I called Wade and asked him to help me find a way to move forward today. He asked how I remember stuff like this? I answered, It is seared into my soul. I so clearly SEE in my head Ryan sitting at the table enthusiastically eating green beans for the first time ever (his allergist said he could start trying some foods to which hed tested allergic previously because the most recent tests had showed hed grown out of his legume allergy. I was so delighted to see his joy in munching Wades favorite veggie). I remember the relief thinking his allergies might all be behind us now. I clearly see the group of kids playing the next morning across the street: Andy, Carol, Maren, Ryan... (dont remember if Colleen and Katie were there as well), sitting on the porch steps and seeing Ryans pants fill up with diarrhea, watching the horror on his face as it spilled out all over the cement. I remember the kids calling for my help. Us all going into Battle Mode. Wisking Ryan up in my arms and walking him to the bathroom to get tidied up. The kids using a hose to wash the sidewalk. Ryan so sad at what just happened. My heart dropping because I knew it was the beans... I knew he wasnt growing out of food allergies at this point. Wondering how I could calm his immune system down to get back to where he was happy and digesting normally just 24hrs before. Then the horror of the coming 2 months flies through my head. The visions of watching him waste away, his starving in the hospital begging for food, Thanksgiving and his birthday passing with him starving and melting from the inside. The feeling of panic, fear, sorrow, not being able to stop this train . . . all because of 5 damned green beans! Being in the hospital: Ryans doctors all coming to talk to me at once and me asking them if we needed to call in our Priest. Leaning against the sink to steady myself as they told me the severity of Ryans condition. Being relieved that they said it was not yet time to call in Our Priest. The memories run by and by and by again leaving me glued to this room, the room where Ryan slept and lived not just 3 yrs ago. Then another grief hits - out of the four children I remember and see distinctly in my minds eye only ONE, my daughter, is still standing with me. Ryan is dead and the other 2 feel Ive offended them so severely that they are gone from my life. Wow! That is even more cruel than Ryan dying. After all we went through together, all the fun we mined together, all the terror I overcame so they could have a childhood together - they grow up to be big 20 somethings and my heart is stomped on for infractions I do not understand and I am left to grieve alone because, Hey, they dont want to be around a sad person or whatever lame excuse grown up kids make to destroy the heart that protected and helped raise them for years. Death is not the cruelest thing... Being taken for granted, not allowed to be merely human, and treated like the damned apple in The Giving Tree is. I ALWAYS HATED that book. I am not going to be that damned old stump waiting for them to come to their senses and decide to use me as their stool in their isolation. Well, I guess sorrow has turned into bitterness today. Hmmm, I guess Ryan knows I do anger and bitterness better than sorrow anyway.
Posted on: Fri, 01 Nov 2013 15:51:27 +0000
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