I haven’t written in a long time. Not because you haven’t been on my mind. Quite the opposite really.
It’s been nonstop.
So many things you’re missing. I just had my graduation and I hate that you weren’t there.
Carter said it too. There was an empty seat next to him. He said that it made him think about how you should be in that seat.
You and your brother have been my motivation for finishing this program. I truly was shocked to find out that you were telling everyone that I was back in school. As a parent of an adult child, I guess you just don’t think about your kids being proud of you. You don’t think about them bragging to everyone about you. I didn’t know until you were gone. Maybe you were as proud of me as I was of you?
I could have taken a semester off after losing you. No one would have blamed me. But my mind was picturing you saying “Why the fuck would you do that?”
So instead, you have been my motivation. You and Carter both. Better myself so I can be better for the both of you. Give you better than I had. That is all I have ever wanted for you two.
I am sorry that I couldn’t protect you.
As a kid.
And that night.
It’s all I ever wanted.
It was my job and I failed.
But I promise that I will do everything I can to protect your baby brother. He misses you so much.
We both do.
I have a few weeks left until I am officially done with school.
As time passes, I keep thinking of the parts of his life that he’s missing. The parts that were all missing.
I’m thinking of the grandbabies I won’t get to have. The shared grandparent experience I won’t get to have with his dad and step mom. Carter is almost 14 and maybe he will want kids someday when he grows up. Maybe he won’t. And I’ll still have my honorary granddaughter and any other honorary grandbabies from all of my chosen kids.
But I won’t have his. And he won’t get that experience. He wanted to get married. And he wanted to be a dad. Cute little Bryce babies with those dark, long lashes and big dimples. I’d have spoiled the fuck out of those babies too. Just like I do with my honorary granddaughter, C. I can’t help it. She’s so damn cute. And honestly, she kinda looks a little like Bryce. Her mom is his older half sister so she has enough of the features from that side of the features that are similar to the ones that he got from his dad that they actually look a little alike from when he was little.
We’re getting closer and closer to 2 years and I just don’t even want to think about it. I don’t want to think about how it’s been so long since I’ve seen him smile. Heard his silly laugh. Given him a big hug. I still have our text thread in my phone and it’s still pinned to the top where it was before. I can’t move it. I don’t want to move it. I don’t want to delete it.
I want my baby back. I want to celebrate his adult milestones with him just as I celebrated every one of his childhood ones.
It has been a while since I have written anything here. Over a month actually. Not necessarily because I am doing any better…but maybe more because I am doing better at carrying the pain? Or hiding it? Or both?
I used to trust my gut. I would just be able to tell if something felt right. Or if it felt wrong. That doesn’t mean that I always listened to it, especially in my younger years, but it was still there. But that one night in December 2022, I had no warning. I saw him that morning as I went to work and nothing felt off. I texted with him on and off through the day about various things. He was excited about a free ham that he was getting from work…because it was a HoneyBaked Ham and that boy could EAT. He probably could have eaten the entire fucking ham on his own if I am being honest. He was excited about the nice quality Suntec branded long sleeved shirt that they were giving them with the ham. Because free clothes. Awesome. He asked if I needed him to take Carter to his lesson because he would occasionally help take him when I was working. I said no because they were already out for Christmas break. It was only 2 days before Christmas. He said okay cool and that he was going to go hang with the boys and go for a ride for a while and then meet Rory back at our house later that night. As always, our conversation ended the same as it did every single time we ended a conversation when he was going to be going somewhere.
Be safe. Love you.
Love you too.
Those were our last words.
And my gut had no idea. Not one. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t ignoring a red flag. I wasn’t ignoring a gut feeling. I simply didn’t feel it. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
So how can I trust my gut now? After all of these years of trusting it, how can I now trust it when it not only failed me this time but it failed my baby? I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t warn him. It didn’t give me that gut feeling that something was wrong so I could stop him. It didn’t just hurt me. It hurt him. His other parents. His 8 siblings. His 2 best friends from the different periods of his life. His love. His massive groups of friends from both Tucson and here in Phoenix. Extended family on both sides. His niece. His future. The future for all of us. My gut has always helped me but this time it failed all of us. So how can I ever trust it again?
Even small shit like school is harder now. Some topics are harder to study. The unit in pathophysiology that related to traumatic brain injuries left me crying multiple times. Taking care of patients around his age is hard.
I am now in the final year of my program. This clinical rotation is in the ICU with an amazing physician. Today, we had to tell a mother that her daughter would likely not recover from her condition. Instead of showing any signs of clinical improvement, she has steadily decompensated and has gotten worse and worse. If she has any improvement, it would leave her highly debilitated and would likely take at least a year to reach that point, if ever. She can not move. Can not breathe on her own. Can not talk. Her body has shut down. As my preceptor and the neurologist were explaining the situation to her mother and 2 aunts, I was doing okay. Eventually I noticed that I was holding my necklace with Bryce’s ashes and was stroking his fingerprint engraving. Just feeling the ridges to stay calm. As the conversation progressed and her mother began to cry, I was struggling. By the time we were finished and they went back into the room after deciding to withdraw care, I separated from the physicians and walked quickly to the restroom. I barely made it before breaking down and just stayed in there and let it go.
Yes, this was drastically different. She had almost 30 years on Bryce. She was critically ill. But I was looking at a mother crying for her baby girl. Looking at a mother thinking about how she was going to have to plan a funeral. Think of final preparations. Think of how she can possibly live in a world without her child. Mothers aren’t supposed to outlive their children. It isn’t natural. I just wanted to hug her and tell her that I felt her pain.
I only wish that I’d have been able to say goodbye to my baby and be with him as he took his last breath so he didn’t have to be alone.
I am just grateful that my last words to him were that I loved him.
Grief is a B!tch 