More waiting. We met with the BloodCenter of Wisconsin about Owen’s donations/gifts. Filled put all kinds paperwork. Was asked all kinds of family medical questions. (which ironically I found humor in the questions). I’ll be able to hold Owen one last time, without any tubes or wires. I just wish that when I wrap my arms around him, finally, I’ll be able to magically bring him back.
His swelling has gone down and he looks like himself again. My sweet chunky little man. His eyes look like themselves … Still lifeless. He looks like he is sleeping and not so sick. It’s harder now to look like him. I find myself screaming inside to just wake up. Come on Owen, open those eyes, wake up from your long nap.
We took off the EEG things that have cluttered his head. His head was covered in oils and nasties from the glue. The nurse and I washed his head and combed his hair. While as a mom, it was a sigh to finally care for him and clean him, it’s harder to look at him. He’s as I remember him. Peaceful and resting. No longer sick and fighting.
Doug and I have a lot of decisions to make and aren’t really sure where to start. I guess a funeral home is the first step. Then things like what will he wear, what music will we play, photos to put out, verses to read. We should have food and snacks. What car will we drive there, who will watch the babies.
My hope is to have a place to be with him. A park, a path, a bench. Just something that has a plaque. His name, birthday, and death. To continue his story … Even of people don’t know of this blog or what happened on that saturday in may, they will read his name and wonder who he was. Maybe even think of who he might have been, who he could have been.
Like with Owen’s miracle, there will be answers with time. Time for answers. Time for healing and time for peace. Time for crying. Time for anger. To to scream and throw a fit.
My roots are deep in my family, kids and faith. I stand unwavering in the winds of tragedy. My leaves will begin to fall as time wears on. My branches will be bare and small twigs might break off. But as the seasons change and time endures, my leaves will come again. This tree will bloom. Flowers will decorate my branches and my Owen will have a place to perch.
Time. It’s the only part of me that keeps moving without any thought.