Sometimes, right out of the blue, a devastating glimpse crosses my mind. Immediately following, I get that nauseated feeling in my throat. I begin to feel a darkness creep over me. I try to erase it by shaking my head in the same manner you would an image on an etch-a sketch. By then it’s too late.
I see the image of my son laying on a steel bed. His head is turned to te right. His body is covered with a pink blanket and a large plastic tube sticks out of his mouth. I wanted it out but his dad said we weren’t allowed to remove it. That would be for the coroner to do. My gut instinct told me to yank it out but I didn’t. To this day, I regret not pulling it out. Unfortunately, it is but one of my regrets.
I regret not staying in the room longer with him. For some bizarre reason I felt bad for the nurse that was “keeping watch over us”. It was past his quitting time. I appoligized to him.
I regret not calling my best friend first. We have gone through hell and high water together these past 40 years. Why did I pick the person I picked? I don’t know. Yes, she is a good friend, but no where close to my bestest friend ever.
I regret getting mad at my mom for calling her sisters to tell them her precious Joey had passed. I was upset that people were gathering around us and taking precious viewing time away from us. I was suffocating. I hated so much sadness surrounding me.
I regret being the “strong one” The one that comforted those who came…friends, family, co-workers…and not allowing them to comfort me. As ther cried and hollered around me, I was the one telling them it would be ok. I wanted to be weak.
I regret giving out orders and not letting someone take the reins. ‘Get the name of the Donor Network lady.’ ‘Order food for visitors.’ Have my brothers go by his place and get Leo (his dog baby).’ ‘ Call my work.’ Call your work.’ Why do I always need to be in control?
I regret not being there to comfort my other children from the beginning of the nightmare and having them suffer without me.
I regret not thanking his girlfriend at the service for loving him through thick and thin. For loving him more that he loved himself at times. For telling me he was laughing at the end and assuring me that he was happy. And if I couldn’t be with him when he took his last breath, then then I am at peace that the woman that loved him almost as much as I did was.
I regret not reminding her of that more often.
I regret not being there when he took his last breath.
I regret being the first one to leave him. I regret being the last one there.
I could go on and on about things I regret or wish I could change. Everyday I seem to come up with something new. I assume that all who suffer loss go through the same cycle…wishing hoping then ending up with the same outcome. There is nothing we can do to change the past. If there was, I wouldn’t be here writing this blog.