The Rest of 2010 Without Aaron

Grieving the loss of anyone's death is hard.  Emotions from the past can flare up, rendering the griever unable to function at any any given moment.  It doesn't have to be on the anniversary date, the birthday, a holiday or a significant event.  It can be visiting a special destination, driving by a favorite place, smelling something that brings back favorite memories or even seeing something that snaps you back in time with the person who loves you who is now gone.

Our family has had experiences of all sorts.  Some have seen Aaron in other people and initiated conversations with him to be told that he is okay.  I have seen people that look like him and I watch them from afar while my heart quickens.  These experiences are a bit unnerving but just the same they bring peace and comfort.

Aaron died 2-3 weeks before his High School Graduation.  One of my nephews graduated from middle school 4 weeks after Aaron died.  My niece had to give a report on the D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) program right after Aaron died.  It was so important for us to pull together as a family but most of all it was important for ME to let everyone be and grieve and act the way they needed to in order to get through this very hurtful time that none of us had ever experienced.

Having eyes like Jesus is looking past outward behavior and into the heart of the one who is struggling with emotions that are deep and confusing and scary and sad.  As the aunt to the young ones in my life, I felt it was I who needed to show them Jesus' eyes and hands and heart and love.  I know what it's like to receive all of that from Him over and over again.  Now it's time to give it away.

Aaron's Dad and Stepmom put together a memorial site that September 6, 2010 for his 19th birthday.  It included some pictures, his favorite colors of bright green and black, a special cross, Aaron's urn, a picture of he and his brothers with their great grandmother, a gift from his 4-H club and a stained glass piece from his Uncle Bill for his love of music.  

Aaron's urn & his last picture taken the week
before his death and at Christmas 2009

What do you do afterward?  My sister decorated a round table and every holiday it changes.  All of us have contributed something and sometimes I'll add something new.  

You have to remember when Christmas shopping instead of shopping for 9 it's now 8.  You have your first family Christmas picture without him.  You shed tears at your first family tradition of Santa and Mrs. Claus visiting on Christmas Eve.  You cry a little bit when Mrs.Claus hugs you and shares they were not sure what they'd be walking into with the death of Aaron.  They've been part of our lives for many years and had gotten to know each of the kids (and us) pretty well. Their presence that evening was such a blessing because their smiles, laughter and uplifting singing brought the love of Jesus into our grieving world.

That year ended but it did not stop the pain and grief from tumbling out in weird moments.  

Each year since Aaron died, my sister calls the Administrator of each school to tell them about Aaron's death so that if her daughter(s) is having a difficult day or is teary, they know why and my sister can pick her/them up to come home.  It doesn't matter what the date is on the calendar but especially on the anniversary of his death and his birthday.

Aaron's death changed all of us in some way.  

That's what happens when someone you love dies - 

The Days After Aaron's Death

Preparations were being made for his wake and funeral.  Those would take place the following week at the same time.  Aaron would be in a casket for viewing then he'd be cremated.

The more I thought about it the more I wanted my car to make a statement about his death and I wanted that statement made at the funeral home.  I bought window markers and wrote these messages all over my car:

    

My nephew wanted to spray paint art on a canvas so I took him to get what he needed.  My nieces made posters with pictures of Aaron and of them together.  My littlest niece drew pictures of she and Aaron.  Everyone had their own way of expressing their grief.  All of them were on display at the funeral home either on a tripod or on a table for visitors to see.

Before visitors began arriving, I went up to Aaron's casket.  I was surprised to see the two pins (the angel and the cross), one on each lapel.  I think it was his mom who came up to me and I said, "The pins - they're on his shirt."  "Yeah, someone put those on him at the hospital so we decided to put them on him."  I was quiet and said, "It was me.  I gave them to him when I baptized him."  She asked, "Oh, Amy, do you want those back?"  I replied, "No, not at all.  It's just a surprise to see them, that's all."

I realized the finality of saying good-bye to Aaron was coming up fast.  Those pins were going to be cremated with him, mixed in his ashes and a part of his earthly body forever.  I knew his soul was already in Heaven - that the Aaron I knew had been gone for many days.  Still, seeing him in that casket, is still vivid in my memory.  Lots of roses.

Aaron's funeral and wake had visitors from everywhere.  It was like being at the hospital again with all the students waiting in line to see him in the ICCU.  When his dad and my sister needed a break from the receiving line, myself and one of his uncles stepped in.  Again, lots of students crying, needing hugs.  We were overwhelmed by the number of people who were there.  A little while later we were told 550+ people were there and lines were out the door.

When it was time for his eulogy, his favorite song, "Fireflies" by Owl City, played and you could hear the song being softly sung by almost everyone there.  Someone recorded the eulogy and it's evident these kids loved Aaron.

Aaron's life touched many when he was alive.  I'm not sure he knew that.
Maybe if he did he wouldn't have taken such a high risk as huffing.

But then again, who among us thinks we'll be missed as much as we really will.

I know I don't.

5 Years

Morning came.
It was somber.  It was sad.
It was very sad.

All of us said our good-byes.
Aaron was taken away so we waited.
We were told the organs had to be harvested in a certain time frame which meant Aaron had to pass away by a certain time.
So, we waited.

And then the strangest news came from his doctor - Aaron didn't die.
He was supposed to die because of all the trauma to his brain.
His breathing should have stopped on it's own, having been disconnected from the ventilator.
But Aaron had a very strong heart.
Or, God had another plan.

Early in the afternoon, Aaron was brought back up to his room.
He was breathing on his own, his heart was beating strong.
There was no false hope that he was going to wake up.
It was a matter of time before he died.

I was sitting with Aaron's mom when she stood up to leave.
She asked, "Amy, will you stay with Aaron today and come get me when it happens?"
I couldn't believe she trusted me with her son's final moments.
"Yes," I said, without hesitation.

I stood watch over Aaron like a knight guarding a castle.
I watched the nurses check on him and asked questions.
I was able to answer questions his mom and dad asked.
Family members felt better knowing I was in there keeping watch over him.

Hours passed by and nothing changed.  It got to be around 10:00 p.m.
I thought to myself, "Why is he still here?  What's holding him here?"
Then I remembered something.  He hasn't had a bath today.
This young guy likes to be clean and he hasn't had a bath.
I went to the nurse's station and asked if they could give Aaron a bath.
Yes, they sure could.

I sat in a chair at the foot of the bed (not watching, of course).  Just as the nurse was finishing up I asked, "Is one of the signs, of him passing away, his blood pressure dropping like that?"  "Yes."   "Should I go get his family?"  "Yes."

I quickly scooted out to the waiting room just as his mom and dad were about to get into the elevator.  I said, "It's time."  Aaron's mom looked at me and I waved she and Aaron's dad toward me and said, "C'mon, now, it's time."

As they hurried she said, "Family only."
I stayed in the waiting room and she said, "Amy, you're with me."
Aaron's dad, his oldest brother, his aunt and uncle, myself, his mom and his other aunt and uncle surrounded his bed.  His other family members and girlfriend were either in the waiting room or too exhausted so they went home earlier.

We watched the monitor as Aaron's blood pressure slowly went down.
Those of us in that room watched his life transition peacefully and quietly.
And when that machine made the sound that broke the silence,
I knew our loved one was in the arms of the One who brought him home.

And the bath?
Well, let's just say, I still think Aaron got the last laugh.

4 Years and 364 Days

There's not much to write on this day because it was the day final decisions were made.

Aaron's mom and dad met with the doctor.  All tests had been performed.  All measurements had been taken.  Every possible contingency had been considered.

There was no hope of any kind.

Aaron was brain dead.  He was blind, deaf, paralyzed from the neck down and in a permanent vegetative state.  He would never open his eyes, never walk, never talk, never have any motor skills at all.  His brain damage was severe and it was permanent without correction.

After the news, all visitors were restricted to family only.  No more students.  No more friends.  No more Alateen.

Just us.

We now had Aaron all to ourselves.
We had time to say our good-byes privately without interruption.
When one of us came out of his room with tears, no explanation was needed.
We are a family.

Later in the day, Aaron's mom and dad told us what was going to happen tomorrow.
They decided Aaron's organs would be donated - that's something Aaron would want.
Mid-morning he would be disconnected from the ventilator and brought down.
When the organs were harvested he'd be brought back up here before being brought to the funeral home.
If people wanted to be here in the morning, that was okay.

Everyone went home that night knowing in less than 12 hours Aaron would be gone.

But Aaron had another plan.

4 Years and 363 Days

I remember this day's details very well.  It was Wednesday.  Aaron's mom and dad were meeting with the doctor about his brain injury.  The severity, whether or not he'd ever have quality of life and what options did they need to consider.  It was that day when final decisions were starting to be made.

Downstairs, the hospital gave a large room to a group of Alateens that were close friends with Aaron and his brothers.  They attended a large conference every year that allowed long distance friendships to form quickly.  When this group heard about Aaron they jumped into a car and drove a long stretch of hours to be here.  Not only did they support their friends but they also brought lots of supplies for making t-shirts with Aaron's picture on them.

I started recovery in Alateen in September of 1981 and I attended that same conference soon after.  I know how important it is to have people you meet instantly extend a hand and a hug with no strings attached.  At age 42 I felt a connection to these kids.  I knew I needed to be among them, their energy, their laughter of memories with Aaron and their artistic talents.  I needed to express my own artistic love for Aaron by making my own t-shirt.  So I did.

As a Christian, I was receiving promptings from the Holy Spirit.  Before I came to the hospital that day I was prompted to pick up two pins - an angel and a cross.  The whispers I was hearing concerned Aaron being saved and baptized.

I'd been spending time alone with him, watching him lay there without an expression on his face.  We used small green sponges to put into the water and on his lips to keep them moist.  There really wasn't anything we could do for him.

Aunt Amy and Aaron

I sensed a moment to go into his room.  I had the pins in my hand and I walked slowly to the far side of his bed where his head was resting.  His eyes were closed, the ventilator was breathing for him, the heart monitor showed he was alive and his blood pressure and heartbeat were strong.  As I looked down at my nephew, who I knew was not coming home with us, I stroked his hair with my hand and said, "Hey Aaron.  It's Aunt Amy.  Do you remember the day we had Easter together and all of us were telling you about our relationship with Jesus?  How if you asked Him to forgive your sins you'd be forgiven and you'd be in Heaven forever?  Well, Aaron, I don't know if you ever made that decision but time is going to run out.  So I'm here to ask you...Aaron, would you like Jesus to forgive your sin and be in Heaven forever?"

And then, what I can only describe as a miracle, happened.  A tear rolled down Aaron's right cheek.  I took that as a sign of him saying, "Yes."  And for a moment, I felt tender.  So we prayed for him to receive Christ.  I held the cross to his hand with mine.

Aaron

Then I balanced the cross on his precious hand so he could hold it himself. I pinned it to his gown and along with it, an angel to his pillow. Afterwards, I wet my finger and baptized him by making the symbol of the cross on his forehead. Then I kissed him and reminded him of the streets of gold, the angels welcoming him and how we'd see each other again one day. I reminded him how much I love him and how much I was going to miss him. 
It was a very tender moment.

Wednesday?
Yeah.
I'll never forget that day.

4 Years and 362 Days

I'd already been on disability for almost two years so being at the hospital was easy to do.  By "easy to do" I mean I didn't have a job interfering with my deep desire to be with Aaron and my family.  By no means do I want to mislead anyone into thinking getting up in the morning and getting myself ready to be at the hospital all day and late into the evening was easy to do.

My mom drove down from her home in the Northwoods of Wisconsin, my nephew and niece's dad drove up from Chicago and the family and close friends took up the entire waiting room.  It was becoming a very busy place to be.

Word spread throughout Aaron's high school on this day about what happened.  The response from the students was an enormous outpouring of solidarity, friendship and love.  They created a Facebook page where people could post prayers for him.  Friends that had trucks lined them up on the school lawn that ran up against a main thoroughfare.  Those students used window markers and wrote messages like, "Pray for Aaron," "Prayers for Aaron," and other messages I can't remember.  The students fully expected Aaron to pull through.

And why not?

At their age, they are fearless and invincible.  Setbacks happen but you're given another chance.   Close calls happen but you recover and move on.  A lot of people inhale chemicals.  Surely, whatever people were saying about Aaron, wasn't as bad as they said it was.

And that's when some of the saddest moments of Aaron's tragedy brought me to tears.  That's when the elevators to the ICCU started opening with groups of students, Aaron's friends.  As soon as the elevator doors opened, you could see they expected Aaron to be up and talking, pulling a prank like he so often did.  They were not prepared emotionally for what they were about to see.

Pretty soon there was a line of students waiting to see him.  Then ICCU learned there were so many students that wanted to come upstairs that they formed a line downstairs and brought in a chaplain.  I remember at some point being up near the front of the line when the students were coming out of Aaron's room, comforting students with a hug or whatever they needed.  Many of them who could talk said, "I had no idea it was so bad."

Sometimes, knowing how bad it is, breaks the fantasy of how we want it to be.

Finish This Story

Sometimes, when writing is emotional and/or hard, it's good to have one that takes you another place.

From The Writer's Circle on Facebook

.....one evening, the torch of fire he always carried, was a little closer to his face. The bright orange glow that lit up his face revealed his true identity. We were stunned at first but then we knew. Even though we did not know what he did, his secret had to be kept to preserve the wonder it. I moved around a little bit because I was getting stiff and several sticks cracked beneath my feet. He looked in my direction with the torch held high and I froze. He did not call out to see if anyone was here. I watched him as he turned around, slowly walking back into the thicket on the wooded island. The torch of fire was disappearing. I think I understand this man better from this encounter than all the previous ones combined. Sometimes, you need a safe place where no one is going to make fun of you for being different. Sometimes, you need to live or visit a place where you are surrounded by God's creation where you can look at water, forests, mountains, trees and animals.  Sometimes, when you want to look at the world but not be in the world, you light a torch at the same time in the early evening and take a peek through the eyes of those looking back at you.  I think that when his inner tank is full and when his spirit is at peace, he's able to return to what he does - whatever that may be.

4 Years and 361 Days

It's 5 Days until 5 Years

It doesn't seem that long ago but I guess a lot of people in my family feel the same way.  There's hearing on the other end of your phone, "Amy, you have to get to NIMC right away."

NIMC is the hospital we all knew as Northern Illinois Medical Center in McHenry.  They'd changed over to Centegra years ago but if you were a true resident of McHenry or neighboring towns it was always going to be NIMC.  Just like Macy's on State Street in Chicago would always be remembered as Marshall Field's, Willis Tower will always be called Sears Tower, Allstate Arena would be called Rosemont Horizon and US Cellular Field would be Comiskey Park.

No matter what the name of the hospital was something serious was wrong with Aaron.  I could hear it in my mom's voice.  Aaron comes from a large family.  As you may already know I'm not a fan of large groups of people.  I remember parking my car close to the ER entrance.  I sat and prayed, asking God to prepare me for whatever was going to happen.  I also asked Him to let me be a source of comfort for my family and anyone else who needed it.  I took a deep breath, got out of my car and headed for that large door where the unknown awaited.

I immediately felt a lot of tension.  Not because people were not getting along but because the dire circumstances of Aaron's condition were weighing so heavily on everyone.  I had yet to find out what happened.  Here's what I was told:

Aaron was cruising around with a couple of buddies who were riding in the front seat.  They were on their way to an ALATEEN MEETING.   While Aaron was in the back seat, he decided to huff propane from a camping size container that looks like this:

TO LEARN ABOUT INHALANT ABUSE CLICK HERE

We learned later from Aaron's friends that this was not his first time.  In fact, he had been huffing for a long time.  None of his friends ever told his family because they did not see the danger in it.  They, too, huffed inhalants and nothing ever happened to them.

While in the back of the car all of a sudden Aaron began to have convulsions and seizures.  The driver pulled off the road immediately to call a buddy then he called 911.  Aaron's body stopped moving and he stopped breathing.  The boys administered CPR until the paramedics arrived.  By this time, Aaron's heart had stopped beating and his brain had been without oxygen for 10 minutes.  With their machines, Aaron's heart began to beat again and they rushed him to NIMC.

As a Christian, the Bible says God knows everything about me:  PSALM 139

I don't have to worry about anything.  And yet I wonder about those 10 minutes when Aaron died.  When we die, in my Christian belief, our spirit goes one of two ways:  Heaven or Hell.
But if the body comes back to "life", then what?

I was asked if I wanted to have some time alone with Aaron.  I said, "Yes."  I walked back to where he was laying.  He was so still.  Eight days prior we celebrated Easter together.  All of us shared with Aaron what Jesus meant to us.  Nothing preachy - straight from our hearts.  Even little Alicia told her story about Jesus living in her heart.  I saw Aaron listening and asking questions.  You could tell he was pondering what we were sharing with him.

And now, here he was.  My precious 18 year old nephew in a physical state I could not wrap my mind around.  For some reason, God has given me this weird ability to discern with my hands how to pray for someone.  I might get woken up at night or be prompted when I see them.  This time, I was prompted to put my right hand on his forehead and my left hand over his heart.  I closed my eyes and stayed like that for a little while.  Do you know what I felt?

Nothing.  Aaron was gone.  There was no brain activity and there was nothing inside of him that was him.  He wasn't there even though his body was there.  I kissed him on the forehead, told him I loved him then went out into the waiting room.  I talked to my sisters who wanted to know what I thought.  It hurt me to say it but I told my sister who is Aaron's Stepmom that I didn't feel anything - that I think he's gone.  She said she thought so, too.

Before Aaron was moved to a private room in ICCU, everyone gathered around Aaron to say a prayer.  When they asked if anyone would like to pray, I raised my hand.  I prayed for his comfort and for the family going through this hard time.  I prayed for Aaron to get better but if he didn't that we would all.....and I was cut off by a lady who was intoxicated.  It's hard to prepare people when others are in such a state of denial that it does more damage than good.

I stayed in the waiting room with my family including my sister's daughters who were exhausted.  We snuggled up and said prayers for Aaron.  When Aaron was in his room and my sister and brother-in-law returned, it was time to go home.  My nephews had already left.

And so began a five day journey none of us wanted to travel.