For Every Dark Night . . . A Mother's Journey through Grief and Trauma

It’s so strange the way life plays out. My darling son, Mike, came into this world five weeks early and was hooked up to life support, with gauze-bandaged eyes, and he left it the same way twenty-two years later. He left us much too early – again teetering for a short time between life and death. Once again, I sat at his side holding him and loving him as his body gasped for air. Again he laid on his back on life support. One look into his beautiful brown eye on that August night told my heart he was gone. And this time it would be forever. I would never see his wonderful smile again. The pain was unbearable, unimaginable. His leaving left a hole in my heart and the hearts of so many of his family and friends that was indescribable. Maybe he had seen the white light and knew that’s where he would find peace. Maybe he knew this was his time. Somehow, on another level, I think we all know when it’s our time to go. Mike left us a little before noon on Saturday. They let me stay with him for what seemed too short a time, but it was maybe an hour or two, holding him, touching him, kissing him. My son, my child, my beautiful Mikie. How could I let him go? Why did they make me finally leave? How could I go on never to be with Mike again, never to touch his face, never to see his smile, never to feel his hugs, never to hear his laugh? His pain was over. Mine was just beginning.