it comes in waves you know, big ones...really close together

“How’s your son doing?” I’ve been asked repeatedly lately and I casually give people the update… filling them in as best I can. “We almost lost him,” I’ve said more times that I care to admit, but only once have I’ve stopped and let myself really think about what that means. The son who can get out of any kind of trouble just by flashing his amazing smile. The 1st grader who reads at a 5th grade level. The quintessential sports nut. The boy who at almost 7 still doesn’t feel too old to wrap himself around my neck in the morning so that I can inhale his sweetness. That kid almost ceased to exist. Gone…forever. How do I process that? How do I sleep without creeping into his room to be sure he’s still breathing? How do I ever move on from the image of him nonresponsive and swallowed in the hospital bed at Rileys, me in the chair next to him, not sleeping at 2am but instead watching his monitors? How do I find my way back to life as usual?




“I almost died,” is his excuse for everything these last few days…but he doesn’t know what that means in life and he doesn’t know what that means to me. My heart will forever hurt, I am forever changed. He’s my boy…and I will forever NEED HIM!