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STEVEN SPITTLE 10/24/95 - 8/29/03 
Welcome to Steven's page. It has been made as a memorial to our sweet little boy. Steven was diagnosed with T-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL) on September 16, 2002 and became an Angel in Heaven on August 29, 2003 Steven started his treatment at University Hospital in Syracuse, New York. He relapsed in January of 2003, and after he was put back into remission we were sent to Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York City. He received treatment at Sloan Kettering – but unfortunately relapsed again on July 3, 2003. He was inpatient at Sloan from July 7th until he earned his Angel Wings on August 29.
Steven touched so many lives in the seven years he was with us. To know Steven was to love him.
~~Most people only dream of Angels - We held one in our arms for 7 wonderful years.~~
What do we wish others understood about the loss of our child? Here is a partial list of such wishes:
- I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child’s name. My child lived and was very important and I need to hear his name.
- I wish you wouldn’t feel awkward if I mention his name.
- If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you hurt me: the fact that my child died has caused
my tears. You have allowed me to cry and I thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.
- I wish you wouldn’t “kill” my child again by removing from your home his picture, artwork, or other remembrances.
- I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn’t think that if I have a good day my grief is all over, or if I
have a bad day I need psychiatric counseling.
- I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately. It is the ultimate tragedy and I
wish you wouldn’t compare it to the loss of a parent, spouse or pet.
- Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me.
- I wish you knew that all the “crazy” grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, frustration,
hopelessness, the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child.
- I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for us.
- As with alcoholics, I will never be “cured” or a “former bereaved parent,” but will forever be a “recovering bereaved parent.”
- I wish you understood the physical reaction to grief. I may gain or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, lose my short-term memory,
develop a host of illness and be accident prone, all of which may be related to my grief. - Our child’s birthday, the anniversary of his death, and the holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you could tell us that you are
thinking about our children these days and if we get quiet and withdrawn, just know that we are thinking about our child and don’t try to coerce us into being cheerful.
- It is normal and good that most of us re-examine our faith, values and beliefs after losing a child. We will question things we have been
taught all our lives and hopefully come to some new understanding with God. I wish you would let me tangle with my religion without making me feel guilty.
- I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.
If you keep waiting for me to get “back to my old self” you will stay frustrated. I am a new creature, with new thoughts, dreams, aspirations, values and beliefs. Please try to get to know the “new me” — maybe you will like me still.
Journal
Tuesday, August 29, 2006 7:55 AM CDT
God saw that you were getting tired,
A cure was not to be.
So he put His arms around you
And whispered, "Come home with me."
With tearful eyes, we watched you suffer
And saw you fade away.
Although we loved you dearly,
We could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating:
A determined spirit is at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best
STEVEN I MISS YOU SO MUCH. I DON’T KNOW HOW IT CAN POSSIBLY BE THREE YEARS SINCE I LAST HELD YOU, TOUCHED YOU, KISSED YOU. SOMEHOW, LIFE KEEPS ON HAPPENING, AND I FEEL LIKE I’M JUST BEING DRAGGED ALONG WITH IT. I CANNOT WAIT TO BE REUNITED WITH YOU. I LOVE YOU NOW AND FOREVER
MOMMY
Read past journal entries
Hospital Information: Patient Room: HEAVEN
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25 Trafford Road Binghamton, NY 13901
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