I lied. I’m not strong and I’m not finding hope. I want MY child to have his kidneys, liver, and tissues. I want him to be him. I miss him so much already. Familiar places offer no comfort and only serve to rub salt in the wound left by his harsh absence. The silence of living without his laugh, giggle, voice is maddening…his six years of animate, organic life so unfairly brief. I want to comfort myself with thoughts of him reuniting with loved ones gone before. But I’m jealous and angry: I want him here. I want him here. I want him here.
I am rude to guests when I break down and hide. My heart and my chest feel the pain of not having his close-by. The joys, smiles and comfort from those around me offer no such thing. How can they? It’s almost a mockery of that anguish; so absolute…so all-encompassing now. I cannot imagine it will ever subside. I cannot imagine ever seeing a smile without longing for his. Or feeling joy without a spike of pain.
Experiencing silence without listening for his voice. Or life’s routines ever re-rooting in this familiar reality so skewed and twisted by his palpable absence.
My son is gone.
His heart beats no more. He draws no more breath. His eyes, cold and lifeless somewhere on a medical examiner’s table, instead of looking at mine across the dinner table. His sweet hands, no longer driving matchbox cars across the furniture, or dirty from playing or stained from drawing with markers. All of the things he never knew, never learned and never experienced overwhelm my consciousness with loss and pain beyond all possible depiction.
Just today, I must have kissed him a thousand times; his body calm and warm from medical technology. The sobs came so quickly at first along with all of that powerful hurt crushing me like some tender reed in a hurricane; sweeping me up like his limp body in that kind stranger’s arms. I would do anything; pay any price to redeem him, even as just a shadow in my boy’s body.
But his body was too broken. Too far gone. And in that moment I have to push all of the trauma of that incident to the back of my mind so that I can instead focus on what is left of him, laid before me so lifelessly and so delicately. I’m angry that my eyes can only record snippets of him in my brain, so I deliberately and painstakingly examine his remaining beauty, consciously filing it away for times like now when the pain rises up and threatens to overcome me.
I know he is gone. I could not ask him to stay. I could feel his spirit hanging on and longing to be set free from what was so irreversibly damaged.
So now, I find MYSELF irreversibly damaged. Every second outside of the hospital’s soft, caring eyes and calm soothing voice seems like yet another eternity in some deeper level of hell: familiar places without him.
Silence unbroken by a child’s voice. No baths to administer, no splashes to mop up, no requests, giggles, whines or needs to attend to. Bedtimes with no little arms to encircle me, no bedtime stories to read, no soft small cheeks or stuffed animals to kiss goodnight. It’s just this horrific silence where I am left to contemplate a world with no more logic, no more gravity, no more reason. No reassurance. No sanctuary. No….Noah
Without Noah 
Your words are so detailed and yet I know it doesn’t come close to the detailed brokeness you and your family are feeling! I only knew Noah sadly through post after the accident..yet feel in my heart that I knew of him for years. Not understanding the heartache that I have felt each day reading the updates..I can not begin to imagine the heartache you felt with each word posted! There are no (nor will there ever be) any words to say to you that ease your pain. Only God can do that..and I pray that He swoops you up in HIS arms and comforts you as only He can! HE is a big God and HE understands the anger (even if directed towards HIM)..He understands that loss of a child as HE gave us HIS only Son…and in that unselfishness we can rest assured that YOU WILL see your Noah again one day! I know it will never be soon enough as you struggle to go thru the days until that time..but please know that you dont have to be strong..you dont have to be *nice* or feel ok! You do what it takes for you to take one step at a time no matter how long it takes to take that first step! My prayers are with you and your family! Noah is in your future now…and look forward to that trip to see him just like you would any other journey!
My deepest deepest sympathy to you…only a person that has gone thru it can say they know how you feel.
thank you so much. this is so helpful…i feel like i should wear black so that people will know to be extra gentle and understanding with me. Or maybe a badge or sign to wear that says “Danger: Prone to Sporadic Breakdowns”
I think this is a really good idea.
Writing will help you get this out of your head, keep the painful emotions from strangling your heart.
There’s no time-frame here, friend–no time table on when you’ll feel… any emotion (bad or good, some days you will laugh, you will experience joy too. Some days may be extra hard without warning).
Please be patient with yourself.
We’re honored to be able to read this.
Noah was your sunshine and now your days are cloudy. At first all you will see are clouds and then occasionally a ray of sun will peek through and you will wonder if that is your sunshine your Noah looking at you with his new eyes. Then you will see clouds that have shapes and you will see his face, his nose and his smile and then the clouds move and just for a second you imagine he is floating hiding behind a cloud. You will hear his voice, even tho it is just in your heart. Our children are a gift from God. Others have sunshine in their life because of Noah. They have parts of Noah that he does not need anymore. Noah gave and gave and gave. Remember the smiles and just know even tho life is so hard now for the 3 of you and that is really hard to say I know when it should be 4. Life is hard but it will get better. Let the sunshine peak through when you are ready. Noah would like that
I came to know of your family through a mutual friend (Becca Booth), and I have been pulling for Noah, pulling for your family. You do not need to be strong. It is still so fresh, and while time will never replace what is irretrievably gone, the freshness will fade. You do not need to be brave, or polite. You need what you need, and no one has any right to expect anything more… or less.
I’ve been blogging a while, and there are some other good blogs I read from parents who have lost children– I just wanted to leave you a few to give you some hope that while life will never be the same, there is hope. And maybe help you connect with anyone who might help ease your pain.
http://www.theredneckmommy.com/
http://thespohrsaremultiplying.com/
http://hannahandlily.blogspot.com/ (this woman’s daughter was lost in a very similar incident to what your family is going through)
There is still life ahead of all of you, better because Noah was in it. I am thinking of you and yours every day.
THANK YOU so much for this. I will check these out…
You ARE strong, Sara. Stonger than you realize. Keep pouring your heart and soul out — here or wherever you can. Remember my number and seriously I MEAN it. I know we were never close but I am a good listener and I know what it’s like to be up at 3 in the morning and think no one cares. I DO. Even if its 3 or 4 in the morning, and you need to talk to someone, CALL ME. I never lost a child; that is the one thing I have often said I could never have survived. I have no way of knowing the pain you are feeling and frankly, I don’t ever wish to be able to. But I can promise you an ear and no “pithy” comments or sayings. PLEASE take care of yourself!
Thank you Dawn. I may just do that – it hurts to be too alone and as the weeks go by and people fade away…back into the routine of their lives…that’s when I think I will need friends, family, PEOPLE the most.
In case you didn’t get it on the other site – 913-269-5925. Yes there will come a time when it seems people have forgotten. It isn’t intentional but they don’t know what to say or do. I have found that people really do mean well but sometimes, well, that foot just pops right in that mouth regardless of how much you don’t want it to. Unfortunately, once the words are out, they don’t go back in. I want to hear from you in a month or so, ok??
My heart goes out to you, Jason and Zoe. I can’t imagine the pain you all must be feeling and every day I pray that God doesn’t deem me strong enough to take one of my own children home before my arrival there. You are all in my prayers daily. always, Julie
Your honesty and openness to share will help you thru the darkest of days. Yes most of us are selfish in this life when it comes right down to the bottom line. We want to be loved and we want to give love because that is the way God designed us. We are often what we think we are not. You are stronger than you think, because you are sharing your deepest thoughts with all of us who have been moved to tears also. You are enduring the biggest saddness that any mother could ever face and you are doing so with Grace. Your words are poetic and pure and proof of your everlasting love for Noah. Your willingness to confront the pain head on is brave and courageous, so soak it all in as you must. You may find it hard at this moment to believe that you are BLESSED, but I believe God BLESSED you with much. You have been loved by a son that many mothers can never have. You have been hugged and kissed by a child that only knew life because of you. Yes, you have so much more to be grateful for than many of us will never know. Thanks for sharing with us and keep on searching for the HOPE that God wants you to know.
Jim, this is so comforting, thank you. I am grateful for every single second I had with my sweet boy. It wasn’t enough. It isn’t fair. He is gone all too suddenly and I’m reeling…
Sara – I am so glad you are writing. Such raw pain cannot be ignored nor bend to any expectations of what you “should” be doing or feeling. Just feel, process, deal the way you need each moment.
You are wrong, though. You are strong. You are fully present in your loss and pain. You are not running away in denial nor giving up. You continue to move, to breath, to feel. That requires great strength at this moment.
Keep moving through the pain. We’re all supporting you silently in the background, waiting for a time when we can help. Much love to you and yours.
Thank you, Pam. Every move, every moment seems so silent and painful.
My heart aches for your loss, and it aches for the pain you are feeling in your heart and soul right now. It’s okay to feel every emotion you are feeling, and you have every right to feel the way you do. There is no time frame in which you will no longer feel all these emotions. Everyone has their own time and way to grieve, some longer or shorter than others. And when a child has passed, it really is a lifelong process of grieving and learning to live without. As parents we never expect our children to pass before us, let’s face it, they are not supposed to. Yet when it happens, parents must deal with the contradictory burden of wanting to be free of overwhelming pain and yet needing it as a reminder of the sweet child who passed. So, the only thing to do is learn to cherish every memory you have. Those memories will in time help you create an “inner peace” and will help you maintain that closeness you had with Noah. Expressing your feelings in writing like this is one of the best and theraputic things you can do and will also be used as a blessing to others who have or will experience this same type of loss. My best friend, who is a single mom, lost her son not even a year ago, and she is still learning how to go on and live without, She has her good days and bad, and sometimes when she has a good day she feels guilty for doing so, but in time that will get better too. Talking to others who have experienced the same time of loss is also a very good thing to do, because only they know the depth of the pain you are feeling. I do know that where Noah is right now, he is having a wonderful time, and in a place of beauty that those of us here on earth can’t even begin to comprehend. I too pray that God will comfort you and your family in the days/years ahead. We will never understand why our children are taken from us, but one thing we do know is when they are taken from us at such a young age, they are assured a place in the Eternal Kindgom above. The goal now is to make sure we will reunite with them again one day. God bless you also for the organ donations, because now Noah will go on living through other children who have been suffering. He saved so many lives at such a young age, and what a selfless act on your part for allowing that. My prayers will never cease for you and your family!
Thank you so much. I feel like we still so desperately need every single word of every single prayer…
Sara, Jason and family, thoughts, prayers and healing energy are being sent your way from so many. The pain that you are feeling is unimaginable. As a friend of someone who lost their 5 year old daughter last summer the same way, I can only tell you that the strength and courage that the family with three survivng children has received from their loved ones, friends, strangers, and God has helped them to slowly move on all the while keeping Meghan’s spirit alive through memories, stories and happy anecdotes. As a father or two I just can’t fathom the overwhelming pain that you must feel and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being so vulnerable and sharing this with us. You are doing a service that you cant even imagine for so many others as you slowly try to heal from this horrifically tragic event. God bless you and your family and lots of love to all of you.
Your words are poetic, beautiful, raw, and a true testament to the kind of amazing mother you clearly are. While we have never met (I went to high school with Jason and my children went to Kaci’s as well), through your words you have allowed so many, including myself, into your deepest, darkest moments. We have prayed with you and for you, hoped with you, cried with you, and loved your beautiful son through your words. The strength of your family and selfless act of organ donation is awe-inspiring. You have allowed other families to feel joy through the loss of one of your greatest treasures. So while you may feel weak, know that you are not. You have to be one of the strongest women I know. Allow yourself to hurt, be angry, throw things, scream, cry, and during your darkest moments allow others to carry you, all the while knowing that you are strong. Wanting him here doesn’t make you weak, it makes you a mother. I wish I could take away some of your pain or offer words to help guide you through this but, there are none. I can only promise to continue to keep you, Jason, and Zoe in my prayers for a long time to come. I will pray that God wraps His loving arms around you all and that eventually you find peace.
thank you so much. just…thank you
Sara,
I don’t know you, personally. I’ve been following Noah’s story via a Facebook friend. I want to tell you how intensely, desperately, sorry I am for your family. You are enduring a pain no human being should ever be asked to cope with. Your words are so vivid, too vivid, maybe. I look at my three babies, especially my 5 year old dreamboat of a boy, and your words echo in my heart. My stomach clenches, and I have to close my eyes to block the what-ifs that chase around my consciousness. I can’t imagine your pain, because I don’t want to, it’s too much, too awful.
But your words are powerful too. I have been kinder, more loving, more patient with my babies because of them. I won’t take them for granted, I will relish in every moment with them, and I promise, I will think of your Noah often.
Thank you so much. And no never take them for granted. Children are precious, extraordinary little entities and my Noah taught me more about life and love than I could ever have hoped to teach him. Squeeze those babies extra close for me an for Noah!
Sara,
I saw your precious Noah’s name on Cole’s Foundation and I have not stopped praying for your precious son and each of his beloveds since reading about this horrible tragedy. I hadn’t checked in there for some time and for some reason, Noah’s name was the one my eyes went to first. I do not believe this was just a random coincidence. While I do not know you personally, my heart and prayers are with you and your family. Noah’s smile was so full of joy, I am so so sorry that you can not witness it any longer, I am so sorry that Noah is gone from you phsyically. I can not even imagine the nightmare that you are living. While I know nothing at all about the loss of a child…I have followed a blog http://www.rockstarronan.com for over a year. Maya lost her son Ronan, also. She gives credit to the MISS Foundation for saving her life as she struggled (and continues to) to move forward in the days and months following Ro’s death. Whether you reach out to them or some other organization, etc….I hope you know many many people are sending you love and prayers.
Sara ~
Writing about your feelings will be medicine for your soul. Continuing to pray for you and your family and wishing so badly I could erase what you all are going through. Just want you to know that people are surrounding you right now and lifting you up as you continue to journey through the pain and loss of your baby boy. Time will never bring Noah back, but time will eventually heal the rawness of this tragedy. Until then, know that God is walking with you and cries every tear you cry.
My heart is aching for you and your family. A blog reader left your blog in a comment for me and I came as soon as I could. I’m so so sorry for your loss. Your words are so eloquent and powerful. Keep writing. I found my blog was my place to dump everything and I did it. I held nothing back and it was an invaluable tool for me in dealing with my grief.
Please know you and your loved ones are in my prayers. Please be gentle with yourself. Take it one moment (sometimes just living from one second to the next was enough) at a time and breathe. Just breathe.
Many hugs to you,
Rachael
I think we are all stronger than we want to be. We want to lay down and never stand again, but somehow we do, even if it is just a short trip to the bathroom. My natural instinct is to write all of my thoughts here, and how I relate to your emotions, but suffice it to say my heart breaks for you. I will be praying that you accept your grief and each other’s, in whatever form it takes, for however long it lasts.
I am so sorry for your tragic loss. I pray God will give you comfort and peace. Little Noah is experiencing ultimate peace and happiness now. Prayers…..
I think most people would agree that the pain you’re faced with now, is the pain people fear most. It is unimaginable, and so very, very unfair. There are no rules for your grief. I wish for you the strength to get though the upcoming days, hours, minutes. I pray that you, Jason and Zoe are able to find the strength to care for and comfort each other.
Retreat when you need to, lean on others when you need to, and cry often.
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.”–Washington Irving
You are on my mind, in my thoughts and prayers.
We wished for him to live, we wished he would be whole. We didn’t get what we hoped for, so now we are left to wish you comfort, strength and peace.
I’m so sorry for the loss of your beautiful boy and the pain you have to endure in his absence.