A Year of Loss and Confusion

 

                         Daniel at 12, Matthew at 32, joined in

                        an artist's fanciful picture of them.

 

                   Fifteen years ago, Daniel died suddenly, the day after Thanksgiving. A year ago, his brother Matthew, 32,  died in his sleep, a couple of days after an influenza vaccine, just a few days before Thanksgiving.  In a sense, grieving for Daniel stopped this year, in its frozen state while we tried to wrap ourselves around a new task, settling the estate of a suddenly lost adult son, and the grief and issues that surround his terrible and unexpected loss.

                   In some ways, the sudden loss of Daniel, and sudden loss of Matthew, years later, are similar. The loss of each son was also very different. The loss of Daniel was the loss of a child. We lost a child so teeming with potential that it was gobsmacking.  He had so many skills and interests and we could not wait to see what he would do with them, and then in an instant, his spark was gone from his flesh suit. We would not be sitting back to enjoy his victories in life. 

                    The loss of Matthew, as an adult of 32, who has achievements,college graduations, good jobs, a network of friends, and who was a partner in the family business wasn't just a personal loss, but a professional one that endangered my husband's business, and leaves its future uncertain. In this year, we worked settling his business matters while simultaneously grieving the absence of another bright spot in our lives.  Having Matthew with him in the business meant that it had expanded, and that there was plenty of work for two of them. When Matthew passed, this meant that more work than could be done by one engineer existed, and that deadlines might not be met. It also meant that the business had expanded beyond its abilities to continue to produce, and that it must now shrink.  My husband threw himself into work, and worked fourteen to sixteen hours most days, in order to deliver on the businesses obligations.

                  I also focused on what could have happened to Matthew. Although vaccines do result in deaths, on occasion, they do not often take adults without a known diagnosis or other health history. I was focused on two autopsies, a VAERS report, and how a simple flu shot could have taken Matthew. There are theories on what may have happened, but they remain just that.  Matthew was a healthy man who died in his sleep. His toxicology was negative, and his eventual death certificate reads "cardiac arrest of indeterminate causes".  They haven't even mentioned his influenza vaccine, and I am told, they never do. Matthew had not received any of the COVID vaccines, and had a mild short course with COVID at its relative beginning.

               And so we continue. We plod along having the Thanksgiving that Daniel and Matthew would expect us to have.  Daniel loved Thanksgiving. He loved the meal and the family gathering, and then our propulsion into the Christmas season. It makes me sad to think that he has missed the last fifteen of them here. Matthew missed last Thanksgiving, and now this one too. He usually contributed a dish or two, and he enjoyed the day off and the gathering with his siblings and their families.   As the business became better established, he was likely on the edge of moving out, although we would have seen him often, because of the business at the very least.

                 There is no choice though.  Both Daniel and Matthew would expect us to be the people we always were when they were here. They would not want us to stop what we are doing, or to be so destroyed by their departure that we did not live our remaining lives, and so we do the best we can.  We take one uncertain step forward after another. Eventually, we will have to deal with the essence of their losses. I miss each of their thoughts on situations, politics, and what they wished to do in the future. I miss their friends being part of our lives as they were. I miss seeing the futures that each of them would have had.  Happy Thanksgiving to each of you and to your families, regardless of your circumstances this year.

    (Lettering size was increased for those of you who read this blog from a cellular phone.)