Hello,
I used to post here many times a day - it was a wonderful, comforting place to be at a time when the pain of the loss of our son Jay D. seemed unbearable. He died 16 years ago today. So, I was posting here regularly many years ago. We still remember him daily, but are now able to do so without the pain and hurt that we felt for so long.
The pain and hurt might have a benefit - it allowed us to learn to accept and love our son as strongly in our memories as we loved him during his life. It's strange, because the "apron strings" for the child that died never get cut - he will always remain 17 (and younger) and we will always want to take care of him. Taking care of him means keeping him in everyone's memory as well as ours. It has become our parental ambition for him.
Jay D will not have a generation after him - or two or three. No children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren who will benefit from his direct influence. They will not have memories to relate to one another. They can only benefit from him through stories about him. We do not want him to be a footnote in one of our descendant's family histories.
Here's an irritating little event that took place, however: Every year, around the date of his death, we have purchased a big mum plant for our church to use as decoration until Thanksgiving. Most people have thought it to be beautiful and decorative. We have it announced that it is in memory of Jay D. Four years ago, another boy in our town was killed in a car accident on November 1. His grandmother asked if I would also choose a similar plant for her to have in memory of her grandson. So, for 4 years there have been two bright, huge mum plants in church for a couple of weeks. About 3 years ago, one of the people in our church began complaining about the plants. She told me she thought they were a nuisance. She would say at other times that they were too big, they were gaudy, they were a mess when they dried out (which really never happened), and she thought they were unnecessary.
I'm guessing she thought it foolish that we "remembered" Jay D. so long after he died. I think she might have decided it was in poor taste to bring his death up every year. A week ago, just to be onry, I mentioned to the old biddy that I was planning to purchase the mum plants for the coming Sunday (yesterday). Yes, it was not a very Christian act on my part. She pretended to be surprised and said, "Oh, you are?"
On Wednesday, I received a call from the lady actually in charge of flowers - a sweet little 82-year old who, even in her most active years would not offend anyone. I'm sure she was caught in the middle. She explained to me that someone (she didn't say who) had found some cut mums from a garden, and we wouldn't be needing the plants this year. She added that the kitchen remodeling project made it hard to keep the mum plants wet during the week. I knew right away this was not her idea, but told her that I understood. (I saw no point in making her feel bad). So, no memorial mums this year! Later, after church, the lady that called me said "I'm sorry about that call this week - I didn't think that over very well." I told her it was fine.
Fortunately, the complaining lady did not show up at church yesterday, or I'm afraid I would have been catty. I think I'll just wait until next year, purchase the plants and bring them to church without consulting anyone. (I did, however, tell quite a few people that I was asked not to bring memorial flowers for Jay D. this year. I have some friends that will fuss about it!)
Jay D. would have loved this! He would have loved the fuss over a mum plant, and the fact that his mom was working on a way to fight for him.
For those of you in the first years of your grief, I truly want you to know that I share your sorrow for your child. I am so sorry you have to go through this, and so sorry that you no longer have your wonderful child in life. Please cherish the memories - the bad as well as the good. Your child will live on in your memories - you will still be able to see that wonderful face, hear that delightful voice, and imagine that wonderful person in clear, real memories. I like to think that Jay D. is now able to walk through any door he wants to relive his favorite times. If he does that, we are there too! How delightful.
Thank you so much for letting me share.
Jane