The Birthday and those between- Chris Ritchey
This anniversary week , of what used to be love and celebration, has arrived and with it gulping pain. Gulping, because I hold my breath to stop the tears from burning my eyes, blinding me , trying to breathe and all that happens is I gulp for air as the tears flow unabated.
Chris, the day of your birth , as you left me to start a life of your own also found tears , tears of happiness , I gulped and tried to breathe as the contractions became intense , waves of pain then too, but at the end of the pain insurmountable joy. My son, you my beautiful baby boy, put into my arms for the first time.
There were wonderful birthdays that followed but I hadn’t been able to remember them because of your last birthday . Your first and then your last birthday and remembered pain
Once again in a hospital , but I was not surrounded by those that loved me, just clinical cold and vacuous clowns.
My whole being was fraught with worry that morning , my insides were shaking and sick with fear, what would they find? My son going under a surgeon’s knife – cutting into your neck to see if the obscenity of the curable cancer had once again beaten the ” treatment”.. I just wanted to go somewhere quiet away from chatter with my thoughts. I didn’t want to be polite. I just wanted peace.
They coffee clutched the time away with their frivolous discussions of fashions, cake , birthdays and celebrations seemingly without thought of how this would affect those that did truly love you ). If there ever was a time where I heard my own grandmother’s voice it was then ” Remember Loraine, breeding will out”
I wanted to scream and shake them as the grandmother decided it would be a good time for a betting game- we were all supposed to pick a time from the time your name came on the big board informing us you were now in the operating room as to how long it would take for you to be under the knife and the time of the surgery .
“Angela, (Ritchey now Murphy http://my.clevelandclinic.org/staff_directory/staff_display.aspx?DoctorID=16147 ) it isn’t fair though you can’t be part of this as being a doctor you would know the answer – giggle, giggle, giggle” Lisa what do you say? Frank? 45 minutes, 55? an hour?
and so it went.
Nikki had excused herself and I was left alone with them. I ignored the game as best I could and tried to ignore them, all the while wishing they were somewhere else – anywhere but there, but the puerile woman would not shut up –
Come on Loraine you must have a guess, join in – otherwise you won’t win! Angela , do we have time to go to the cafeteria – Loraine isn’t it your birthday too in a couple of days – it is Chris’ today isn’t it – will you have a party, what kind of cake, will your mother be baking one or two?
Shut Up! are you all so damned insensitive you can’t see your imbecilic diatribe is ripping me apart, I don’t care about your nonsensical games , I am in torment that my son will die- can’t you see our pain you stupid,selfish people?
So I haven’t even been given the gift of remembering HAPPY birthday, as the gift I received that last birthday was the gift of death.
Surrounded by the clowns of control who carried on their narcissistic thinking and behaviors until the day you died and beyond.
And yet, this week I did receive a gift of you. I don’t know why , then again maybe I do ,but a video tape ( yes a VHS tape) fell out of a bag in the garage, your father, curious, picked it up. None of us can remember how or why the tapes were in the garage of all places – the basement- I could see but why they were in the garage that sits at the end of the garden separate , full of tools and junk is beyond me.
The tape, was of your sister dancing at an event when she was 21. Your dad brought in the bag of VHS tapes and started to play them. There you were, once again, your childhood played out in the pool, on the soccer field , rowing boats , Christmas morning, skiing laughing and loving with us .
I could only watch a little bit at a time as it too caused pain that is indescribable but it affirmed to me the gift of ” her thoughts”- that Nikki and I wouldn’t like) I received from your bride Angela Marie Lombardi Ritchey Murphy ( now remarried )
you know the “healer” – the words –
“I think your intense love for Chris shielded you from getting to know who he completely was.
and not forgetting how Dr. Angela ( Ritchey) Murphy wrote 4 months after Chris’s death writing to tell me
my son although he would defend me even when I didn’t deserve it – would put me in my place-
Angela’s gift of compassion??? so thoughtfully given…..
Yes, as painful as it was to look at my son enjoying his life with his family before those cretans of control and the insidious crew of cruelty and self entered our lives- watching what I could bear to watch of those tapes only reminded me that
I knew my son and he loved us and his place was with us and still should be .
My gift to you , Chris is my heart, the truth, and your story, the book I promised to write for you !
and the hope that one day I will be able to look upon your face ……
Entry filed under: a Cow -elle opinion, Chris Ritchey, death, grief, Love, men of substance, Mothers, weddings and funerals. Tags: Angela (Lombardi) Ritchey Murphy, Angela Lombardi Ritchey Murphy Westlake, Angela Marie Lombardi Ritchey Murphy, Angela Murphy Fairview Hospital, Angela Murphy Westlake, Angela Ritchey MURPHY DO Cleveland Clinic, Chris Ritchey, Christopher D. Ritchey, christopher ritchey lorain, Drs. Angela and Chris Murphy, grief, hodgkins lymphoma, mothers and sons, obscenity of cancer, ritchey, Tim and Sue Lombardi Lorain, Vykas.