No Answers My Son- Chris Ritchey
Rain drops, cold and opaque plummet to earth only to be blown collectively against my den window. They cause a cataract effect to my eyes that are looking out of my self-imposed prison. My eyes, that search through the veil of liquid grey for the green and blossoms on the branches of trees- newly decked out in life . I search for a path to take me for a brief moment from the cold bleakness that surrounds me.
Pondering life questions has become the main focus of this aging brain in the past months. There are times, when during interludes from grief a quiet and stillness reigns, I think the answers are there -just out of my reach . I can feel them tantalizingly close and then they are gone like quicksilver.
Five months have passed, in mortal time, since I last held your hand , stroked your brow and sang to you.
Yes, I sang – lullabies of your childhood – as the man whom you had become lay quietly dying. I didn’t know in those last hours what else to do .
Your Dad told me that when he was on a vent and paralyzed after his heart surgery he could still hear my voice and knew I was there and it gave him comfort and assurance knowing that I was there and would be fighting for him. He said to me, as we waited in frightened disbelief that last week , our world crumbling about us :
I knew as long as you were there , I knew you would not let anyone give up on me and would fight anyone and anything that got in your way- that you would speak and fight for me .
I wanted YOU to know I wouldn’t leave you alone or ever give up. Nikki and I promised you that Sunday at her home , we would move heaven and earth for you and that we would never leave you alone.
I talked to you until I was hoarse, I was running out of things to say – I wanted you to know you weren’t alone. I know that sometimes I made no sense at all. I kept thinking, he will get off the vent and tell me
“Mum -I just wanted you to shut up”.
I wish I could have heard those words. I would have given anything to hear those words.
I watched your heart rate on the monitor , the only way you could communicate. I watched to see if your heart rate would calm or steady or rise to tell me if I was causing you distress or comfort.
I wish I had the answers. I know the “clinical” answers as to “why” - but the reasoning of this great waste of your life remains elusive.
The veil of cold grey and yet life-giving rain separates me from the blossoms and newness of life , locking me in a world I don’t understand .
“A Greater Plan”???? For me – there is no plan or reason that is good enough or great enough that required the sacrifice of your young life. You died not for your country, freedom or to save another . There is nothing that can convince me that your death by this insidious obscenity of a disease was for a reason!
“Let’s do some living after we die”