Dear William,
I passed the funeral home today while I was out running errands. I always have the strongest urge to go in there and just sit. Maybe because it was the last place that I saw your physical body.
I made arrangements with the funeral director to have alone time with you prior the family visitation. I was able to sit there with you for two hours and talk and listen. The remarkable experience of having a two way conversation with on a telepathic level is something I want to teach others. The ability to do that isn’t limited to having special abilities, it’s a matter of tuning into subtle energies and trusting that the communication is real; If I hadn’t had that opportunity, there’s no way I would’ve been able to give your eulogy. When I stood up to walk to the podium, it was like an out of body experience. Some unseen force moved my body up there against my will. Everything inside me was sending signals to my body to collapse on the floor. I don’t remember a single thing that I said. There were so many people attending that there weren’t enough places for people to sit, the lobby and the hallway were packed with people looking through the glass doors. I had been sitting facing forward, when I turned around and took in the crowd, I wasn’t surprised. You made an everlasting impact on everyone you met.
A TV was set up to livestream the service so the people could watch from the lobby. I’m grateful for that because I was able to go back and watch it later. I don’t know who that woman was standing up there speaking. She looked like me, but I think it must have been my dad speaking through me.
I’m grateful for hospice. Having all of those things in place gave us the peaceful environment to allow you to be at home until your spirit outgrew your physical container. It also provided the option to keep you at the house until we were “ready” for the funeral home to send someone to come pick you up.
I invited all of our friends and family who were able to come say goodbye to you into our home. The house was full! There was a steady stream of people who loved you that came to pay their last respects. I got word from the living room that you’re best buddy was there. I told his parents I didn’t think that it would be a very good idea for him to see you, but they insisted. When they walked into the bedroom where you were, he said, “ I don’t think I can do it.” ; his dad said, “Take his hand and speak to him from your heart.” He claimed the courage to take your hand and to tell you that he would be your best friend for the rest of his life. That moment will forever be etched in my heart.
I wanted to keep you there all night, but I knew as time passed, the decomposition process would have progressed to a level that would have become traumatic for us to see. I waited until my dearest friend got off work so that she could come and say goodbye to you. Being the nurse she is she checked your body out and I’m glad that she did because when I had fears that perhaps you weren’t actually dead when they took you, that maybe you froze to death in the freezer because you were still alive and we just couldn’t tell, she was able to ease my mind that the distinct markings were indicative of postmortem.
Certain moments play over my in my head on repeat like an endless loop. It’s torture. At any given moment, I can be having a conversation with someone yet at the sale time, I’m seeing the moment I turned on the light only to realize what was happing.
I woke up to the sound of you snoring.
I put my hand on your chest to give you nudge and get you to roll over. You were soaking wet. I turned on the light and saw that your face was blue. You looked like you had drowned in a swimming pool. My first instinct was to start chest compressions and I was saying out loud, “NO, NO, NO, and then I stopped. I realized that your suffering had ceased. Peace washed over me. I said, “That’s enough.” I pulled you into my lap and told you how much I loved you. I promised to take care of everyone.
I started making phone calls. Our hospice nurse was first, she told me that she was on her way. I called John and asked him if he would please come unlock the door for them. My sisters told me they would be on their way as soon as possible. Your Aunt had just flown home the day before.
I text Sissy and Bud to please come into my bedroom if they were awake. They immediately walked in even though it wasn’t quite 5 AM. They both knew you were gone. Your brother was quiet, twisting his beloved stuffed animal in his hands. Sissy fell to the floor. The moment we’d been anticipating and dreading for 17 years, not believing it would ever actually happen, happened. I waited a few hours before I called your dad so that we could have some time alone with you to sit in stillness and quiet. But also, I didn’t want to tell anyone because saying it out loud, meant it was true.
The house was full of people by the time the sun came up. So many people loved you. I don’t think you realized how much you were loved. You stated as much to me on a few occasions. I know that your spirit was still there and able to see it. Able to feel it.
I can still feel you everywhere, but I ache for you. There is an ever present feeling of “something is missing” inside of me. The best way to describe it is that moment of walking out the door and thinking what am I missing? Then I realize it’s you. I remind myself that you’re in my heart, with me always.
I love you forever.
Love Mama
Dear William 