Letting Go, Again

October 11, 2006, today Dr. N came to Devin's room at Hershey to make sure we were ok and to go over the next, and final step of this horrific nightmare we found ourselves in. He wanted to make sure we undoubtedly understood that we were at the end of the cancer treatment line. that, chemo was no longer working, and although radiation was very slowly shrinking the targeted cancer spot, there was another mass rapidly growing behind the original mass area, and, it was also in his marrow and blood and bones. he wanted to see us take our Devin home, to live what miniscule life he had left in his own comfort zone, surrounded by his family, and, he was prepared to get us set up to do that, and keep him as comfortable as possible. Dr. N also wanted us to understand the choice we had to make of refusing any resuscitation in the hospital if Devin should code while we were still there. with tear filled eyes he assured us that should it be his child, he wouldn't want that, that if they would resuscitate, it would be only for our benefit of hanging on a bit longer, prolonging the letting go that was inevitable. that decision, is one no parent should ever have to face, there's guilt if you hang on and ask him to fight when he's already given his all in a tremendous heroic effort, there's guilt if you let go, cause, what if, there was something else we could have done, what if, we gave up to soon, what if, he feels like we abandoned him, what if........
October 11, 2016 here we are 10 years later...... the last few weeks have been rather brutal, to say the least. there are things in losing a child that you have fought a nasty battle beside, that are forever etched in your mind!! decisions, such as the one above, that go round and round in your head, words, phrases, terms you can never unhear, faces of pain, acceptance, numbness, unbelief, fear and body changes in your child you can never unsee!! and, just because it's been 10 years, doesn't mean the why's and wonderings and the pain and torment of it all has vanished, some days I think it intensifies as life goes by and time goes on and the longing to just be in heaven with him gets ever stronger. there's so much heaviness in me over this particular month, and two of my dearest friends have both had to let their precious boys go this month also, to the same ugly cancer monster.
October 12 ,2006 today is our 10th anniversary, a date I always dreamed would be spent somewhere warm and tropical, lazing on a sandy beach, listening to seagulls and ocean waves , smelling fresh salt breezes and coconut sunscreen as we hold hands and gaze in each others eyes, pledging again to stand by each other through whatever life threw our way for the next 10 years, or a lifetime! today, we wake up groggy from a sleep deprived stupor, aching from taking shifts of curling our bodies around our precious Devin and snuggling him close in a crunchy, crackly, hospital bed made ideally for one, then switching out to trade places on a unforgivenly hard thin mattressed, slightly wider than ones body, cold window seat, directly under the central air units, to lay almost fetal like with arms wrapped around our own bodies as though to shield ourselves from the reality of impending doom, tears constantly on flow voluntarily down our numb faces, mostly unnoticed, and unaware they're even there, we lay there staring into the darkness, the only light is the eerie green yellow glow of the monitors, the only sound is an ominous hiss of airflow, pressure cuff, and the wheezing breaths of soon to be gone, beloved son, neither of us dares utter a word, just in case that other partner caught a rare few moments of blissful slumber, or maybe because it was just to exhausting to summon the energy to try and form words that in the end, weren't even there, so we lay alone in a tiny crowded sterile cancer room, tense, cold and waging war with our own minds, getting up at random times to stare into the face of our child and going over every detail of his precious face, reaching out to kiss a fluid filled cheek, hold his warm chubby hand, caress his bald head, desperately trying to etch every detail in our heart to hang onto for those long days of no longer having him here to look at, barely managing to keep ourself from crawling inside our own mind and giving into the insanity loitering at the outskirts, waiting to devour us alive. morning finally arrives and instead of wrapping ourselves up in each other and celebrating our continued love and mile marker of 10 years, we're being wrapped in hugs, and kind words and tears and reverent solemn goodbyes. the halls were lined with Devin's docs , nurses, aids, therapists, social workers, child life specialists, etc. and other patient families, as we, with heavy steps, began our last trek home from 7th floor west. it was a surreal bittersweet feeling, ecstatic we were able to take him home, suffocating, in that it really was the end of the end, so final, so very, very cold. it's a tug of war mental game to feel celebratory of the day you pledged your heart to your true love, and trying to grasp, instead of the letting go, the celebration of 5 precious gifted years with Devin, and the celebration of now he gets to be pain free, and in the arms of Jesus!
October 12, 2016, today, is our 20th anniversary and all I can do is relive 10 years ago when we brought Devin home for the last time from anywhere in this life, and we got to love on him and hold him and bask in his presence for one whole day.  I volley between feeling overwhelming sadness and despondent, to peacefully elated that we had a bit of time with him, and thankful that we had warning that he was fading and had a bit of a chance to prepare ourselves, and yet can any parent truly prepare themselves for heartbreak?! I hardly know what to feel on this day anymore, I'm torn between wanting to be delighted in that we've made it 20 years together through a whole lot of hellish rides, to feeling mournful at what was, and is no longer here.
October 13, 2006 another practically sleepless night, not for lack of a comfortable bed, or interruptions, but for the fact that we were running on adrenalin and fueled by a desperation to not miss one single minute of Devin's life, sleeping, or awake, alert or not alert, time we had left with him. the day started out with him up and moving a little, and giving hugs and precious I love yous, but as the day wore on the energy faded, the movement stopped, the eyelids closed oftener, the fluid increased, the pain incomprehendable, the breathing more labored, the communication non existent. we were blessed with being surrounded by flowers, food, family and friends. we stayed by his side every minute, prepared to do just that, even if it meant many days over, but.....by 11.20 pm. it was over.........he ran to Jesus with daddy and mommy by his side, with pappy and meemaw and aunt Angie and Uncle Aaron with us. we all breathed a shaky, teary sigh of relief that the waiting game was over, that he was no longer suffering, but, on the heels of that, the brutal reality that it really is over, and we're never going to be the same, and somehow we're going to have to get through yet another horrendous ride. praise God the hospice nurse was there also, and we all stepped back and quietly left her to do what needed done in cleaning and changing him and notifying the funeral home, which, to our surprise, came right out that night yet to take him on yet another gurney ride to yet another cold, sterile facility. what an out of body sensation, to see a hearse in the eeriness of night pull up to your house, then drive away with your son. my dear friend Miriam, who had been there earlier in the eve, and had stuck by us through the whole cancer nightmare, arrived then just to hug us and make sure we were alright.
when ones loved one dies, one doesn't get to crawl in a hibernation spot of choice and let the world go on , no, there a bazillion choices that need a semi clear answer too, like the color of casket, and burial clothes, and the design of memorial cards and words and fonts and colors and a picture of him or not a picture of him, and the times of services and the service location and those officiating and the order of service and the reading choice and the songs, and the choice of pallbearers and NO, THERE WILL NOT BE A LAST VIEWING IN FRONT OF THE FUNERAL CONGREGATION and does the mama really have to wear black? I mean, I'd rather wear happy, joyful, celebratory, he's pain free, and in heaven after all, and black is soooo..... black!! the decisions were seemingly endless and so  terribly overwhelming to a sleepless, overloaded, yet very empty parent brain. exhaustion suffocated, and uncontrollable crying jags accosted us, yet, as the house emptied and we would try and retire we were met with nothing more than tossing turning and more tears. my family, bless their hearts, picked up quickly the reality of the situation and arrived the next day with sleeping pills.
October 12, 2016 letting go of a child is not an event a parent soul ever gets over!! that week I remember clearly thinking, how, under the sun am I going to make it through the next month, let alone the next year, and yet, here it is, 10 years out! don't ever, people, tell someone they need to get over a death and move on..... there is no getting over, that child was  a product of our love and union, grown and birthed in us, they heard the beating of our mama heart from the inside, we loved, shielded, nurtured and protected that precious human being from their first breath until their last, however long or short it was, that is not something any mama/daddy gets over. we learn to deal, to cope, to move forward in spite of. we continue on with a chunk of heart missing and rearranged as carefully as it can be, we grab hold of our mates and reach out in our faith and cling to our families and friends and support groups, but we still remember, we still miss and love and cry and long for what was, for wholeness.
through all the fiercely heart squeezing, muddied mix of emotions and run away feelings each year, one thing I'm always, always, grateful for, is the being made aware ahead of time, and as feeble as it was, the opportunity, the gift we were given, to try and get some semblance of mind preparation, that this was the end of the end, that we were gifted with time to let go and say our I love yous and steal  hugs and kisses and precious moments. August 2005, when we were numbly being escorted from clinic across the bridge to the hospital for Devin to be admitted upon the earth shattering news of , I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Diem, your son has cancer, I was being chauffeured by nurse Joanne in a wheelchair with Devin curled up on my lap, flanked by daddy and my sister Ang and my mom and we stepped into the hospital second floor to be greeted by a very solemn/ shocked faced, group of acquaintances from our youth days. talking to them we found out the one young married guys wife was in a horrific car crash, she was alive, but not living, and the dear man had a choice to make, so heart wrenching, he let go awhile later, no time for another I love you no warning to prepare. October, 2006, we're in radiation waiting room, the hospital is filled on all levels with numb faced, shell shocked amish, the cruel ugly world has reached their peaceful nonresistant world, rocking them to the core with it's ugliness and horror. they can't unsee the terror that surprised them in that school room, they can't fix their broken girls, their haunted kids, they can't bring back those they had to let go of to soon, they just fold their arms over themselves and remain stonefaced, trying to somehow move forward, trying to be where they are needed yet constantly trying to avoid the press and wanting to sit and wait but every room they want to wait in has a tv blaring the tragic news, running before their eyes, yet again the injustice and unthinkable tragedy dealt them. my heart ached beyond words for these starched, dark clad, solemn souls, yet I had no emotion or energy or words left in me to give, I was holding in my lap a precious child of my own, fighting our own victoryless war, but I was given a chance to say goodbye, I was warned that our time was coming to termination, they woke up to sunshine and fall leaves only to be met head on with hurricanes and naked twisted storm tossed devestaion. October 13,2006 , the day we let go of our precious Devin, a former church family of ours was reeling in shock as their father and husband left this world suddenly from a heart attack. 2 goodbyes in one day, both so vastly different, they were sucker punched with the devastation their day ended with, we were feeling torn between celebratory elation, that Devin now had eternal quality of life and homefree and immense sadness that our family would never be complete again this side of heaven.
its October 12, 2016 10 years later, I still battle immense feelings of sadness and at times the guilt and wonderings of what ifs surface, and i'll be honest, I know I have innumerable blessings staring me in the face, but somedays it's easier to give in and just embrace being a "grumpdog" (word of my niece, so appropriate at times) even though I know it won't make things any better and that more often than not I end up with a headache. I know this is another one of those seasons, we'll get through it, because another gift we've been privileged to receive is the gift of faith, I don't know how anyone gets through the letting go without faith, faith that God knows the plans He has for us, and faith that one day He will wipe away every tear, and without hope, hope of being reunited in Heaven for all eternity, and without friends and family, those darling souls that come alongside and carry and hold and encourage and lift up and sing the notes when you can't and offer you shoulders and tissues and love and meals and the necessary at times, reprimand to toss off the "grumpdog" and take stock of your blessings and gifts.
getting over the letting go of a child isn't something you ever do, letting go of and getting over the anger and injustice is a must to heal, although it's a process that may require a lifetime as it's not as easy done as said, and will pop up unexpectedly at the randomest times, that's ok, the key is to keep releasing it back to the Father and yet again choosing to look for the stars on the darkest of nights, searching for the rainbows on the cloudiest of days, listening for the music in noisy mahem of life, counting your blessings in the bleakest of circumstances, clinging to Father always even when it feels like the rooms empty, He never leaves, He's always, always by ourside.