WHAT I LEARNED FROM DANIEL : THE BLOG ~~ Our loving, brilliant, and remarkable,twelve and a half year old son died suddenly, and without clear cause, the day after Thanksgiving, 2008. This blog is a window into how my husband, our children, and I learn what happened to him, and how we survive his passing from Earth. It is also a chronicle of the blessings that envelope us now. How we survive is documented both here in snapshot, and in our book, "What I Learned from Daniel".
Grief is a cyclic phenomenon. I think some expect us to be "all through" processing our loss inside a year or so. Of course, this is ridiculous because unless Daniel is coming back, then life will realistically be a progression of sailing through life's happenings, and periodically being acutely aware of the fact that you are staring yet one more resultant loss in the face. For example, when Stephanie graduated from the university, it was bittersweet. First, because Daniel was not present at least in a manner in which we could see his beautiful face reflect his expressions, and second, because we again realized that we would not see HIS college graduation here on Earth. It seems that even good things may make us acutely aware of our losses, throughout our lifetimes. This doesn't mean we are perpetually saddened, because we aren't. If we give in to being perpetually sad and chronically sorrowful, then we will not have the time or the emotional reserve to celebrate the life of one of the most intelligent,loving and amusing people I have ever known. Life is still for living,
and Daniel, of all people, would be displeased if we used his departure as an excuse not to continue, or not to enjoy our own remaining time here on Earth.
Without Daniel,(and of course my Dad too) I continue in this life with eyes and ears, but with no arms. Yes, you can live without arms, but not half as well as you could have with them. Our ministers tell us, "You will have your arms again in Heaven". Yes, well, without Daniel how do I eat, brush my hair, write, cook, paint, draw, cuddle, and climb ?" Not particularly well I am afraid.
The time between my last blog entry and now has been spent in many different ways. There has been crying and a lot of sadness as the reality of our situation soaks in, like black ink on a white couch. There have been moments of joy as we have contemplated how lucky we are to have had such a remarkable son and to have connected so well with him. There is still confusion and guilt. Although we have been told what likely caused Daniel's death, we still do not have a final death certificate, and we still do not have a written autopsy report. At last discussion with the team, they had sent out some brain slides for independent confirmation on the pathology. Since pineal cyst is a rare cause of death, it appears that they are making doubly sure, from a pathology standpoint, that this indeed a pineal cyst and not some type of brain malignancy or metastasis.
When I think of a cyst, a malignancy or metastasis in the brain of that beautiful boy, I feel sick, and I am riddled with self doubt. How could he function so well, academically and visually with his complex computer graphics with a growth in his brain which grew rapidly enough to kill him ? I don't understand this and it torments me. How could I, a trained former critical care nurse and college instructor not see signs and symptoms that could have led me to have some kind of a brain work up done in time ? I don't understand. I am bewildered and I want to appeal this entire episode to someone. If God can do anything, why can't he return Daniel ?
Did I love Daniel so very much that I missed symptoms that a more objective individual would have detected ? I was off for semester break and with him for two weeks before he died. I remember so many things, but nothing that would have led me to a mad dash to the emergency room. I remember how kind he was with our friends cat. I remember how he explained how he had created a particular game on the computer inspired by the movements Spiderman made in a game we had bought him. I remember his working on the computer until late at night and having to tell him to go to bed. I remember being so proud of him that I told him so. I told him that I was so proud of the young man he is becoming and that it has been a joy and privelege to raise him. The day before he passed when he wanted to spend more time at the Thanksgiving gathering with Adam's fiancee's family showing them what he did on the computer, I told him to save something for the next time. I actually said, "It's not as if you're not going to be coming here a lot more".
I am not the only one grieving. Our daughter Stephanie grieved by bringing two six week old Labrador retriever puppies home, given to her by a friend. She said something about how Daniel would have loved these puppies. I think this is true but they have been quite a bit of work. Stephanie has named them Zelina and Sebastian, and they are quite wonderful.
I am confused. How could my beloved son be gone ? If Heaven is so wonderful, why can't I go now ? If Only I had known something....something sufficient to have taken him to a doctor other than an allergist, in time.
