Two years have passed and still you haunt me, my boy.
It’s been two years since Bug turned sheet white and non-responsive. Two years since my husband ran out to start the car on a frosty fall evening in the middle of the night. Two years since I looked Boo square in the eye and told him this was the one time I couldn’t take my child to the hospital. I wasn’t strong enough.
It has been two years since I buckled Bug into his car seat and kissed his forehead, told him mommy loves him, and hold tight. Mommy will make it all better.
Two years since I drove as fast as my car could go, the pedal to the floor. Two years since I hoped I wouldn’t hit any animals in the dark, two years since I prayed for just this once to be stopped by a police car, anything not to be so alone with my fear and worry in the dark.
It’s been two years since I phoned my husband in the middle of the night, while he waited for a baby-sitter to watch Fric and Frac and told him I was more frightened than I have ever been before, so worried I would fail Bug.
It has been two years since I whipped into that parking lot and felt sick to my stomach. I feared when I opened the door to get Bug out, he would be dead.
Two years since I saw my son’s head hang at an unnatural angle, drew a deep breath and yanked him out of his seat and ran into the emergency room, with him hanging limply in my arms. He was warm.
It has been two years since I literally threw him into the arms of a worried nurse and he ran off with my son, calling out a code. Two years since I stood and watched them try and find a pulse, insert a central line, and scream medical terms that I understood all too well.
Two years since my mouth ran dry as cotton and my heart thumped like a rabbit’s.
It’s been two years since I asked to sit in a dark room and wait to hear any news. I couldn’t handle watching his little body lie there lifeless as they tried to perform an act of God and bring him back to me.
Two years since his pediatrician, bedraggled and haggard, with the light from the hall shining behind him, walk into that dark room and just start to weep. Two years before a stream of doctors and nurses entered after him and patted me on the knee and apologised for not being able to save him.
It has been two years since I sat there in disbelief and terror and waited to shed a tear while others around me wept.
It has been two years since my husband ran into that dark room and looked at me with fear and hope in his eyes. It has been two years since I had to muster the strength to tell him he was too late, his son passed away, I couldn’t save him.
Two years since I last saw my baby, kissed his face, sang his song and said good bye.
Two years since I walked out of that hospital, childless, with Bug’s clothing in a plastic white bag, and Boo by my side.
Two years since I drove home in silence, alone, to face my children.
Two years since I woke them up and told them their brother died.
It has been two years and it still hurts as much as it did the day it happened.
Two years and I haven’t stopped missing my Bug.
Two years and I still haven’t stopped loving him.
Two years and I still wish every damn day that fateful night had turned out differently.
It has been two years.
I’m worn out with wishing.
119 Comments
Oh, baby. I’m crying. Who wouldn’t be? This broke my heart in seventeen ways, but still that’s not a fraction of the ways in which your heart has been broken.
I’m so very sorry.
Please offer my condolences to Boo, Fric, and Frac as well.
I am holding you all in my thoughts today.
And I’m sure Bug is smiling down at all of you.
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I’m thinking of you and feeling so sorry that all I can offer you is (((((((hugs))))))) maybe your bug and Leo are playing together up there and thinking all of us are being daft for still missing them so much. If you need to talk you can email me any time. lukasmummy2@hotmail.co.uk hugs Crystal xxxx
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I wish you peace on this day and every next day forever and ever.
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i’ve been thinking of you so hard knowing this was coming, this time of year, this loss.
i love you. you.
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Oh friend. I wish too there was more I could do for you on this day. To be there with you, cry with you and tell you how lucky Bug is to have you as his mommy.
I wish more then anything I could help heal the pain.
With these tears streaming down my face and this lump in my throat; I feel like I knew Bug. I am so very sorry.
I am here for you. Today and everyday!
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I can sit and stare at this page all night long and still not be able to say anything that could possibly touch what you are feeling. I have no idea and honestly, could only imagine in my nightmares. But reading your previous blog - I know you and your family loved that little boy with everything you had for every moment of his life - and every day after. I love the way you celebrate Bug’s life - yet mourn him with the whole of your soul. Bug was a special little boy but he was part of a very special family. He was born to the right people.
Thinking about you, Bug, and your family with peaceful thoughts.
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I really have no words but to say thank you so very much for sharing his memory with us.
I am so sorry Redneck.
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There are just no words to express how much this moved me. Thank you for sharing your pain with all of us.
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That had me crying. I hope that among the sadness today, that you, Boo, Fric and Frac were able to celebrate your son’s amazing life.
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I am so sorry. Nothing more to say.
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I’m so sorry, my friend. Love you.
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I wish your family peace in this extremely difficult time.
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I wish there were a way to make all your tomorrows hold the solace of knowing you did not fail him, because you didn’t. You gave him, and continue to give him, a kind of love that many kids never really experience. I hope your family will find healing as it grows again.
Fierce hugs.
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I am so sorry for your loss. To outlive your child is a burden no one should have to face.
From what little I know of the story, gleaned from old posts and the details you share here, it seems like it may have been a fortunate for him to pass instead of continuing to live in pain. While it leaves you without him (and him without you for that matter), ultimately it may have been better for him that way.
I hope you find peace someday, although admittedly if I were in your shoes I don’t know if I would. Try to make the best of the shitty situation, for yourself and your family.
Take care.
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I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could bring him back for you, or take away your pain.
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My heart just shattered into a thousand pieces reading this, and the tears are rolling down my cheeks. I’m so very very sorry, for you, for Fric, for Frac and for Boo. You should have had many more years together.
Thinking of you.
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Oh God, T. I love you friend. And my heart is aching alongside yours. Sometimes these words we share are a shallow substitute for a flesh and blood presence, I wish I could offer you something more.
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I am sitting here crying for you.
No, with you. For that lost, precious little boy.
I am so very, very sorry.
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So, so much love to you and Boo and the kids from me and D.
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I am so sorry T. I’m always here for you.
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I wish I could do or say something. I am listening. I am reading. I am wishing as well.
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This took courage, and much love to share this.
You never failed Bug, T. Never.
I wish that was any kind of consolation.
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I’m coming out of the shadows for the 2nd time in as many days. All I can really say is… Bug was a very lucky boy to have you for his mama. It shows how much you love him and although his life was short, he spent it surrounded by that love. You didn’t fail him. You gave him a life and you made it as special as any one person could. My heart goes out to you and yours.
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oh god, what a drive T. tears are splashing on my keyboard, and i wish so badly that you were close by…i’d just like to sit with you, and talk about Bug.
love to you.
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bought tears to my eyes. so sorry.
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God Bless.
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Words fail me. Tears do not. Thank you for sharing.
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i pray the pain gets easier for you.
this post made me go and hug my girls a little tighter.
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Coming out of lurking to say I am so very heartbroken for you and your family. I can’t even imagine the pain you are dealing with. I wish I had something to say……I’m just so sorry.
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I’m so sorry. Thank you for sharing.
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I have no words. Just that my heart hurts for you and your family. Your Bug was blessed to have had you.
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I’ve been staring at this page for a while trying to find the right words.
There are none. None. To say I am sorry doesn’t cut it… but I am, my heart aches for you and Boo and Fric and Frac. My heart broke reading this, time and again.. you never failed him love, you couldn’t have. Peace to you, I pray for that.
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Coming out of the shadows to say that how you write about your Bug, and THAT you write about him, has changed the way I see special needs kids. To know that a mom out there smiles at a mom and a child who others might look away from is something that I hope helps you somehow. Your writing has helped remind me that there is a story and a lot of love behind what might look to me simply painful to endure. That is your tribute to your Bug.
Much peace.
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I am sorry for your loss. From a dark place the light of your love shines out and teaches. Your son’s life touched mine thru his devoted mothers words. So many lessons from such a short time. Thank you for sharing and may peace be with you.
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Thinking of you and your family. May you find a bit of peace, if not today, at least in the coming year.
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My heart breaks for you. I don’t even know what else to say.
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don’t ever stop missing him…he is part of you and will always be… i know it is no consolation whatsoever…but time will make the memories better and more bearable…until then…hang in there
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Crying for you in Tanzania - knowing there is nothing I or anyone else can say to make it better.
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Thinking of you as always.
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So sorry for your. Wishing there were words that could take away your pain. Will pray for your family.
Marie
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While there are no words for you and your family, I’m sending prayers and thoughts your way.
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I knew I shouldn’t have read this post at work. I’m now at the ugly-cry-stage and hoping nobody walks by.
I pray for you T…and your family. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that…and I know you’ll miss your Bug until the day you die and get to be with him.
Thinking of you…
Julie
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The pain eventually lessens. Missing them never does. Thoughts and prayers are with you.
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My friend, I’m thinking about you and your family today. I can’t imagine how tough this is for you. Many hugs and wet, sloppy kisses.
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My heart is with you.
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Tell us about him whenever you need to. We’re listening.
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No mom ever should have to make that kind of a drive, to live through that kind of a day.
I wish like crazy I could give you a big hug, though I know nothing can take away the pain you’re feeling at this anniversary. Thinking of you and your family and wishing you as much peace as possible.
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I am sobbing as I reach out to tell you that I am thinking of you and your sweet boy. You were as lucky to have him as he was to have you. I wish I had the words to take away the pain. But all I have is much love and virtual hugs for a friend. Thinking of you. xoxo
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Namaste
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I have tears in my eyes as I write this. I am so truly sorry for your tremendous loss.
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Hoping you get wet sloppy Bug kisses in your dreams tonight. You’re a good woman T.
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My heart aches for you and your family. I will pray for you. Know that so many people are thinking and praying for you.
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He was blessed to have you and so much love around him for the time he was on earth. He was truly an angel. Thinking of you and your family this week.
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Lay your grief at God’s feet and ask Him to ease your pain. Bless your heart. xox
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So very sorry you (and your family) ever had to experience that. You’re in my prayers for peace and comfort.
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Crying many many tears for you, and wishing you peace.
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I know there’s nothing to say to make this better or easier. But, I’m so genuinely sad and sorry for you and for your family.
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Thinking of you and your family. You all were so lucky to have Bug, and he was so lucky to have you. Can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for all of you. Wishing you peace and healing.
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T. Oh, T.
After reading this, I just sat here for a few minutes and thought about you and your shalebug. I think of him, and you, often.
(((HUGS)))
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I know we all wish there was something more we could do for you, but our words and thoughts and prayers have to suffice. You are most certainly loved by so many, all those positive vibes going out to you must surely help a little. Be well and take care of yourself during this tough time. And know that *we* will never forget your Bug either.
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I’m so sorry it hurts so much Tannis. There’s nothing I can do to make it better, I know. Take care sweetie.
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I know your loss and your pain.
It isnt ever easy, and it never really ends…
But you wouldnt want it to.
I know that much to be true.
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I’m sitting here weeping as I’m reading your post. I cannot even begin to imagine the unbelievable pain you and your family went and are still going through. If I could make a wish come true right now, I would bring your little angel back. He is a lucky boy to have you as his mommy. Many hugs.
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If it breaks MY heart to pieces reading it I could never imagine the scope of living it and I ache for you when you write about your lost little one. I truly wish you and your family didn’t have to go through it, still do and always will. I’m so sorry.
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I know I can’t take away the hurt or the sadness. I can only offer my sincere wish for you to find some solace. Your story touches so many people from so many different walks of life. We all are grieving with you on this anniversary and please know that your little shalebug is still touching people daily, inspiring people. I don’t necessarily find myself to be a “strong” person, but today I find myself (and I am sure I am not alone) wanting to be in BFE Canada standing by your side. Just if you needed it. I have some suspicion that you, my dear, are much stronger than I can ever hope to be. Much love, many hugs and kisses.
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He was such a beautiful boy-in many ways, thank you for sharing him. Thinking of you today, friend.
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Oh T, I had to lock myself in the bathroom for a minute because I was crying too hard and didn’t want to scare the kids. Then I came out and hugged them extra tight. So sorry you had to (are) go(ing) through that. Big, big hugs.
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This probably sounds strange, but I can’t thank you enough for sharing Bug with all of us. Because of him, I hug my kids tighter. Because you’ve been generous enough to let us hear his story, and feel the love you have for him, I am more grateful and patient. Your Little Man has made me a better person.
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I have no words to match what my heart felt reading this. Thank you for sharing. I’m so so sorry for your loss.
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This seems like more than any mother, father, sister or brother should ever have to bear. I’m so sorry.
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Peace to you my friend. May you find peace.
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(((((HUGS)))))
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I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. *hugs*
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This post touched me. I hurt for you, through your deep words. I pray for you, for your (and your family’s) peace. My thoughts for you are that your angel perpetually smiles upon you. I’m so sorry you lost your Bug. Words can’t even describe….
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I’ve been a lurker for sometime to your blog but this post has forced me out. My prayers are for you and your family whenever you are reminded of your son. That said, it seems you’ve done an amazing job trying to maintain a rich life for you and your family and I hope that it continues for you.
Ron
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In each memory you have of him, each thought, he is with you, in spirit - and will always be. I’m sorry he’s no longer here with you - but I know he’s smiling and laughing along with all of you - and I know he loves and misses each of you just as you do him.
T, I cant imagine your pain. I admire you as a mom, as a person.
Hugs and love to all of you.
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Hugs to you.
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I wish I could just give you a hug because words just seem to fail me. Sending you all so much love and wishing you peace…
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Sending you hugs. xxx
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(((((((((Hugs))))))))
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(((Hugs))) My thoughts and prayers are with you and yours.
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RM, I am so, so sorry this is your story. I am sitting at work here crying, because I can feel in your words just a tiny piece of the pain you carry, and just that little bit hurts. I can’t imagine, honey. I can only wish I was there to give you rib-cracking hugs and let you cry on my shoulder while I sobbed witih you, and then fed you ice cream and put you to bed when you were all wrung out. I would, dear, if I could. Meanwhile, I can only tell you how brave I think you are to share it.
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Two weeks ago was the first time in my life I ever had to be with someone when they died.
I am really struggling. I am trying to put on a good face, but I’m really struggling.
Somehow it is comforting to me though to come here and read you today.
We are not alone, you and I.
I’ll just be over here, grieving alongside you.
xo,
OTJ
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Crying tears for you, with you today.
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I pray for you and your family, every time you talk about Bug I cry my eyes out … please know I am senging ((HUGS))
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I love you, Redneck Mommy. Is that weird? I’ve never seen you but I’m crying like Bug was someone I knew. Like you’re someone I know. I think you’re amazing.
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Through my tears for you and your family, I can only tell you that I send you my love and wishes for comfort during this painful time.
God bless him and you.
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Just tears. Tears for you and Boo, for Fric and Frac, for your Bug. I’m wishing too; wishing that you’d never had to go through such pain.
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Nothing I haven’t said before. My sincerest condolences to all of you this week, I know it’s a particularly difficult time for you all.
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I never know exactly what to say, but I am so sorry you’ve had to go through this. No parent should have to lose a child, and I can’t even comprehend the pain it must cause.
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Time is supposed to heal … but I often wonder if the people who insist on saying that have ever experienced gut-wrenching pain. By sharing these poignant memories, you bring Bug alive for all of us, and you allow us to know him, to share in your grief, and to feel our own sadness at his loss almost as if he were our child too. Thank you for that. Love and prayers to you.
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Oh T. I wish this for you, too. Alas, it cannot be. So instead I wish you peace and healing as the time goes by. And the hope that someday you will once again hold your Bug close.
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Hugs. Hugs and love.
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No parent should ever have to go through the loss of a child. I’m so very sorry.
My heart aches for you as it does for my friends little girl/family. She is now with out her mommy due to a senseless accident.
I can’t stop thinking about her. Scary how life can forever be changed in an instant.
Love to you !
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This is as haunting to read as if it happened today. My heart is beating so fast and there are tears in my eyes for your loss.
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There are no words…although I don’t know from my own experience, I know from what I have read, what my husband’s Mom’s best friend grieved at losing her middle child when he was 33 and just intuitively as a mother, that you never get over the grief of losing a child.
Elizabeth Edwards has some amazing insights into grief after losing her son Wade in a car accident in her book Saving Graces (see the following two entries):
http://dibookblogetc.typepad.com/my_weblog/2007/10/saving-graces.html
http://dibookblogetc.typepad.com/my_weblog/2007/10/elizabeth-edwar.html
At her talk at Quail Ridge Books last week, she touched on the subject and it seemed as fresh and painful as it must have been 10 years ago. Her only advice to people helping others grieve is to not let them do anything irrevocable. They can do anything….laugh, cry, scream, punch holes in the walls…but if they start purging photographs or editing out videos of the lost child…gently take that task away from them. Tell them you will take care of it…then put the stuff in your closet or rent a room if you have to…and make sure that stuff is there when they are ready to deal with it.
Grieve and remember…and remember that whatever you do and however you handle it…it’s OK. It’s yours!
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It’s taken me three days to try to read this post in it’s entirety, and I still haven’t gotten through it. But I will, because you had to, and because I truly feel like your memories of your Bug are a gift to us. But I’m gonna cry. A lot.
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It’s taken me three days to try to read this post in it’s entirety, and I still haven’t gotten through it. But I will, because you had to, and because I truly feel like your memories of your Bug are a gift to us. But I’m gonna cry. A lot.
Much love.
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I’m glad to see the sun was shining for you when you visited.
I just passed my “2″…Lord, it never gets easier.
We just learn to walk so it doesn’t hurt as much.
((BIG HUGS, rnm!))
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I am so, so sorry…
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You know I’m sorry girl. And know that I’m bawling, but now happing bawling knowing they’re going to give you some other innocent soul to be in charge of.
xoxoxo
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Whenever I think of this, I hug you in my heart.
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Delurking to say I’m so so sorry. I don’t cry. I just don’t. This made me cry because you’ve done such an awesome job of making Bug real for so many of us. Thank you. God Bless.
Roz
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Weeping here, for you and your family.
Bug may not be in your arms, but he is in your heart.
xo CGF
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Ouch. Everytime you talk about ShaleBug I bawl like a baby. And not just for your loss, but because it could so easily happen to any of us parents at any time; and seriously? I am not as strong as you to handle such a devastating loss.
You amaze me.
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I too cry when you talk about your baby….it really could happen to anyone (just as SleepyNita said). Hang in there. You are doing a great job putting back the pieces of your beautiful family and moving forward.
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I will never stop aching for you, weeping with you, Tanis. And I will never forget your little Bug.
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I am soooooooo sorry. Your blog entry brought me to tears. I can only imagine what you went through and are still going through. You will always be in my thoughts a prayers. I know little bug is looking down on you and smiling.
God Bless,
chrissy
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(((HUGS))) I don’t have the words to convey how sorry I am for your loss.
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I am so, so sorry.
I cannot find the words to express how this post struck me, but my thoughts are with you.
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Two years makes no difference when your heart is broken.
I am so very sorry.
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Reaching out with a virtual hand.
We will always remember Bug with you. And love him too.
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I found you site becase I also call my daughter “Bug”. We apparently both have entitled entries “Happy Birthday, Bug” over time and someone poited out to me that we ‘google’ together. Whatever that means.
I just read this about your lovely boy and your heartache. I wish I had something useful to add. Instead, I just wanted to send a hug, from a complete stranger 3000 clicks away, to let you know you’re *so* not alone.
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You don’t know me, but I found you through Loralee’s Looneytunes. I am so sorry for the loss of your Little Bug. Though I cannot understand your pain completely, you have so lovingly and painfully expressed yourself and your experience here that I cried and cried. It made me ache, knowing that what I was feeling was just a bit of the pain you feel or the pain I would feel if I lost either of my precious Bugs. I am so sorry.
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Redneck Mommy - I’m crying… I can’t even begin to imagine… Bug will looking out for you…. xxx
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Another friend passed along your blog and four hours later…. i feel like I know you. I am so sorry for your loss. I am not sure if hearing/relating to others who’ve gone through similar circumstances helps or hurts but I wanted to share a blog of friend http://comingtolife.blogspot.com/2006/09/farewell-to-my-son.html.
Please ignore it if you find it too painful.
Thanks for sharing your story.
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http://comingtolife.blogspot.com/2006/09/farewell-to-my-son.html
no period at the end.
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I am so sorry. I have no words. Try as I might to come up with something that sounds more comforting, more caring, I just can’t. This is so incredibly sad, so heart-breaking.
Hugs to you and your family. I hope and pray that your pain will get easier to manage in time.
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Like most parents I’m sure you took a lot of pictures. You should get a video Transfer Machine and put your photo albums on VHS then DVD. I feel this is the after life and the only after life. It’s in your hands to give eternal life.
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