...
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a yes or a no
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake,
or a pot to boil, or a better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants,
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
No!
That's not for you!
Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
Where Boom Bands are playing.
With banners flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're that kind of a guy!
Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. There are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You'll be famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.
Except when they don't.
Because sometimes, they won't.
I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.
All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.
And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.
But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.
On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.
You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know,
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft,
and never mix up your right foot with your left.
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
Kid, you'll move mountains!
So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixy or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!
A year ago today Conor was due to be admitted for his second transplant. Instead he landed in hospital 2 days early due to fever and all our plans began to change. Everyday for the next month will be an anniversary, a day, an event, and reason to remember, a countdown of sorts to the day when I held my child for the last time. Each day relived.
One more month and it will be a year since I last held my son. A year...hardly seems like yesterday, yet seems a million years ago since I could see his face and smell his sweet smell.
At Christmas I bought a set of polar express stocking hangers. The set consisted of an engine, two passenger cars and a caboose. There were slots on the trains for names. I randomly placed a name card in each. Conor, daddy, aidan, mommy. When I looked I found I had placed Conor as the engine, I as the caboose and Darren and aidan in between.
That to me seemed to say so much. Especially the way we have been feeling lately. Just stuck, unable to move just standing still as everything passes us by.
Conor was our engine, he pulled us along, and he kept us going, pulled us up hills, and stopped us from going too fast into those valleys. He held us in place, led us and showed us what direction to go. Now however we are all just sitting on a siding, alone, waiting needing some one to show us where to go. How can we possibly move without an engine to pull us along? I feel like my brakes will be permanently on and I will forever be stuck here on the tracks, watching all the other engines pulling their freight and going some where I can't go...
Despite it all, we made sure Aidan had a wonderful christmas, and in doing so, that part of it was good.
I have tried and tried to write something to express what I am feeling over the loss of so many people from the tsunami. Words fail me. I am deeply saddened. The images I see on tv...please take a moment to remember all those that were lost, and all those that love them.
Kristy
Tuesday, January 4, 2005 9:06 PM CST
Friday, January 7, 2005
Please visit
www.caringbridge.org/mi/ireland
***I just found out that one of the boys we know from the hospital has just relapsed. Please keep Justin in your thoughts and prayers. Justin has AML and had been cancer free for 7 months. He now needs a bone marrow transplant. They will be looking for an unrelated donor. Please, if you haven't already please regisiter to become a bone marrow donor, or donate blood and platelets.***
On one particular car trip returning from Calgary we stopped at a book store and bought "Oh the places you'll go" by Dr. Suess. I read it over and over to Conor on that car trip home. A trip that was filled with so much of every emotion. It was just after the DLI had failed to bring conor's donor percentage up and we were heading back home to continue chemo and prepare for another transplant. My heart was broken, my spirit was beaten and I remember reading this book and one particular section standing out at me. The waiting place...seemed we were always in that waiting place. Conor found it extremely funny where it mentioned 'waiting for your hair to grow' because, well, he was!
I had meant to post this on here many times and just never got around to it for some reason or another. But tonight, sitting here, feeling like I am waiting, I always feel like I am waiting, the book came to mind. So I copied it out and put it here. We also had the book read at Conor's memorial last february. Although written as a graduation speech to gratuating students by Dr. Suess, the book is so much more that that. It can apply to anyone and at anytime, at any point in your life you can easily pick it up and see a place where you are. Its kind of like that big map in the mall that says "YOU ARE HERE", and shows you all the other places you can go from there.
Oh, The Places You'll Go!
By Dr. Seuss
Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.
You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.
And you may not find any
That you'll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you'll head straight out of town.
It's opener there
in the wide open air.
Out there things can happen,
Don't worry. Don't stop.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.
Oh!
The places you'll go!
You'll be on your way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll join the high fliers
who soar to great heights.
You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.
You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you'll be best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.
Except when you don't.
Because sometime, you won't.
I'm sorry to say so
but sadly, it's true
that Bang-ups
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.
You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.
You'll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a Slump.
And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.
You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly, they're darked.
A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?
And if you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
You can get so confused
that you'll start to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place
The Waiting Place...
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a yes or a no
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake,
or a pot to boil, or a better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants,
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
No!
That's not for you!
Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
Where Boom Bands are playing.
With banners flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're that kind of a guy!
Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. There are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You'll be famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.
Except when they don't.
Because sometimes, they won't.
I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.
All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.
And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.
But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.
On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.
You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know,
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft,
and never mix up your right foot with your left.
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
Kid, you'll move mountains!
So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixy or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!
A year ago today Conor was due to be admitted for his second transplant. Instead he landed in hospital 2 days early due to fever and all our plans began to change. Everyday for the next month will be an anniversary, a day, an event, and reason to remember, a countdown of sorts to the day when I held my child for the last time. Each day relived.
One more month and it will be a year since I last held my son. A year...hardly seems like yesterday, yet seems a million years ago since I could see his face and smell his sweet smell.
At Christmas I bought a set of polar express stocking hangers. The set consisted of an engine, two passenger cars and a caboose. There were slots on the trains for names. I randomly placed a name card in each. Conor, daddy, aidan, mommy. When I looked I found I had placed Conor as the engine, I as the caboose and Darren and aidan in between.
That to me seemed to say so much. Especially the way we have been feeling lately. Just stuck, unable to move just standing still as everything passes us by.
Conor was our engine, he pulled us along, and he kept us going, pulled us up hills, and stopped us from going too fast into those valleys. He held us in place, led us and showed us what direction to go. Now however we are all just sitting on a siding, alone, waiting needing some one to show us where to go. How can we possibly move without an engine to pull us along? I feel like my brakes will be permanently on and I will forever be stuck here on the tracks, watching all the other engines pulling their freight and going some where I can't go...
Despite it all, we made sure Aidan had a wonderful christmas, and in doing so, that part of it was good.
I have tried and tried to write something to express what I am feeling over the loss of so many people from the tsunami. Words fail me. I am deeply saddened. The images I see on tv...please take a moment to remember all those that were lost, and all those that love them.
Kristy
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