Loosing a child, I have been told, is one of the worse kind of deaths that one can experience. Of course, I dont say this in a bragging sort of way, like I have entered a club that no one else has, and I am a proud, card holding member of this special club. To be honest, I would trade in my membership any day, if it meant holding my baby again. I think it goes without saying, but is worth saying, all death is equally crappy. None is better than another, none is harder than another. All death takes a life and leaves behind a family, loved ones, and friends to grieve, and lets just face it….grief, no matter how it is sliced, is hard.
To say that loosing a child is the worst, puts loosing another person below, and that isnt at all what I mean to do. Loosing my wife was hard, and still is hard. Loosing my siblings, niece, and watching the kids grieve – hasnt exactly been a walk in the park either. Death, plain and simple, sucks. Atleast for those left behind.
And just so I dont have to keep clearing this up, Im not trying to rank my loss above anyone elses. Anyone who has lost anyone, knows that grieve and death suck. Plain and simple. Lets not try and put one death above another.
Loosing a child is something that is beyond describable. Its something that just shouldnt happen. As a parent, however, you shouldnt have to sit by, helplessly, and watch, knowing that there is absolutely NOTHING that you can do for your child, who is laying there. Dying.
It is the worst feeling in the world.
When I was told that Emmy wouldnt be making it through the night, I told them that she would. To watch, that she would prove them all wrong, and in my mind I believed that. I believed that she would be ok, that she would make it not only through the night, but she would continue to live a normal, healthy, and long life. That she would outlive me…because lets face it, I shouldnt be watching my newly turned 2-year-old, die. It wasnt reasonable, logical, or possible. It just wasnt GOING to happen, and I somehow believed that if I didnt think it was possible – then it wasnt.
Since being gone, I have had time to reflect, think, and remember and while all of that has gotten easier, and I can do all of those things and smile, and remember her without turning my week upside down, there is still one thing, that as of lately, has gotten to me more than anything else.
I will be going about the day, having a good time, when all of a sudden, I will see something. A father with his child. A small person running by, a group of kids with balloons…a small hand inside a larger one…
And a thought will run through my mind, and I will stop and stare, blocking out the rest of the world as I do, and think “I should be doing that” “I should have been showing her this” “I want to give her this” and suddenly, I will be thrust back to that moment in time, in that hospital room with all the smells and noises…
One minute she was here, and life was bearable. I could look at other people and feel happy for them, and think “One day we will do that” and the next she was gone and instead of planning our next trip to the beach, I was being shown the different options for a casket. The small box that would hold her for the rest of my life. The box that would hold her, instead of my arms. The ground that would keep her. The final words that were to be said.
Just this afternoon, at the zoo, I saw a girl running by, pulling behind her a noisy toy. And right behind her was her dad. Smiling proudly at his little noise maker running wildly through the aquarium, and instead of watching the fish, I watched as they walked off together and realized, once again, that I will never be showing her the fish, explaining things to her, hearing her laugh, seeing her personality emerge.
Instead of growing up, she will forever be my 2 year old baby…
…and sometimes thats ok.
…and sometimes its not.