Think Before You Speak!

Think Before You Speak!
 
I just got off the phone...
I haven't spoken to this person in, I don't know, a year or more.  She was at first making small talk.  Wanted to know how I was doing, how was Tina, the new grandkid, etc.  Then out of the blue she says, "So how was it?"
"What do you mean?"  I had no idea what she was talking about.
"Colorado," she says, how was it?"
Still not sure what she meant, I said, "Colorado?"
"The funeral. Or did you go to Jeff's funeral?  It was in Colorado right? How was it?"
"Did I go to Jeff's funeral?"  I repeated...I could feel the hair on my neck stand straight up, and I knew my eyes were getting larger by the second.  (Steve used to say he always knew when I was angry because my eyes were a dead give-a-way.  He said my eyes would get as large as cow eyes.)
"Did you bury Jeff in Colorado?"  Did you go to his funeral?"
"He was my son...seriously?  Do you think I wouldn't go to my son's funeral?  How the hell do you think it went?  It was a funeral for Pete's sake." I retorted, (Believe it or not I did refrain from cursing.)
"Did you get to see the kids, how did the kids take it?"

Oh my God!  The stupidity of some people!  The absurdity of it all!  She didn't even get it.  She just kept talking a mile a minute.

"Well are you getting out much...I know you stayed in the corner a lot when Steve died...I sure hope you aren't doing that now.  You did enough of that with Steve.  Well at least you no longer have to worry about him, etc, etc, and F'n etc!"
I said, "I gotta go," and hung up before she stopped talking.

This is the very reason I decided to Blog in the first place...or rather this is one of the reasons.  The stuff that people say is absolutely so crazy it could be funny.  Really if you read some of this stuff, you gotta admit, a little chuckle here and there...come on.  Even I have to admit some of this stuff is funny.

'If it happened to me I think I would go crazy.'...I think you are already crazy just for saying that!
'Well at lease he isn't in pain anymore.'...and really?  Should I be happy he is no longer in pain because he is laying in the dark cold ground?
'He is in a better place.'...oh really, I guess this is true if you think Morris Hill Cemetery is a better place than with his family.
OMG, I am surprised you haven't killed yourself, I would definitely kill myself.'....so are you asking me why I am still alive?  Would it make you feel better if I do kill myself?
"How did he die?"...seriously, you want to know how he died?  Does it really matter...he is dead!
"He is with God...or...he is in heaven"...and should that make me feel better, because right now I am so damn angry at God...so it really does not make me feel better?
"Really sorry."....oh really?
 "I cannot imagine your pain."...really are you trying to imagine it? 
"You'll survive this because you are a strong woman."...really?  This statement....bites me...right in the ASS!!!
"OMG, you are too good to have this happen to you"...seriously?  I'm too good to have this happen to me? 
"You didn't need this in your life right now"...oh yeah, then you tell me, when would this have been better for me?
"Well at least he got to live as long as he did, I know someone whose son died in their teens"...OMG!! really? 
 "You are special...God will only give you what he knows you can handle.  What the hell kind of a thing is that to say to someone.  If they only knew how much pain Jeff endured every day of his life.  Are they going to tell me that God really thought Jeff was special.    This is absolutely the most idiotic thing I have ever heard.     

My brother Manuel committed suicide at 19 years of age, many years ago. After Manuel died I remember an extended member of my mother’s family came to visit. “The kid was crazy, why else would he kill himself. He was sick in the head!” the man said to my mother as he handed her some money to help with expenses. I was never more proud of my mother than I was that day.

“Take your money,” she said in Spanish. “Where the hell were you when he needed you, you are his God-father and this is what you come to say to me? Your money is not accepted here, nor is your presence.” She then went into an irate string of Spanish words. Really??? These are the words someone would say to a Mother who had just lost her child? Suicide or not! She was in enough pain without having to listen to this incredible idiot! The stupidity of some people is just incredible!

 A friend of mine also lost a child recently.  My heart goes out to her.  I think about her a lot. I asked a mutual friend how she was doing one day...his answer..."Oh Olgie, she is really taking it hard.  She is not strong like you. I don't think she'll ever get over it."  Good damn thing I am so F'n strong.  I cannot tell you how many times I have heard that one.  

I wonder how people would react if  when they ask how I'm doing..."I answer, I am not doing well at all.  I sit in my corner all day long.  I get up to go to work because I have to...or my bills won't get paid, but for the most part I am sitting in my corner."  I wonder what they would think if I said, "I cry myself to sleep most nights.  Many nights I cannot sleep because I still wait for the phone to ring hoping it is Jeff."  I wonder how strong they would think they knew I cry every day while I am driving, I cry at work in front of my computer, I cry at the grocery store.  Would they still think I am strong if they knew I cry all the time.  Would they still think I was strong if he knew I've been in therapy since day one, and am still going weekly.  How strong would they think I was if they knew I haven't been to the gym but twice since Jeff died, or if they knew I haven't even walk more than 50 miles since my son past away..(anyone who knows me, knows I love to walk).  Any ideas?  How strong would they think I was if they knew I have not fully accepted I will never again talk to Jeff.  How strong?  If they knew I walk around my house talking to Jeff aloud, as if he were sitting right here with me...would they still think I am strong..or would they think I am crazy?.  If they knew I got a kitten...for no other reason than to have something physical to hug...to love...and to have love me back.  A living concrete moving little thing...that I can hug, and love.  And that I really wanted to name 'Doob.'  Would they still think I was this strong woman if they knew how very close I have been to driving into that 'truck? How strong do you suppose they would think I was if they knew there are still days where I literally have to drag myself out of bed at the last moment...and then hurriedly dress for work without bathing.  Drag myself out of bed at 6am, even on the weekends...instead of my normal 4:30am.  Me sleeping in for any length of time alone is a dead give-a-way that something is terribly wrong.  These days my house is a pigsty because I cannot drag myself out of the corner.  Wow, how strong am I?  Would they still think I am strong if they knew all this......


The other day I posted a link...please take two minutes out of you day to read this.
http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/01/6-things-never-say-bereaved-parent/

And then there were these statements...

'He is dead...Wow, I wasn't expecting that. Wow'"....At bad as this sounds...at least it was genuine.  It made it clear he didn't know what else to say.  He didn't know what else to say because at a time like this it really is hard to say anything.  
"Now you know"...this came from a parent that had lost a child years ago.  He didn't have to say anything else.  He knew my pain.  He echoed my pain. 
"Man this just sucks!"...a friend of mine said when her husband lost his brother, he loved that someone said this.
"I really loved ____"...how perfect is this to say.
"I am going to miss him"...very nice thing to say.
"He was the nicest guy"...OK, we all know everyone is gonna say this...but it is still a good thing to say.
"If you need anything call me"...it really is nice that you say this however, nobody is gonna call you, a better thing to do is call them in a few day to see if they need anything.  Or better still, call them 6 months down the road, or just stop by their house.

 Don't offer to buy someone dinner, just bring them dinner.  So what if they already ate...they can have something for tomorrow.  Bring them flowers...or a plant they can plant in their garden.  Better still ask them where they want you to plant it.  All people need is someone to show them you care.  Call them..."I want you know I am thinking of you."  "I don't have the words, but want you to know I care."  If you can't face them face-to-face, (believe me, I know this is hard), then send them a card.  Write something in the card.  Share a memory of the person who past with them.  Show them that you are thinking of them.  I remember a few years after Steve past my neighbors came over..."Olgie I don't usually drink hard liquor, but tonight if you will join me, I want to drink a shot and toast Steve."  He was thinking of something manly to do...because Steve was a manly man.  It was good, simple, and from his heart. Keep in mind...this was two/three years after Steve past away.  It made me feel good that someone still had fond memories of Steve, someone besides myself.  Just because the funeral is over doesn't mean no one needs your help or your compassion.  Empathy goes a very long way.   One of our friends said to me after Steve's funeral, "Olgie, I listened to Steve's words.  I heard what he said."  Larry is a commercial pilot, literally lives the'life of Riley.'  Every month since Steve has been gone I receive a post card...a post card from wherever he happens to be.  It could be from here in the States or it could be from wherever he happens to be vacationing.  Larry takes time out of his day...even while on vacation, to purchase a card, write down a few words, ("a few very welcomed words,") and then goes out of his way to put that postcard in the mailbox.  This gesture he makes...I cannot tell  you...how very good it makes me feel.  Just least week I received a card from Larry.  I have kept every single card Larry has sent me. After Steve left this world one of my sister-in-laws called me every Sunday night for several years.     

The worst thing you can do is say I'm here if you need me. If this is true then you would be at their house where they need you.  Actions go a very long way here...I am not talking about myself here...anyone who has lost someone needs your help.  Your sympathy.  Please don't ignore them.  I think I posted on FB about how my family abandoned me after Jeff past away.  Everyone thinks because you live a thousand miles away you don't need them...they think you don't need them because they can see you have many friends...they don't realize this is when you need them most...even if it is by phone.  And hell...in today's world of electronics...come on...it is so very easy to stay in touch. Even a simple message on FB, an email, or any other kind of social medium  is a way to let them know you are thinking of them.  

I know this is coming across as anger...I was angry when I started writing this...due to that stupid phone call but I am not angry now. I am just trying to help you help someone else.  This universe is full of good intentions...it is just too bad...the good intentions never get done.  I too, am guilty of this.  We all live in our own little circle of friends, we rarely waver outside our circle...perhaps this is a good time to think.  Just think. 

I am pouring out my emotions to you for two reasons...to educate you, and me...and to heal.  After that phone call today...pouring out my emotions on this blog, I do feel better.  Please share this blog on your FB page...let the word in on my secrets...help me help those who grieve. 
 

March 11, 2013

Jeff and Olgie - Dec 29, 2012

March 11, 2014
 
I had been busy all morning getting last minute things ready for our week-long meeting for our  School Improvement team.  All morning I kept thinking I need to call the 'Doob,' which was a nickname given Jeff by Tina, his half-sister when he was a toddler.  This name stuck to him like glue his entire life...only a very few people were allowed to call him this.  Steve and I, were the select few but only when he allowed it...although everyone in the family called him by this name whenever we spoke of him. To this very day we still use this name for him. 

That Monday morning while at work, thoughts of Jeff kept creeping into my head...I knew I should have taken the time to call him, but how could I?  I was far too busy getting ready for our meeting.  This is a decision I now struggle with...why?  Why didn't I call my son?  It would have taken no more than one minute...I beat myself up every day for this decision.  Once the boxes were packed up in my Supervisor's car to take to the Event center downtown, (normally it is my car I pack everything in), we were off in separate vehicles to meet at the downtown venue.  Both of us, she went straight to the venue, I decided to take a short detour to the post office to drop off my grandson's birthday card.  I was already late getting it to him and I knew I would be stuck late in meetings all week.  I figured it would only take two or three minutes longer and then I would head straight to the downtown venue.  As soon as I dropped his card off in the mailbox I picked up my phone to dial Jeff...and my phone rang.  It was Jeff on the caller ID.

"Hi Baby," I answered when my phone rang that morning.
"Grandma?" Sebastian said.  It was his card I had just dropped off.
"Hi Sweetheart."
"Oh Grandma this is bad...really really bad.  It's daddy."
"What is going on?  Is he OK?  Is he in the hospital?  Do I need to make a trip down there?”  Sebastian started to cry.
"Talk to me baby."
"Daddy is gone...Grandma, he didn't make it."  I heard nothing else...or perhaps I did because I now have some memories of conversation...still not quite sure.

I heard blood curdling sounds coming from my mouth that filled the cab of my truck.  I could not stop wailing…I could not catch my breath…I could not drive.  I steered my truck into the curb and uncontrollably sobbed, screamed at the top of my lungs, yelled, kicked, hit the steering wheel with my fists.  I could hear Seb crying on the other end of the phone.  I do not know how long I was screaming, “No God, no!”

“Olgie!  Olgie!”  It was Natascha, Jeff’s wife.  She must have taken the phone from Sebastian. We both sobbed on each end of our cell phones. 

I do not know if anything else was said.  I do not know which of us hung up.  All I knew was my baby was gone…It took me two extra minutes to drop off Sebastian's card...why did I not call Jeff?

I do not know how long I sat screaming, wailing, sobbing in the truck that day.  All I know is the immediate pain was both excruciating and completely shattering.  This news was so much more devastating than any mother could or should be able to mentally process at the spur of any moment.  But I somehow had the wherewithal to drive myself home.  How is that possible?  During my route home I called a number of people…or so I am told.  I do not know how I made it home that day...I do not know why I made it home that day.  I have memories of trying to find a great big truck...a very large truck so I could drive my own truck into its path.  There was no truck for me to pull my truck into its path that day.  This thought...of suicide by vehicle...is a thought that has intersected my thoughts many many times since that day.  There have been many moments where I actually looked for a large enough vehicle to crash head-on into.  You see, I drive a large truck, so even in my mental state, I knew if I was to kill myself I needed to find a much larger, heavier truck going just the right speed to make sure it would kill me and not just maim me, and at the same time I knew if the truck was large enough the driver of that vehicle would not be hurt.  I do not know how I made it home that day.  I know things got broken when I got home...I don't know how they broke...I do not recall who was at my house that day...all I knew for sure was... there was no reason for me to live without Jeff.  None!  

I lost my son that day...I lost God that day...I also lost Olgie that same day.

The weeks that followed, included funeral plans both in Colorado Springs where Jeff made his home with his wife and four kids, and in Boise, Idaho.  Idaho was where Jeff grew up.  All I asked of Natascha was to say goodbye to Jeff prior to his cremation.  She agreed to take me to Denver where he was to be cremated.  We made the trip up to Denver from Colorado Springs, myself, Natascha and the kids, Tina and her son, my grandson, Paden.  Paden drove us to Colorado the very day Jeff died.  We arrived in Colorado Springs early the next morning.

As instructed by the mortuary, we waited outside this building.  The old brick building was in what look like an Industrial district.  I was shocked to see it was not a mortuary.  As I waited outside the building I was trying to smell…trying to smell human remains in the air.  It was a crematory…I didn’t want anyone to smell Jeff...burning.  The nicely dressed mortician came to the door and let us in.  I was surprised and relieved to find a well decorated room that looked like a mortuary parlor on the inside.

The mortician took Tina and I into the next room where Jeff laid.  There he laid…on a crash cart that was clearly too small for his chest.  There he laid…on the table, all bundled up with blankets covering his body, only his face exposed.  There he laid…with towels draped across his hairline, covering most of his head.  There he laid…my son…all alone in this room.  Again, I could not stop the cries that came from deep in my throat.  I hugged my son…I laid my head on his enormous chest and sobbed.  I could hear Tina crying in the background.  

There were no beads of sweat…running down his forehead.   There were no sweat-beads…I was so used to seeing him with sweat-beads on his forehead...you know...when the doctor asks you what level 1-10 of pain you are in.  The picture of number 10 pain always has beads of sweat running down the forehead.  For the last five, perhaps 10 years, Jeff was a number 10 on that scale.  On this day…the last day I was to see my son…there were no signs of pain on his face.  No beads of sweat running down his forehead.  My Jeff looked like he was asleep.  His chest which was always as wide as the side of a barn, was still just as wide.  His face which was always attractive was still just as handsome.  My son rested there in peace.  Finally…after all the pain he endured for the last dozen or more years…he did not look like he was in pain!   
  
As I looked at my Jeff I cried uncontrollably...my thoughts... "How can it be?  My son who was a National champion, three, four, five times over in Judo be laying here.  How can it be?  My son who was once at the top of his game athletically, traveled everywhere with his sport, and who was once an Olympic hopeful, have been struck down by umpteen diseases.  Why has this happened?  Where was God in all this?  Why did he not help?  Why were my prayers not answered?"  

My son laid on this table...he was not breathing.  He was covered in blankets.  His head was covered with towels. (I found out recently...the towels on his head...were most likely due to the Coroner's Autopsy.  Jeff was to be cremated...they probably did not even bother to sew him back together.  That was the reason for all the blankets.  That was the reason for his head being wrapped with towels. I guess when someone dies at home, the coroner has to Autopsy them to find out why they died.)  After all the surgeries he had gone through in the last 10 years of his life...they still had the need to open him up even after death!   Idiots!  It angers me when I think of Jeff undergoing that last knife.   There in front of me laid the father of my grandchildren…there laid the man who carried me emotionally after my own husband died…there laid my only biological child…there laid my best friend…there laid the light of my life.  I wanted nothing more than to trade places with him.  Walking out of that room that day...leaving my son on that table...wishing it was me laying there in his place.  I walked out of that room knowing I would never be able to hold him again...I walked out of that room knowing in my heart he would never again call me...I walked out of that room wondering, "What the hell happened?  Why were my prayers not answered?"  What I wouldn’t have given to lay there with him…die with him…I did die with him!  I cannot even begin to describe how broken I came out of that room.  I do not remember much else about this entire week in Colorado Springs.

Upon return to Boise, Tina came to stayed with me.  I realized later she stayed with me because she was on suicide watch.  My family thought I would kill myself…due to the loss of my son.  One day soon after Jeff died, I realized my guns were missing.  I thought they were stolen.  I thought someone had broken into my home and took my guns!  I called Dwaine in a panic telling him of my missing guns!  Tina brought to light they, my guns and my hunting knives, were taken and hidden from me...and Dwaine already knew.  Hidden from me to prevent me from using them to kill myself.  Idiots!  Did they not know how easy it would be to just grab knives from the kitchen...or to just slice my wrists using the many straight edge razors I had lying around the house?  I was asked by several people, "Do you have a plan."  I knew they were talking about suicide.  I gave them nothing!  Idiots!  Did they not know how easy it would be to drive into the oncoming path of a large vehicle?  Unfortunately for me, or perhaps fortunately for me...(the verdict is still out on this one)...there was no big truck for me to drive into.  

I do not have much memory of the first months of Jeff’s passing…but one day in April, I went out to retrieve my mail, just by chance the mail truck pulled up at the same time.  He, the mailman, had a package for me which needed my signature.  I took the pad and signed my name, not knowing who sent the package I was signing for.  He handed me the package and I immediately saw the words 'Human Remains' on the package.  Can you even begin to conceive the horror of emotions that instantly took over?  There in my front yard my son was delivered to me by my mailman!  The emotions that took over were both powerful and instantaneous! 

I made arrangement to bury what was left of my son, in the same plot as his father, who has passed away five years earlier.  It was what Jeff would have wanted...to be buried with his father, not next to his father, but in the same plot as his dad.  The two of them were so very close, it was only fitting they should be reunited forever.  Natascha gave me this gift of Jeff’s ashes to lay with his father.  I will forever love her for this gift.  I called Tina and  Dwaine and no one else.  I told only the two of them when I would bury Jeff.  No one else needed to know.   Dwaine laid Jeff into the tiny hole made by the cemetery workers.  The hole itself was about 18 square inches, and quite deep, but nowhere near as large as a hole for a full size coffin.  I picked up a shovel and started to filled the dirt into the hole.  I knew the cemetery worker was a little in dismay, but nothing was going to stop me.  Tina picked up a shovel and followed suit, and we shoveled until the hole was filled with dirt.  It was I who brought him into this world...I would lay him to rest for all time.  If I live to be 100 years old, I will do nothing harder than I did that day.  I walked away from my son, leaving him in that dark cold damp ground...I laid my son to rest for all time with his beloved father…there are no words to describe the void left in my heart.  There are no words to describe my sorrow. 

Those thoughts of suicide still linger...but they are not as strong as they once were.  Some days I think I might actually make it...so far I have been able to survive without God's help. When I think back at my life, when I think back at all the people I have loved and loss, I have to wonder if God was ever a part of it to begin with.     

Do I Still Have Faith...without my light?

Steve and Jeff 

How does one move forward when there is no light at the end of the tunnel?  My life has been turned upside down...again!  I find myself walking in darkness...alone, cold, and unable to see through the fog in my head.  I am afraid of the woman who will no doubt come out at the end of this nightmare.  With the passing of several people in my life...I found that I have lost much of the person I once was.  How much of what is left of me will be lost with my son's passing?  Jeff was 35 years old.  He died March 11, 2013.  I learned two things when he perished;
1) A person does not have to be physically dead, to be dead.  Your heart does not have to stop beating to be dead, I know...because I too, died on March 11, 2013.
2) The second thing I learned when Jeff died...you don't have to be physically dead for God to send you to hell.  Because the second I learned of Jeff's passing I was thrown directly into the throes of hell.  Believe me...I am still walking above ground, eating, sleeping, I still take in air...and I am most definitely in the pits of hell!

When I decided to write about Jeff's death, I realized it is not just about Jeff's death....it is about everything...everything.  All the loss prior to Jeff passing, the words that come out of people's mouths when they are trying to help you, the different phases of grieving, suicidal thoughts (which do not necessarily mean you are going to kill yourself), anger/doubts in my faith, sitting in a corner, and the list goes on and on and on.  I decided to write primarily to educate...you, my audience.  This is not about poor Olgie...no pity party here...nor do I want any pity in responses.  There are so many things that happen before a person dies, there are so many things that happen after a person dies...so many emotional feelings that get misconstrued by family or friends.  So much anger taking place both before someone dies and after they die.  In the process of writing my thoughts, my memories, I want you to walk in my shoes...if only for a moment...don't judge.  Please don't think..."If it was me I would"...because none of us know what we would do.  We are all different.  Each one of us has a different make up, background, ethnicity, faith, upbringing, etc., which will definitely make us all react differently.  Oh, don't get me wrong...Jeff's death is far more devastating than any I had lost before, including my husband, siblings, my best friend.  When I think back at the pain I endured after losing my husband (Steve), and now the loss of my son...there is no comparison.  There are no words to convey the emotional pain I now suffer.   Do you know how many times I prayed for my son?  Can you just imagine the anguish a mother feels when God did not answer her prayers?  I now question God's intention?  I hope to find my own answers to these questions...perhaps I can heal in these writings.

People have told me countless times, "Olgie, Jeff is in a better place.  He is with God."  Really?  And they know this how?  

I am not questioning why God did this to me...although there was a time when I questioned it.  I now demand answers from God...why Jeff?  Why not take the guy who sells drugs?  Why not take the pervert down the road?  Why not take the husband who beats his spouse, or his children? You know these people...they are in all our neighborhoods.  It doesn't matter your social economic level...these same people are still in your neighborhood.   How many times did I ask for God's help?  Why did he allow Jeff to suffer?  I need answers.  I don't ask for his help anymore.  Why should I?  I can't even remember when I stopped praying...when did I stop praying?   Where is God now?  Where was he before Jeff died....and where is Jeff?  I keep asking this question.  Where are you baby?  Where are you?  I walk around my house asking aloud, "Where are you baby?"  I go to the cemetery and I ask, "Where are you baby?"  Is he in heaven?  Is he is hell?  No he is not in hell...I am in hell!  Is he wondering around as a spirit...watching me, crying with me?  Where is Jeff?

This is how my devastation began....

It was 4:00am Saturday morning March 9th...I laid in bed sobbing.  "Please God, don't take him," I prayed.  I called Tina, my step-daughter sobbing.
The moment she heard my voice she said, "What is wrong?"
"Jeff is going to die."
"Oh my God, Did you talk to him?  What did he say?" She asked.
"Nothing, I just know.  He is going to die.  I'm going to lose my son."  I sobbed
"Olgie, you don't know that.  Did he say anything?"

We talked nearly two hours, me sobbing the entire time.  She trying to console me.  I told her we needed to pray for Jeff...right there on the phone we both prayed for Jeff.  

Later that same day my friend Lana phoned me...again I broke down and started sobbing.  I told Lana about my fears of losing my son.  I couldn't give her a reason why but I knew deep down I would lose him soon.   Lana had been my friend for many years.  She stayed by my side when I lost my best friend Robin, and she stayed by my side when I lost my husband.

The next morning I was with Dwaine, my friend/companion.  My phone rang, it was Jeff.
"Good morning!"
"Hi Mom, what are you doing?"
"I'm here at Dwaine's, he is washing the truck, and then we are going to make bird houses for the yard. It is a beautiful day here...the first warm day of the year."
"Oh good," he said
"You sound good baby, no pain today?"
"Yeah, I feel pretty good."
"Oh good! Where is everyone?"
"The family is out at the property feeding the horses.  I'm glad you are having a good day Mom.  I'm gonna let you go so you can enjoy your day.  I'll call you later.  I love you," he said.
"OK Sweetheart, I love you too"

The second I hung up the phone I busted out in uncontrollable sobs.  Dwaine came to me, "What happened?"
Again through my sobs I told Dwaine of my fears of losing Jeff.   I knew in my heart that very day...Jeff would not live much longer.  I prayed like I had never prayed before.  Please God help him!  Please do not take him from me!

"I love you"...those were the last words my son said to me.  He died the next morning.  Where the hell was God?  Why did he not answer my prayers?  

I console myself with Jeff's texts messages: 'I love you Mom, I just wanted you to know.'  'G'morning I just want you to know I love you.'  'I hope this doesn't wake you.  I was just thinking about you and want you to know I love you.'  This was my son, knowing he was in his last days..he wanted nothing more than to make sure his mother knew he loved her. 

"I die the day you die."  those are the words I told Jeff when he broke the news to me of his Parkinson Disease diagnosis.  When he told me of the diagnosis, his end of the phone went silent.  How many more diseases was he going to be inflicted with.  He had already been diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, Ciliac Disease, Insomnia, Croans Disease, Oxygen depredation due to high pain levels, a degenerate back disorder, which disc fusions did nothing for, kidney failure, seizure disorders, and the list just goes on and on.  I could hear defeat in his voice...Jeff knew his body finally won the struggle within. Did he suffer...oh yes!

"Listen to me,"  I said.  "The day you die, I die...and I plan to live to be 100 years old."
He gave me a little giggle and said, "Oh really?"
"Yep, that's right.  Suck it up baby," and then I added,  "whatever it takes.  So that means you are just going to have to figure out a way to make it to 78 years old.  That way I can make it to be 100."
"Mother, I already feel like I am 78 years old.  If I actually live that long I will be feeling like I'm 230 years old or something!"  He laughed.  But I knew deep down he is was silently crying.  I was on the other end of the phone, also crying silently that day...and countless days before and after.

How much more can one man take?  God had taken every last shred of health from him.  With all the pain Jeff had endured, God had given him one more test.  Even though it was not spoken aloud...we both knew this was one test Jeff would not pass.  It was never said, not by me nor by Jeff, this disease would kill him.  We both knew it.

I now cry in silence every day.  And truth be told...I died with Jeff that day.