For more than year now I have wanted to write this post and updated everyone on how we are doing. Realizing that this post will have details about William's final hours with us, I have struggled to find adequate words to express what my heart wants to say.... but here we go....
William's final stay in hospice at City of Hope started on April 17th, 2012. For almost three weeks Randell, my mom and myself stayed by his side making him comfortable, and absorbing the last few precious moments we had with him. May 2nd is/was Randell's birthday. For almost a week leading up to Randell's birthday, we all knew that William was postponing his passing and holding on because he desperately wanted his daddy's birthday to not be clouded by sorrow or to be remembered with tears and hurt.
On the morning of May 2nd, our amazing nurses at City of Hope brought in a few birthday decorations, and a card for Randell. This particular birthday was somber and no one felt like celebrating, but we all knew that William wanted and needed a final celebration filled with laughter and joy. William was on an immense amount of pain medicines and his alertness and conscious level were limited, but we knew he had his moments of clarity and understanding. With brief little smiles, a few mumbles and the occasional flexing of his fingers (we were constantly holding his hands) we knew he had his moments of joy for being able to celebrate his daddy's birthday with him on last time.
Randell and I spent the entire day at William's side. We were constantly holding his hands - only letting go of his precious little fingers when we needed to attend to our personal needs, and even then we made sure that someone else could hold his hand - never leaving him without feeling our physical presence. Randell, my mom, and/or I were always there holding his hands, rubbing his feet and kissing his head..
As our day progressed I read William a few faith based children's books that explained death and heaven in words and stories easily understood by William's age group. I lay on William's small little hospital bed next to him absorbing his smell, feeling face against my lips and rubbing my cheek against his head (that was finally starting to regrow some soft hair). Through silent sobs and breathless whimpers I read words that I could only hope and pray would give my baby some level of peace and comfort. I read words that talked about heaven, and love, and peace, while all along having an immense pain in my heart for the loss that my entire being was experiencing.
At 12:01 am Randell crawled on to the bed next to William and with tears running down his face he told his son "Thank you for my birthday, buddy. Thank you for being my son. My birthday is over now and heaven is waiting. It's okay to go. We are proud of you and we love you so much. There is nothing to be scared off. There are no regrets. Heaven is perfect and once you are there you are going to have a lot of fun" I remember Randell kissing William's head and then William responded with a deep peaceful sigh.
Randell and I attempted to stay awake all night, we knew we only had a few hours left, perhaps even only minutes. We held his hands, both of us being painfully and peacefully aware that this was the end of William's time on earth. Somehow through our early morning struggle to stay awake, we fell asleep. I don't think we were asleep for more than an hour, but within in that hour William found the strength to remove his hand from mine and place it at his side and peacefully go to heaven. I believe William's action of withdrawing his hand from mine was his way of saying, "It's okay to let go mommy and daddy, I am okay and I am not scared. You don't need to hold my hand anymore" Randell and I were both asleep and at peace, before William found his own peace.
So, here we are two years later --- Randell and I are both doing okay. We still hurt, we still cry, but mostly we can look back at the good memories and a share a smile and some laughter. We have grown stronger in our relationship with each other, and our faith in God. For the first few months after William's death I struggled with PTSD and the horror that come with it. I have since found comfort, joy, community and understanding with a group of local moms that have all lost a child. I have also participated in a Grief Share program at our church. Surrounding myself with other's that could relate and understand was important to my healing in being transparent about my fears, hurts, and anger. After William died a large part of my identity was stuck on being a mom and caregiver so it has taken me some time to rediscover who I am as an individual and what my future now looks like. Randell and I have both found our own individual ways to cope with our loss, but together we are finding ways to mourn, remember, and not be stuck in our grief.
I want to ask and remind everyone that even though it has become socially acceptable to say that someone has "lost their battle with cancer" that you refrain from saying that about our Sir. William. Our son fought a brave battle and even though he is in heaven it is important that you know he lived more, accomplished more, touched more hearts, and showed more love than most adults ever do. I ask that none of you ever say that he lost his battle with cancer, because he did not. He won his war against cancer. He never allowed cancer to dictate his level of laughter, his passion for airplanes, his love in others, or his joy of life! William beat cancer because even after everything he endured, he still loved and laughed unconditionally and without reserve. William beat cancer because even though the tumors may have claimed his body, the ugliness of cancer never tainted the essence of who he was and sweet loving warrior he will forever be remembered as.
With grateful hearts -
Lois and Randell.
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