Tribute to Pierre by Mary Joy Jitzu Morris What does one say about such a short life snuffed away so quickly? If I think back on this day a full year ago now, my urge is to retell the memories of that day, the things that broke my heart repeatedly for days and days, the things that built up a wall of doubt and anger and self-loathing. But Pierres life was in direct opposition to all of those things, and I will not even give them homage. So, today I will tell you a memory of that day, and I will spend all day being thankful for the people and things that helped my family choose joy in the days that followed. I woke up at 3:58 a year ago today. My alarm was set for 4:00 and I woke up 2 minutes early. I believe it was God who woke me up. I know that if my alarm had gone off and I was not awake, I would have hit snooze or turned it off and gone back to sleep. And I cannot bring myself to imagine the horror of the day if my Lyddie or Phoebe had been the one to try and awaken him for breakfast, as was usually done. So, for this I will always be thankful. I carried Pierre out to the living room and called 911. And as I pumped my little boys chest, I felt my heart relax in peace. I knew he had left, and I kept going. A million years later, there was a banging at my front door, and in burst my neighbor and first responder, Nathan. He came in and immediately took over for me. Then I took Pierres hand, I rubbed his head, while his little ribs were breaking and his body heaved with every thrust. And then I prayed. I prayed out loud for God to give us strength, and to give Pierre strength to make it, if that was His will. And I prayed for Nathan, although at the time I couldnt remember his name and Nathan said, Im Nathan. Your kids play basketball with mine. I prayed that God would give Nathan the strength to keep going, and to know later that he had given the hardest part of himself to save my little boy. Nathan might tell you different now, I dont know, and its ok if he does, but a day later he told me that it meant so much to him that I was kneeling there, in between giving breaths to Pierre as needed, and praying for him to know in the following days that he tried his hardest. And that is the very essence of my son. That is what God gave me my son to show me. That in the middle of the world crashing to bits around you, there can still be peace. That when you are in a body that cant speak, that cant walk, that is restricted by cerebral palsy, and adrenal insufficiency, and panhypopituitarism, and agenesis of the corpus colossum, and diabetes insipidus, you can still have so much joy that it spills out of every pore. That your eyes can remain lit while your embers start burning out. That is my son. My hero in a tiny body.
Posted on: Sun, 19 Oct 2014 11:44:37 +0000
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