There is no question that in the moment Hayes took his last breath, a part of me changed. It felt like a part of me died, and they had forgotten to bury me. To be honest, so much of grief is just surviving. Day to day, hour to hour, Minute to minute and moment to moment. I have a lot of moments left to survive in my life. Read More
Let me preempt this by saying that I know I have issues. I am sure after you read this, you will probably agree with my personal assessment. Since Hayes passed away, I feel like I have become incredibly in touch with my own emotions. I am a bundle of lots of different feelings from one moment to the next. But, for someone that is so aware of my own emotions, I feel like I have become extremely detached from most everyone else’s. I almost feel like I have lost a slight bit of empathy in my life. Odd I know! I am actually embarrassed to admit it.
I remember when Hayes was fighting so hard in his bed at the hospital when the presidential debates were going on. Ugh, politics I know…but bear with me. I remember how scared everyone was. How deeply entrenched people were in the presidential candidates and I was sitting in the cancer unit with my sick baby boy, surrounded by rooms of sick children fighting like hell for their lives. I remember being so jealous of people, where politics was all they had to stress about in life.
Now, fast forward a year later and here we are in childhood cancer awareness month, in the heart of my daily rants about my complete disgust for the monster that is childhood cancer. I miss my baby boy so much, it is gut wrenching. Then Hurricane Harvey hits. I know it is a tragedy. People have lost everything…but really, have they? I was watching an interview with a family that was crying about the loss of their house and all of their possessions. They said this as their 2 year old and 4 year old played on the hotel room floor in front of them. The father bent down and rubbed his daughters head as the mother sobbed. In my skewed grief and I guess bitterness, watching him rub his sweet girls hair, I thought to myself, “You get to ruffle your daughters hair. I would trade you in a second! If I could have all 6 of my children here in my arms, but the trade off was that I didn’t have a house, I would take that deal in point two seconds.”
Now logically, I understand that they have a right to their heart ache and their own feelings of loss. It has got to be so hard and so frightening. But at the end of the day, they have their family. They have each of their healthy children. That is ALL that matters in the end because at the end of this life, you can’t take your house or your possessions with you. Up at the cancer unit of every Childrens hospital is a version of Hurricane Harvey that is killing children every day, but the horror isn’t being seen. It deserves its own state of emergency.
For those that came to my blog for my usual sweet posts, I am sorry to be so angry today. But this is grief, it ebbs and flows with everything I see and experience. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense…maybe I am actually totally crazy. I wouldn’t rule that out. In a strange bizarre way, I feel like this is my way of keeping Hayes alive and remembered. But, regardless, thanks for listening to me on my own little soapbox corner of the internet every day. It probably gets old. I can’t stop. I have walked the path that has shattered my heart. A path that few completely understand. I will forever be scooping up the broken pieces. I will forever be holding my own little telethon and relief efforts, for the hurricane that is childhood cancer. Rant over….oh wait, we all know that isn’t true, I have days and years of rants ahead of me until this disease is stopped.