When Greg died; Lauren was 15 months old. She didn't have words except "Doggie" and "Daddy" and those were indistinguisible. You could see her wandering around as if looking for him, yet I don't think she even knew what she was looking for. It was eerie. It seemed like months before she got her giggles back; it was Dad who had always made her laugh. I know she was affected by the uncertainty we were feeling while he was struggling so to live, and though we tried to keep the kids on the regular schedule they were used to, there were long periods that they didn't even see Alice, let alone Daddy, and it was hard to keep up a hopeful, comforting stance when we saw him slipping away.
Scott, on the other hand, was very verbal. He has always had access to his feelings and with everyone's help, was wonderfully open and expressive. But you can imagine our pain at the content of his expression. His initial wails when we broke the terrible news that day, "Daddy! Daddy! Daaaddddyyy!" tore right through our hearts, and my eyes are filling up just telling about it. Yet we knew we had to be right up front about it, and there for him at the same time. He was in the Quaker nursery school and they helped, too. I'm told he talked with his older half-brother a lot, and Alex gave him a good sense of knowing Greg's place there in heaven, very forthright.
This is all very much in our minds. And there is a certain amount of good feeling, surprisingly, in getting to wallow in it. There is a balance. I know it must be hard to read all. A year later, when I was running around with my friend/co-worker/former boss Chris, the actual anniversary. Besides being a computer genius, Chris is an ordained Episcopal minister and had switched to that role the year before when the walls came crashing in. He had us all over to his house--Greg's family was all here from back east--and spent the time counseling us by way of preparing for the memorial services that we arranged together. Chris gave a lovely service at a beautiful little stone church they go to. Greg had actually worked with Chris on some programming projects (Greg was also a computer person) so they had a relationship of their own, and Chris his own grief to deal with it all of it. Chris's wife, Sally, took over a lot of the kid support during those 2 weeks, finally having them overnight that last night when all of us were gathered around Greg's bed as he slipped away.
At the very end, Greg's mother remained with his brother and sisters out in the waiting room. Keith and I stayed with Alice as she held his hand and let him go, Keith's arms around her at his side, me at his feet. They'd turned off all the beeps and warning buzzers on the monitors, but we couldn't help but watch the wavy lines up there get slower and softer, the numbers going lower and lower. There was so much equipment still going, they never did flatten out all the way, but we knew.
Scott, on the other hand, was very verbal. He has always had access to his feelings and with everyone's help, was wonderfully open and expressive. But you can imagine our pain at the content of his expression. His initial wails when we broke the terrible news that day, "Daddy! Daddy! Daaaddddyyy!" tore right through our hearts, and my eyes are filling up just telling about it. Yet we knew we had to be right up front about it, and there for him at the same time. He was in the Quaker nursery school and they helped, too. I'm told he talked with his older half-brother a lot, and Alex gave him a good sense of knowing Greg's place there in heaven, very forthright.
This is all very much in our minds. And there is a certain amount of good feeling, surprisingly, in getting to wallow in it. There is a balance. I know it must be hard to read all. A year later, when I was running around with my friend/co-worker/former boss Chris, the actual anniversary. Besides being a computer genius, Chris is an ordained Episcopal minister and had switched to that role the year before when the walls came crashing in. He had us all over to his house--Greg's family was all here from back east--and spent the time counseling us by way of preparing for the memorial services that we arranged together. Chris gave a lovely service at a beautiful little stone church they go to. Greg had actually worked with Chris on some programming projects (Greg was also a computer person) so they had a relationship of their own, and Chris his own grief to deal with it all of it. Chris's wife, Sally, took over a lot of the kid support during those 2 weeks, finally having them overnight that last night when all of us were gathered around Greg's bed as he slipped away.
At the very end, Greg's mother remained with his brother and sisters out in the waiting room. Keith and I stayed with Alice as she held his hand and let him go, Keith's arms around her at his side, me at his feet. They'd turned off all the beeps and warning buzzers on the monitors, but we couldn't help but watch the wavy lines up there get slower and softer, the numbers going lower and lower. There was so much equipment still going, they never did flatten out all the way, but we knew.
posted by Mary Smith at 9:38 AM
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