It’s now 6 months since our dear son, Jason, went to be with the Lord. I’ve been writing about once a month, because that’s about all the strength I can muster. Half a year is a long time to be without a son that you had, but it’s also a short time in terms of for how much longer to feel the pain.
I have had several thoughts during these past 6 months. I have thought about Jason and how he came to be, the journey of pregnancy, his birth, and what a joy it was to have him for those 10.5 months. I have thought about the purpose that God had for him, and whether it was fulfilled within that short time. I have wondered about the cause of his death, and why we had to be without him as a family.
How many children do you have?
I have battled questions from people about how many children I have. I wonder whether to say I have two children – a girl and a boy, and have to explain; or whether to say 1 girl, and let the matter rest, and spare myself the heartache of re-living the pain – and at the same time deny the existence of my son. Sometimes people will probe why after 8 years we have only 1 (visible) child. If they haven’t been in my life, I don’t see why I should explain to them. It’s personal. And it’s okay to have 1 child if that’s what we wanted, but the way it is, it’s just so hard to explain to strangers/new friends why things are the way they are.
How did Jason die, what happened?
One of the hardest questions to answer is how he died. I’ve only been able to share that with close friends, or the people who visited our home in January and after that, caring about us during that period. For the rest, I prefer to send them to this website to get information – but knowing full well that the full information is not there.
It is becoming increasingly harder to explain to many people what happened, so I’ve decided to just put it down here, once and for all, to make it easier for me, for us. I don’t have to break down every time someone gets to know about it. And I also don’t have to put people in awkward situations, wondering what to do with the information – do they show sympathy, do they hug me, do they say sorry, do they cry – because I’ve seen all those kinds of responses.
So I’m putting it here, so that you can read at your convenience and privacy, so that you can have the freedom to respond to it as you naturally will, without feeling the pressure of needing to act a ‘certain way’. It’s also good for me to not have to bring it up so often – and I’m grateful for those caring souls I keep meeting – and feeling the pain afresh every time.
So, for the good of all of us, and to the memory of our son and brother, here’s the story of how he died, how Jesus took him.
Jason. You asked about him. He was fine, fine, fine. Save for a slight fever for which he was taking medication, he was okay. He went to sleep well. Then we woke up around 5 a.m. and he was having difficulty breathing. We rushed him to hospital and he spent quite some time in the Emergency Room. They gave him all sorts of medication and performed many procedures on him. Wednesday, 7th March, 2015.
Then he went for a CT scan, and then was taken to the ICU. We observed him every moment of that day…save for when the doctors needed to do something in our absence. His organs started failing – his heart, his lungs. He had been convulsing, and loosing blood. He bled, my little boy bled so much it had to be sanctioned.
In the night, he started having problems sustaining his heartbeat. The doctors did all they could, we watched them….up to the very last minute, 2:04 a.m., Thursday, 8th January, 2015. And that’s when our world crashed; our little boy went to be with Jesus. I felt like he was telling me that he was in better hands. He looked so peaceful, my child, he did.
And I held him and hugged him and kissed him and loved him all I could…till we had to take him away. He was prepared for the cold morgue as we watched, and I carried him there and placed him on that oh, so cold tray. We kept going back to see him.
Before we moved his body from Gertrude’s Children’s Hospital to Thika, we showed Hetal, our 4 year old girl. It had been hard to tell her about it at 5 a.m., and it was …there are no words to explain how it was, showing her her brother’s body, cold and still. I held him in my arms as we took him/his body to Thika, cuddled and kissed him. My heart was torn. Once again I put him on the cold tray…. We went to visit him a couple of times before putting him to rest a week later, on the 15th of January.
It was excruciatingly painful….still is. We all loved him and miss him dearly. We’re trying to adjust to his absence and nothing makes sense. We all want to be with Him. We want Jesus to come soon, now even. And reunite us all. The emptiness does not go away. The pain does not decrease. The stillness still exists, even while all around us keeps moving.
Our little boy is gone. We just want to be with him. God’s grace is sustaining us during this period, and we are holding on to him with all we’ve got.
That’s all I can pull myself together to write for now.
Thanks for caring.