Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Everything changed the day Wyatt died.


This is one of the memorial cards that were made for his services.

"You did good." I said to my boy the evening he died.  

He did so, so good.

He fought so hard to stay with us. I would never wish him back to a life of pain, but I miss him so much. Everything I do, everything I say, everything I watch on TV, everywhere I look something reminds me of him. Whether it's something he would have said. Or something we did together so often. Or something that I don't need to do now that he's gone. Or something that I can just predict his reaction to. It's all a reminder. 

Walking over to his large med cabinet and pumping the bottle of hand sanitizer to rub on my hands instantly causes the grief to wash over me. I used to do that so many times a day. Just before pulling out a glass vial of medicine from the med drawer, a sterile syringe from its designated spot, an alcohol pad from its holder and when the med was drawn into the syringe I would walk over to the IV pole towering beside him to start the infusion. It all still sits in the large cabinet that takes up a full wall in our dining room. A week's worth of TPN, bags of saline and a few meds that need to be refrigerated are also still in his refrigerator next to the cabinet. It all now, in some small way, has emotions attached to it.

It was one of the first things that Jilly asked about when she knew Wyatt would be going to Heaven- 'What will happen to all his medicine and his things?' 'What will we put in there now?'

The cabinet itself was made by my Grandfather, so it will stay. But that was all I could tell her. I don't know what we will put in there now. The evening he died there were a lot of questions lingering, many coming from Jilly as her tears and questions were plenty when laying next to her Brother whose body was now still and quiet.

I responded to her questions mostly with- "I don't know, but we'll figure it out."

Everything changed the day Wyatt died.

Just two days after he was gone, a person who worked for the DME company came to our home to take away his special bed and mattress that he's slept in since he was about 5 years old. The bed that had a spot in our living room for the last couple of years. Watching his bed be taken apart and walked out of our home piece by piece was so hard. The memories that bed held flooded my mind when I heard the chugging motor as the position was changed and it was lowered to the floor one last time. I wish I could curl up in it again, surrounded by all his stuffed friends and pretend I was laying beside him, holding him. His sheets, his pillows; they smell sweetly of my son. What I would give to lean over the rail to give him a kiss and feel his squishy cheek against my face.

That same day that his bed left our home the infusion company contracted through hospice sent someone to come pick up his PCA pumps and button. The button that he often clutched tightly and the pump that infused the medicines that gave him relief from pain. 

Four days after, the respiratory company came to pick up their equipment; the ventilators, O2 concentrators, the liquid O2 and companions, O2 tanks and the pulse-ox. Then this evening the infusion company came to pick up 7 different infusion pumps, a carry bag that was intended for his TPN (though we never used) and the big IV pole. These are pieces of equipment that kept Wyatt alive and that we integrated into our lives. We learned, adjusted to and relied on each one of them and they are now gone from our home for good. After the courier left I opened the card she had given to me. I opened it to see written messages from all the staff at the infusion company that we've come to know. And some that I talked with at least once a week, some weeks even three or four times, for years. There are so many people that helped us take care of Wyatt that we've come to form relationships with.

Now what? What do we do now?  

I don't know yet. But I guess we will figure it out. 
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2 comments:

  1. I cant imagine the feeling of grief that comes over your family, especially innocent sisters who are learning about the circle of life. it is just so sad, but Wyatt is finally at peace. Like you said, he did so good fighting. He was positive. Every memory that reminds you of him is such a good thing. Its part of your healing process. Though it may hurt it is just Wyatt's way of showing you he's there. Everything else, you'll figure out. Much love and peace.

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  2. tears are streaming down my face reading this. you are writing beautifully. you don't know me. i made a meal for you guys probably a year ago. my son kaden was on wyatt's little league team years ago. the moms in prayer group i am a part of is praying for you and your family. i am sorry you are having to walk this road...and figure things out without your son. and i will keep praying the Lord will overwhelm you with feelings of comfort and peace as you continue on, figuring out your new normal. much love, melissa king and family.

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