Simon's Death
We are in the final stretch of #simonsgiftoftime bereavementcampaign 2018 and we are about $1,400 short of our revised goal for a second
bereavement cradle. I am urged to share
(again) publicly Simon’s death in an effort to remind friends and family why
these bereavement cradles are important.
While we were able to bring Simon home, so many families leave the
hospital with empty arms. Would you
consider donating to serve the bereaved family?
Tonight, we will celebrate Simon’s fourth homegoing
anniversary. We’ll probably watch his
celebration of life video and talk about what it was like to usher our son into
the Kingdom. Adam’s been fasting all
week so we are looking forward to having a very late meal at 10:17pm – chicken tetrazzini
and a glass of champagne.
In a world where death is hardly spoken about - though it
happens to all of us, I feel compelled to share (again) some intimate moments
of Simon's life and death with hopes we each walk more closely with one another
when experiencing grief and the death of a loved one. So many have run
toward us and supported us and I am so thankful for this. I encourage you
to do this for others - even when you don't know what to say, say nothing and
just be there when death occurs.
I easily recall the weight of his tiny body in my arms - this
feeling is something that will forever be a part of me. I remember his
scent well. Adam and I changed every diaper together. While we
changed his diaper, we swabbed his mouth and often cleaned his eyes to with a warm
washcloth. We would check his feeding tube for air bubbles and warm is milk for
a feeding tube meal. Adam and I were awake for about eight days straight.
We caught naps here and there (thanks to our moms!) but for the most
part, we were awake not wanting to miss a moment of Simon's life. The
evenings and nights were our favorite time with Simon. Around 8:30/9pm,
I'd go to our bedroom and try to catch a few hours of sleep while Adam and
Simon had alone time. This time seemed precious to Adam. Simon,
like many newborns, had his days and night flipped up-side-down. He was
awake from 10pm-2am most nights and he was alert! Adam discovered he
loved lights and they spent time standing underneath our overhead lights
swaying back-and-forth while Simon enjoyed the light. Around 1:30am I
would take my shift which would typically last the rest of the night into the
morning. I slept mostly straight up and down holding Simon at an angle in
my arms with a mountain of pillows surrounding us. I'd drift off to sleep
and often startle awake to see if he had died in my arms. For some
reason, I thought he would die when all three of us had drifted off to sleep in
our bed. I was okay with that. But that’s not how Simon left
us.
God gave us exactly seven days plus twenty-two minutes to soak
Simon in with our eyes, to love him deeply and to send him home. On his
one week birthday we sang "Happy Birthday" to him – me barely able to
get the words out of my mouth knowing he was fading right before my eyes – he died
22 minutes later. We read scripture over him. After we sang to him,
my mom, who was at our house spending the night, decided to go to the kitchen
to do dishes so we could be alone with Simon. I'm unsure how she knew,
but she encouraged us to stay downstairs while she cleaned up the kitchen.
We were going to go upstairs and get ready for bed with Simon, but
decided to stay put on our couch. Around 10:15pm, we could tell the end
of Simon’s life was coming – I yelled, “go ahead and go, Simon” and
"please take him God" while Adam coached his son one last time
saying, “Simon, if you see Jesus, reach for him, grab him.” Adam held him
for his very last breath which was quiet and peaceful – and in one big swoop,
the room was still and we knew Simon was gone. Agnus Dei played which was completely
fitting, given that Agnus Dei means lamb of God - Simon was sweet and innocent
just like a lamb, and now he was meeting the true Lamb. The song continued to
play and Simon was indeed gone from this earth. Adam fell to his knees over
Simon and wept. I’ve never seen my husband collapse like this before and
I am certain I never want to see it again. We prayed over Simon and took
his sweet, sweet body up to our room to change him into a special outfit we had
chosen to have him cremated in. It looked very similar to the one he wore
nearly daily. We changed him, reswaddled him and placed him in his
bassinet to sleep for the night. We knew we simply needed to be with
Simon for a little while longer - we needed time to let his death become final
and real. Adam and I didn’t talk much about our plan – we just laid him
down in his bed for a final rest in our home. We slept and actually slept
pretty hard because we had not slept in over a week. I awoke, cried and
remember wishing I had spent another sleepless night holding Simon. I
walked across our bedroom to look at our boy, honestly, I was a little worried
about what my eyes might see. I saw nothing but Simon's body knowing he
was in full glory. I’m thankful we kept him overnight. It was so
important to see his body fully fade before calling hospice and our funeral director.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I needed to know that he was truly gone
from this earth prior to letting his body go – something that the Bereavement
Cradles we fundraise for provide for families. Teddy woke up and I recall
both Adam and me walking into his room that morning. Teddy moved forward,
business as usual, as he should. It actually felt pretty good to have
something feel normal on a day that was so uncharted. Oh what happiness you
bring to us, Teddy. Thank you my sweet boy.
After breakfast we called hospice to let them know we had said
goodbye to Simon the night before and that we were ready for them to come to
our house. They arrived around 11am or so. I rubbed Simon's lotion
on his forehead and then kissed his sweet head. I hate death. Adam
carried him out of our bedroom, down our staircase and out of our front door.
Adam has said many times this was the hardest thing he’s ever done in his
life. With me by his side, Adam walked Simon out of our front door on May
22 around 11:30am to say our final goodbye - I now prefer to think of it as a
"see you soon!" Simon was swaddled with a little KU sock
monkey, which was a gift from his grandma Mimi. There was a gentleman
with a puffy red beard and dark sunglasses in a white van who was taking our
son. He assured us he would take care of Simon. I can remember just
wanting to scream at the top of my lungs – NOOOOO! He can't go with you and be
alone in that van! Give him back! He’s mine! But, I didn’t.
Although I think I had every right to. The man pulled away with our son
and drove off. We stood with empty arms and hearts - completely and
utterly out-of-this-world wrecked.
God was with us every step of the way through Simon’s life and
especially the days following. He continues to be. We are not
forgotten. I felt his Holy presence many times during and after Simon’s
life. Through the still of the room after Simon was gone. Through
Teddy waking on May 22 conducting a business as usual sort of day.
Through the mere fact that my knees didn’t buckle and I completely lose it in
front of our house on May 22 saying goodbye to Simon’s earthly body.
Through Teddy swinging and playing with his dump truck in the backyard after we
reentered our home with empty arms. And through the wind as it wrapped
around my shoulders whispering God’s goodness and through both scripture and my
mind reminding me, it will be okay, you will see him again.
Death where is your sting (1 Cor 15:55-57)? Well, I
promise you, death does sting and hurts like hell and will continue to likely
for the rest of my life. But the sting won't last because of Christs'
great sacrifice for you and for me. Jesus is victorious over death - we can be
too. I cling tight to the hope and promise of Heaven where one day all things
will be made new and set right by our Creator. Until then, we do our best
on this earth to experience heaven here.
Hello my darling, Simon. What are you doing today?
What beauty do you see? Hold tight to Thomas as we wait to be reunited.
I long to see you, feel you, and smell you again! Until we place
eyes on each other again, Simon. I love you. ~Mommy
Adam, I tell you that you are my hero and I am not kidding.
You are. Thank you for bravely holding and ushering our son into
Jesus' arms straight from your arms. I was really scared to do that and I am
thankful you had the honor. I brought him in, you ushered him out.
How beautiful. How complete.
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