Sitting. Thinking. Waiting.

My Grandmother "Mawmaw Eva" is dying.

She is 94 years old. Nearing the end of life is not a surprise, but I am so sad she will be gone. She called me her namesake, Eva Michelle, and liked to use my full name often. We lived with her for a short time when I was young and I have lots of happy memories helping in the kitchen, snuggling up in her lap, reading stories, and taking naps or as she called it "resting our eyes." Mawmaw was the greatest nap partner because she didn't sneak away after I fell asleep. She actually napped with me and I loved that we would wake up together. Even now, all I want to do is whisper for her to scooch her over so I can lay beside her, staying there until she wakes up, but I know I can't make that promise.






She doesn't have the strength to say much and what is said lacks context. Staring in the direction of the window she asked "will he be there?" I don't know to whom or where she was referring, perhaps her late husband (Pawpaw) Doyle, her son (Uncle) Van, her great-grandson Cooper, her brothers, her friends, or even God? I have no idea, but yes, I'm sure he will be there.

She is and has been such an important influence in my life, present for so many milestones. I am elated that she was able attend birthdays, violin concerts, graduations, to know my husband, witness our wedding, hold her great-grand baby.

Grandma, Michelle, Mawmaw

Mawmaw & Cooper

Her breathing has slowed and I know she and Cooper will be together in heaven soon.

I went to visit the Gardens today, to sit on the rocks next to Cooper's spot. It is always so peaceful there and with much on my mind was a great place to just be. I was reminded instantly why we chose this place for his ashes. One of my favorite things is just past the roses and over the creek. There stands a statue of a family and a father holding up his son playfully. Reminds me of someone.




It feels strange to see her stepping out of this life and into heaven. There is so much about dying that I associate with Cooper and it brings all those memories rushing back. The smell of oxygen on her breath, making sure she's comfortable, pain free, lips aren't too dry, no bed sores or skin breakdown behind her ears where the cannula sits, listening to her breathe. It's all so familiar and not so scary this time around. I know what to expect and that makes me feel somewhat hardened.

During our visit Mawmaw kept trying to sing something and no one could figure out what song it was. She loves gospel music and hymns and since then I've had the children's bible song stuck in my head... Deep and Wide, Deep and Wide, There's a fountain flowing deep and wide.

I love you deep and wide Mawmaw. It's ok to rest your eyes, he will be there.

Etymology

Lack of a word for bereaved parents has become a perseveration and just this morning it occurred to me, perhaps there hasn't been the need for such a definition until now. The word orphan for example dates back to the late 1400's, and it appears the term orphanage wasn't documented until the late 1800's amid the industrial revolution. What to call an institute for parentless children seemingly created out of necessity for the time. Even more recent words like parentcraft from the 1930's evolved into parenting, which wasn't recognized until the 1950's. I know, fully aware of my geek out moment and moving on.

I was thinking about the mortality rate of children during or within a year of childbirth 20, 50, 100 years ago and how our expectation of life saving measures morph in perpetual motion with medical advancement. As our knowledge of disease and genetics improve so does the potential treatment. In this day and age it's hard to imagine that yes, there are still diseases, conditions, syndromes, without a cure. I think about my grandparents who grew up on farms and their understanding of death at such an early age. The circle of life was a fact of life, may not have made it any easier to cope with loss, but it wasn't a shocking or unprecedented event either. As we become more urbanized, sheltered from the throws of nature, I'm willing to bet more people look to "The Lion King" for explanation rather than draw from an actual experience with death. Yes, bereaved parents are less and less common {thankfully}, which also means fewer people are able to relate. A vicious cycle.

If trends in music, mashups, create new sounds by blending pre-recorded tracks together, surely there is a similar market for new words too. So here goes. 

Starting with the definition: 

bereaved parent, to mourn the death of a child

Origins: 

Bereaved from Latin orbus, Greek orphos "bereft" and PIE (Finnish) orbh "to change allegiance, to pass from one status to another." 

Parent from Latin parentem (parens, pare) "to bring forth, give birth to, produce."

Mourn from Old Norse murna "to grieve over the dead," PIE (Finnish) smer "to remember," and mer "to die, wither." 

Possible Words: 

Parorbus

Paromer

Parormer

Parorm

Parorhm

Parorphem

Signs Everywhere

Wednesday was hard, harder than most days. I have yet to find the word which adequately describes the emptiness. I park the car and automatically open the back door, reaching for Cooper, but he isn't there. To take Abbi for a walk leaves my hands searching for the stroller and Cooper's face looking back at me. The day is no longer full of therapy, floor time, meds and feedings. We still say goodnight to Cooper every night, but there is no more bath or bedtime routine. Each day is just another day. 

For some crazy reason I thought it would feel better, maybe even good, to put Cooper's crib back in his room. The DME company came to pick up all of the borrowed medical equipment on Tuesday and I wanted his room to feel like it did before the gm1 became more intense. Once we had the twin beds back in the guest room, the crib in Cooper's room and the doors back on their hinges, I knew it was wrong. I was thankful for David's patience and that he just quietly helped me put it back the way Cooper left it. 
This week I tried out an adult horseback riding class. For one hour it felt good to focus on the movements of the horse and let go of my thoughts. On my way home I was flooded with memories of Cooper riding with me on his first birthday and the look of content and enjoyment on his face when riding (hippotherapy) with Mrs Jennifer. 

This morning I woke up longing for morning time snuggles and the smell of last night's bath. What I wouldn't give to feel the weight of his body in my arms and his head on my chest. 

Little reminders of Cooper are everywhere... the bluejay feather we found on a walk, the butterflies that tease each other above our swing, the dragonfly that welcomed me home from the grocery store... maybe it's just me missing him so badly which makes me hold onto this feeling that everything has a deeper meaning. It certainly helps me get through the day to think so, even if it sounds a little crazy. Maybe it's all perspective, seeing what we want to see, but at times those little reminders make me smile so I'm not going to analyze it.

The other day I went to visit Cooper at the Gardens and just as I was sitting down a little frog popped up! It surprised me a little but then it just sat with me as if to say don't worry, he's never alone. Cooper's little frog was still there when I left.



Waterbugs & Dragonflies

The day after Cooper's Memorial Service we had a private family service at Remembrance Gardens. It is a beautiful and inspiring Garden in the hills, full of shady trees that wander down to Lake Austin. Our pastor gave us this children's book afterwards...it was too fitting not to share. 

Waterbugs and Dragonflies
By Doris Stickney


Down below the surface of a quiet pond lived a little colony of water bugs. They were a happy colony, living far away from the sun. For many months they were very busy, scurrying over the soft mud on the bottom of the pond. They did notice that every once in a while one of their colony seemed to lose interest in going about with its friends. Clinging to the stem of a lily, it gradually moved out of sight and was seen no more.


'Look!' said one of the water bugs to another, 'One of our colony is climbing up the lily stalk. Where do you suppose she is going?' Up, up, up it went slowly. Even as they watched, the water bug disappeared from sight. Its friends waited and waited but it didn't return. 'That's funny!' said one water bug to another. 'Wasn't she happy here?' asked a second water bug. 'Were do you suppose she went?' wondered a third. No one had an answer. They were greatly puzzled.


Finally one of the water bugs, the leader of the colony, gathered its friends together. 'I have an idea. The next one of us who climbs up the lily stalk must promise to come back and tell us where she went and why.' 'We promise', they said solemnly.


One spring day, not long after, the very water bug who had suggested the plan found himself climbing up the lily stalk. Up, up, up he went. Before he knew what was happening, he had broken through the surface of the water, and had fallen onto the broad, green lily pad above.


When he awoke, he looked about with surprise. He couldn't believe what he saw. A startling change had come to his old body. His movement revealed four silver wings and a long tail. Even as he struggled, he felt an impulse to move his wings. The warmth of the sun soon dried the moisture from the new body. He moved his wings again and suddenly found himself up above the water. He had become a dragonfly.


Swooping and dipping in great curves, he flew through the air. He felt exhilarated in the new atmosphere. By and by, the new dragonfly lighted happily on a lily pad to rest. Then it was that he chancd to look below to the bottom of the pond. Why, he was right above his old friends, the water bugs!. There they were, scurrying about, just as he had been doing some time before. Then the dragonfly remembered his promise: 'The next one of us who climbs up the lily stalk will come back and tell where he or she went and why'.


Without thinking, the dragonfly darted down. Suddenly he hit the surface of the water and bounced away. Now that he was a dragonfly he could no longer go into the water. 'I can't return!' he said in dismay. 'At least I tried, but I can't keep my promise. Even if I could go back, not one of the water bugs would know me in my new body. I guess I'll just have to wait until they become dragonflies too. Then they'll understand what happened to me, and where I went'.


And the dragonfly winged off happily into its wonderful new world of sun and air. 

A PRAYER
Thank you, God, for the story of the water bugs and the dragonflies. Thank you for the miracle that makes shiny dragonflies out of water bugs.
Please remember Cooper who has left the pond we live in. Give him a good life, too, in a wonderful new world of sun and air. And then remember me, and let me someday be with him.
Amen.

Angel Wings

Cooper peacefully earned his wings this afternoon as the three of us sat on the swing under our tree in the backyard. We were talking and rocking, and he just decided it was time. We are so thankful that he chose the time and place. It couldn't have happened that way if we'd planned it... just as it should be.

Goodnight Cooper. We love you.