Dear William,
This picture is from the day you were discharged from ICU at Wolfson’s. We went in for a routine heart cath so that Dr. E could measure the pressures in your heart to determine if we were getting close to your next surgery. You went into cardiac arrest twice as soon as they administered anesthesia. Instead of going home in 4 hours with a bandaid and an M&M cookie, the size of your head like I promised, you came out on full life support. Dr E did chest compressions for 2 minutes before your heart started again. You coded again when they tried to intubate you. The next time I saw you that day you were hooked up to all the machines. Your head was covered in electrodes to measure brain activity. They feared that since you went without oxygen for such a long period of time that you would have extensive damage, if brain function returned at all.
The very next day Lola died. I have had so many “worst day of my life” moments and I thnk that week is still at the top of the list. after 10 days in the ICU we got the ALL CLEAR everything is fine, he is completely normal and ready to go home. When we got in the car your said, “Can we go to the beach?” We drove straight there without stopping. The beach and the ocean were always your happy place.
On days when I miss you all the way into my bones, the only remedy is to get in the ocean. Nor’easters are the best. I love to get in when the ocean is raging. The only thing I can see is a wall of white water coming at me. I lean back, l look up at the sky and go limp letting the waves take me as they wash away my tears. The ocean is the best place to cry. The whole salty thing could be made up of tears from me… from other mothers who have lost their children or from anyone who goes there to grieve.
I used to be terrified of the ocean. Losing a child was at the top of my fears list. It’s as if you took my fears with you. If the worst one came true then wat is there possibly left to be afraid of?
My favorite thing about being in the ocean is how calm the water is under the turbulent surface. It’s soothing and a reminder that no matter how disasterous conditions ca be, there is an access point to inner peace. For me that point is to walk into the seemingly fierce, and surrender. That is where I find I am being held by the divine. Cradled and soothed. After the tears stop, I walk out backwards leaving with gratitude for feeling your presence, for the love and healing of nature.
Since we’ve moved from the last house where you lived, I have struggled with there not being any memories of you in the new place. That’s not true for the beach. If there was anywhere with memories, of you, that would be the place.
I love you forever!
Mama
Dear William 