On September 4th, it was my son Reese's 31st birthday. Reese lived for 92 days and died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I was blessed to be his father. Losing a son is no easy thing. You hear people say that "no parent should ever have to bury their child." I agree. Especially when it is your first child and they are only three months old. At age 33, I asked myself at the time, "How I am supposed to deal with this?" Truth be told, I didn't know.
Now that it has been almost 31 years, I can look back at it and evaluate how I have dealt with it over the years. When it happened, I suddenly had to wear a theoretical 50 pound vest around me. I am speaking metaphorically of course. In addition, to that, I had to try and be there for my wife. The first thing we noticed was that we each grieved differently. We both realized very quickly that we had to be supportive of each other when it counted. Too many grieving couples develop silos of grief and fail to communicate with each other. This causes one spouse to think the other does not care. Of course, this is patently untrue. It is simple a break down in communication. However, a breakdown in communication during a period of grief will lead to divorce in a lot of cases. Luckily, that did not happen in our marriage.
For several years, we volunteered at a Compassionate Friends group which became a Bereaved Parents group later on. One of the things that immediately slapped me in the face was that there were always people worse off than you. One lady had lost three of her children in a fire. Another son who filled in one night for his friend at a convenience store was murdered on that freak one night. He was working on his master's degree and was going places in life. There were so many heartbreaking stories among these people, but it was comforting to meet other people who have also lost a child. It was a safe place for a time. However, it is not a place to stay for years upon years. You will know when it is time to move on. Your instincts will tell you.
My wife and I discussed what to do next. We still wanted to have a family. Our plan was to have two or three children about two years apart. When we were ready, we got back up on that horse that had knocked us down and had our second son Marshall. Once he was born, it was not easy. We were on pins and needles that we might lose another child to SIDS. He was hooked up to a breathing monitor and I'll be darn if he didn't set that thing off 28 times in the first 30 days. You talk about a guy running a hundred yard dash to his bedroom. I did that a lot.
Of course, the risk for SIDS is really about the first six months. We did not know anything about SIDS back then, nor did we even know anyone who had a child who died of SIDS. For myself, I went to the local medical school library and read everything that I could find on it. There are influencing factors that I discovered. Premature birth, male, born in winter months, having a cold prior to death and sleeping on their stomach. Reese was born about 4 - 5 weeks early. He was not really what you would call a premature baby, but when he was born, he was held in the neo-natal unit the whole time at the hospital. When the doctor finally showed up 4 or 5 days later, he said "take him home and treat him like a normal baby." I was like, wait a freaking minute. He was in neo-natal ICU for 4 or 5 days and now, everything is fine? The doctor said "Yes. Treat him like a normal baby." Notice how I remember that 31 years later? Of course, I do not have a very high opinion of that doctor. I know. I know. It wasn't his fault that my son died, but damn it! Get your head out of your rear end. You are a "baby doctor" who is supposed to be knowledgeable about things like, oh I don't know, perhaps Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Reese had all those signs that I discovered in the medical school library mentioned above.
Sorry, I digressed.
My first real experience with grief was when I was a senior in high school and I learned that my father had died. I never knew my father. Although, he had plans to have a relationship with me, because he had moved back to Arkansas from California to become the Chief of Police in Camden. My sister Tami had told me that they moved to Arkansas so he could have a relationship with me when I turned eighteen. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be.
Dealing with the grief of losing my father has been a lifelong struggle. My mother has been absolutely no help. No parent should ever disparage the other parent to their child, especially when they are deceased. After all, they are not a threat any more if they are dead.
My wife and I had three miscarriages in a row after Marshall was born. These were no fun. We decided to keep trying. We saw that movie "Rudy" and decided that our baby would be named Rudy if it was a boy and Rudi if it was a girl. We were blessed with a girl and both our son Marshall and daughter Rudi are doing well.
I've lost two brothers and a sister, too. My brother David was killed in a automobile accident at age 32. My sister Tami died at age 53 of health complications from Lupus and doctor approved morphine. More recently, my brother Jon died last year of a heart attack. I begged him to quit smoking, especially since our father died at age 39 of a heart attack and he was a heavy smoker. After Jon had his second heart attack, he had bypass surgery and quit smoking for a short time, but resumed his smoking unfortunately. There was no good outcome to be had.
When I turned age 39, I was wondering if I would make it pass that grim milestone. I had an eerie feeling that year and for good reason. One of my best friends in the world would be murdered and two days later, my step father would die of cancer. My best friend's mother would go on to lose three of her 4 children. One more to ALS and another to murder. Two murdered children in one family. As I mentioned above, there is always someone who has had it worse than you. Remember that.
Looking back, as I am nearing my 64th birthday, I am amazed that I am not in the crazy house. Getting back to the title of this blog, I have dealt with each of these incidents of grief in different ways. For my son Reese, I look at his picture each night that I go to sleep and pat myself on my chest where I used to hold him. On his birthday, we light a candle for Labor Day, since he was born on Labor Day.
For my father, I have researched his life and built a shadow box in his honor. He was a "Rakkasan" or Korea War paratrooper from the 187th which merged into the 101st Airborne. He spent over 10 years in both the Army and the Air Force, then joined the ranks of law enforcement where he served until his death. He was an American hero. I have his pictures on my phone and on my mantle. Further, I have done genealogy on the Allison family and this has been very rewarding to me personally.
For my best friend Mike, I have a beer holder in a drawer in my bath room that holds my hair brush. Every time I brush my hair, I see that beer holder. We were roommates and fraternity brothers and went to the Sigma Alpha Epsilon Leadership School together.
I have pictures of my brothers, David and Jon on my mantle too, along with one with my sister Tami. Whenever the clock strikes 12:12, I think of my brother David. We saw David on 12/12/1993 for the last time at my nephew's first birthday party. On his way home, he was killed in the automobile accident. I do not go by that exit on I-40 often, but when I do, I certainly do not like it. I have a golf tournament award that my brother Jon won along with a picture of him with Eddie Van Halen. I miss my brothers a lot. Both of them were great brothers.
The picture that I have of Tami is one with all of the Allison family except our father. She was always sweet to me and helped me fill in some gaps in regard to my father. It was like that show "Long Lost Family" when I met her in Las Vegas. We instantly connected.
One thing that I noticed about grief is that your friends change. People that you thought were your friends feel too inept to communicate with you, so they slowly slink away. While other people you do not expect have a newfound appreciation of what you have gone through. There is no one answer to dealing with grief. Of course, I could not do it without my faith in Jesus. I am comforted to know that he said "Let the little children come to me." That tells me all I need to know about how Jesus feels about Reese.
Right now, my wife's father is experiencing his last days in a nursing home. More grief to come for my wife and I. My wife lost her brother Jerome at age 57 which was the same age that my step father Hillman died. Unfortunately, grief never goes away, so you have to learn to live with it, like it or not. There is no reason to ruin your life and sink into a depressive state, or get addicted to drugs or alcohol to deal with it, because none of those things will help you. It is more important to recognize grief for what it is, accept it, then keep moving forward living your life. You will never get over the loss of people that you love, but you can choose to live your life and find your own happiness. Little by little, the weight of the 50 lb weight vest will start to dissipate. It will rreturn periodically, but you will get better at removing the weight of it. Stay focused on the future, respect the memories of the past, appreciate the gifts that you received of God putting those people in your life and then live your life in pursuit of your own happiness. Happiness is better than depression any day of the week.
