I'm sure we all know someone who has died, or is dying. Recently talking with a friend in Brooklyn who lost her son and husband two days apart at the end of January this year, I asked her, how she did it, how she helped her son let go.
Her husband died quickly in an accident so no chance to help him. But with her son, she said, I need to, just be there. We have all heard and said that before. Yet we went deeper to her daily trips to the hospital and still working, always working.
She said he too helped her when he told her, mom go to work. She said she was lucky because her job was split between having to be close in the morning and afternoon, so she could visit him during the day in the Manhattan hospital he was in.
Day by day after blood transfusions, bone marrow transfusions it was decided one more transfusion. He had one already, an umbilical cord from a baby. Now he was about to have another and he was up, alert with new, or renewed hope. He had many visitors, hundreds at a fund raising in Staten Island, and at an MTA Christmas party because he was so loved and thought about.
One day his mom came in and she just sat and waited, talked a little as he waved her over to him. He needed to let go and she needed to let him. He patted his chest for her to put her head on him. He then patted her, whispered how he loved her and his family. Tears fell from her face.
He fell back to sleep and she sat, just being there for him with him and loving him, knowing she had to try to be somewhat strong, but time for him to stop trying to be strong for everyone else. A few days later he had that second transplant, and peacefully left this world as we know it.
Her husband died quickly in an accident so no chance to help him. But with her son, she said, I need to, just be there. We have all heard and said that before. Yet we went deeper to her daily trips to the hospital and still working, always working.
She said he too helped her when he told her, mom go to work. She said she was lucky because her job was split between having to be close in the morning and afternoon, so she could visit him during the day in the Manhattan hospital he was in.
Day by day after blood transfusions, bone marrow transfusions it was decided one more transfusion. He had one already, an umbilical cord from a baby. Now he was about to have another and he was up, alert with new, or renewed hope. He had many visitors, hundreds at a fund raising in Staten Island, and at an MTA Christmas party because he was so loved and thought about.
One day his mom came in and she just sat and waited, talked a little as he waved her over to him. He needed to let go and she needed to let him. He patted his chest for her to put her head on him. He then patted her, whispered how he loved her and his family. Tears fell from her face.
He fell back to sleep and she sat, just being there for him with him and loving him, knowing she had to try to be somewhat strong, but time for him to stop trying to be strong for everyone else. A few days later he had that second transplant, and peacefully left this world as we know it.
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