Our son’s heart stopped beating as he lay in between his father and me.
The entire day is all so blurry.
I watched in horror as my husband used a stethoscope I handed him to confirm that his heart had stopped. I took out our son’s port needle and oxygen tube and scooped him up in my arms.
Then, I screamed.
It’s blurry, but I remember wailing.
Over the next couple of hours, I watched my son’s skin turn pale as all the blood stopped circulating and pooled on the backside of his body.
I felt his body go stiff.
I remember asking his hospice nurse in horror, "is this normal!?"
I had to pick a funeral home. I remember thinking this was crazy; how could I make such a huge decision? How am I supposed to choose a place to care for my son?
I remember smiling. Our loved ones were with us, and we were all in shock, struck with deep grief, but joking? The smiles weren’t natural to me, to any of us. It’s all such a blur.
What the hell just happened?
I held his limp body for hours while we waited for the funeral home.
I walked our son from our bedroom to the living room and realized I was expected to hand over his body to the strangers in my living room.
Strangers who were dressed respectfully and looked at me with deep sadness.
I couldn’t do it.
Instead, I walked Gus to the funeral home van. They had made up a pallet for his tiny body. I laid his body down in the van.
I couldn’t stop crying.
It was raining.
It was dark.
It was such a blur.
A kind police officer asked us if we wanted to escort Gus’ body. He said he’d go as far as he could. Bo and I got in the police car. The rainy blur was now filled with the blue police lights.
I remember thinking that Gus would have thought this was so cool.
Once we got home, I don’t remember anything else, including how long people stayed.
I do remember being alone though. Bo went to lie down in bed, and I couldn’t.
What just happened?
I literally paced our house crying and finally decided I would sleep on the couch.
I slept on the couch for two months.
November 23, 2022, will forever haunt me. It was all so unnatural. Kids aren't supposed to die before their parents. They aren't supposed to suffer the way Gus suffered.
But, let me tell you some ways God showed up.
I’ve only told a couple of people this, but Gus was in between Bo and me for most of the day on the 23rd. We constantly thought he had stopped breathing because his breaths had slowed. Bo fell asleep at one point, woke up, and then I fell asleep. (Our “naps” were about 5-10 minutes long each) I’ll never forget taking one last nap with Gus, his breath blowing on my face. Then, once we were all awake, Bo and I started watching videos of Gus and looking at photos. I put on a 39-second video from September 18, 2022. Bo and I both smiled because Gus was being silly in the video.
Once the video was over, I went to find another one, but Bo had looked down. He saw Gus’s heart beat in his chest for the last time. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Gus went to Heaven during those 39 seconds… Bo and I literally had smiles on our faces because of our silly boy when he went to meet Jesus. Then, almost as a reassurance to us, Gus had a smile on his face after he died.
Unintentionally, I have a picture of Gus about 15 minutes before he died and 30 minutes after. The before picture is painful to look at. You can tell he’s in pain. The after picture is actually peaceful. Gus’ body actually had a smile after he died. Oh, to see what he was seeing. I have no doubt he ran into Heaven, pain free.
I will never understand.
I will never have answers.
I will never have my son back with me earth side.
But, I do have the hope of Heaven.
I get reminders that Gus is with me.
I’m thankful for the six years I had with him.
But oh, how I ache.
Gus, I love you.
To infinity.
-Mommy
"There is no where you could go that I won't be with you"
-Gramma Talla, Moana
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