4 years

Four year ago today, we woke up early to check on Derek. It had become routine. We would check to see if he was doing alright, roll him to one side or the other, see if he needed anything, and make sure he was as comfortable as possible. The doctors had warned us about potential seizures. However, besides the smalls one he had that initially brought us to the ER, until the night before Derek died, he never had any. But that last night he had two, one small and one large. After a while we were able to stabilize the large one and he was able to sleep. Just to make sure he was comfortable, we woke up early in the morning at 3:00 to give him some pain meds. Then at 4:15 we rolled him on his right side.

But this morning was different. His eyes were locked wide open. It was obvious he had not blinked for quite some time. Angela immediately got some ointment and gooped it on his eyes. I specifically remember her gooping it on. She did not want him to be in any pain. But something was different. His breathing was shallow, really shallow. His heart was beating, but not with the normal rhythm. More of a steady thump thump thump. Something was very different.

According to the clock downstairs, four years ago today at 7:15 in the morning, I heard Derek give up his last breath. I quickly placed my ear on his chest, I felt his heart stop beating. With wide open, goop filled eyes and his cross firmly clutched in his hand, that was it.

Only a few seconds prior to that moment, Angela had gone upstairs to help Kate get ready for her dance. It all happened so fast. I had to quickly call her back down. There was a sense of relief. There was a sense of closure. There was a sense of emptiness. There was a sense of helplessness. There was a sense of “he is not our responsibility anymore”. There was a sense of deep sadness. There was a sense of happiness. There was a sense of Heavenly jealously. Derek had completed his journey.

I often think about this morning. Just me typing this out required me to stop a few times and clear the tears from my eyes. Recalling this morning, even four years later, brings back the same emotions.

After I had a moment to clear my head, and many subsequent times since, it had occurred to me that it was possible that Derek really had departed earlier in the morning or maybe late the night before. I had the distinct feeling that morning that he was not there anymore. Instead, it felt like his body was just winding down. Four years on and I still feel that way.

Derek was in his eighth year of life when he passed away. Today marks the fourth year since he left his earthly body. Four years carries a little more significance because it marks the half-way point. Derek has been gone about half the time he was alive. It just seems strange to think of that. I understand that time will march on and at some point he was be dead longer than he was alive. But for some reason this milestone hits hard.

I think back to the equivalent four years from when he was born and it is a very different scenario. A blond hair, spunky, full of life, smiley four year old boy running around the house without a care in the world. He spent those early years loving his mom and enjoying playing with this best friend, his younger sister. Quite the opposite picture of four years ago today. Four years ago today, he still had his blond hair and he still would smile whenever he could gather the energy, but now confined to a bed needing help to simply roll over. But there was a different spark to his life, a more eternal spark.

Four years is a long time for me to reflect. I find I ask myself questions. One question I asked myself recently was what would be one of Derek’s strengths. My answer, Derek was a great communicator. He had the natural ability to effectively talk to anyone. He could effortlessly talk with people of all ages and education levels. He was great with people younger than he was, or much older, or just kids the same age. One of his best friends was a 94 year-old lady from church. I remember one time we were at a friend’s wedding and we were sitting at a table with random people. Derek struck up a conversation with a gentleman sitting next to us. They must have talked for 20+ minutes. The next week, I get a call from the groom and he asked me if Derek talked to a guy at his wedding. And I said yes he did. The guy Derek spoke to, who ended up being a physician, went out of his way to call my friend and tell him about the wonderful conversation he had with a little boy at his wedding. I could give example after example of similar experiences. He was a master of meeting people where they were and connecting effortlessly. It was really cool to watch.

I often find my mind wondering about what I could have done different. How I could have I handled things better? So many what ifs. And recently, one of those times I was lost in thought, it occurred to me that I never recall Derek expressing fear of death. Derek was not simply facing the potential for death, nor the possibility of contracting something from someone that might make him sick, but he had to face the very likelihood of not seeing his next birthday. I cannot imagine the potential fear that a child might have by the idea of being forcefully removed from his only known source of security, his parents, with no prospect of them helping him beyond a point. I could only bring him so far then he was on his own. I could see that being a very scary situation for any child. For that matter, many adults too. Yet despite this, to the best of my knowledge, he only expressed concern about dying one time.

It was early on, maybe January or February. He expressed to Angela that he did not want to die. And who would fault him for that? But I would have loved to be part of that conversation because whatever wisdom Angela passed on to him, it gave him confidence all the way to the end. No anxiety. No fear. A little 8-year-old boy staring death right in the face and having no fear. Actually, quite the opposite, he was confident that he knew where he was going. I believe he was given assurances. And with those assurances there was no need for fear. Just imagine, you are a little boy and death has no power over you. That was Derek. It made things so peaceful. I would have it no other way. I wish everyone could face death, real or perceived, with as much fearlessness as Derek. If I could give that gift to everyone, that is something I would do. Because the fear of death can be life numbing to so many people. He had a rock solid faith in Jesus. I believe God allowed Derek to see why he had no reason to fear. I have good reason to believe this too.

Although in an ideal world, the situation would have been reversed, I learned a lot from him. Primarily, I am not going to live forever. Pretending otherwise is foolishness. Derek taught me the sooner I can come to terms with the inevitable, the sooner I can move forward with living. Angela and I had the privilege to watch Derek come into this world and he brought nothing with him. He lived 8 short years and then we watched Derek leave this world and he took nothing with him. The more I contemplate this, the more I wonder why this world values what it does.

I may not be looking forward to whatever pain might be involved with death, but the idea of death is no longer something that I worry about. Why fear the inevitable? It is liberating.

One thing is for sure, if I had known Derek was only going to live until he was 8 years old, I would have spent far less time dealing with the superfluous things in life. So many rules, so many laws so much nonsense that is unnecessary for a successful life. I think, without knowing it, Derek packed a lot of love into 8 years. So many smiles, so much kindness, so many hugs, so much selflessness. I guess that is what happens when the fear of death has no grip on you. Now, it was not that Derek lived life recklessly. There was no jumping in front of buses. Quite the opposite. Despite being sick, Derek did not want to isolate himself. Derek saw living life and having friendships with people very valuable. He wanted people to be around him. But then the end came too quick. We were told with his type of cancer that we typically could expect about 2 more years. We got 9 months.

Now that Derek has passed away, I noticed things that I would never have paid attention to before. I notice that when people get older they like to give stuff away. Only holding on to things that have real value. It obviously has to do with a sense of “you cannot take it with you so why keep it” kind of idea. I am sure this happens to people at different time in their lives. But Derek did not have much to give away. His material possessions were very little. And on his hospice bed, all he wanted was his cross and to have his family and friends by him. He did not want to watch TV, or to play any video games, he just wanted someone to read him a book and maybe listen to some music or maybe just listen to someone talk. I am sure I did a lot of talking, but I wish I would have read to him more. I am thankful that we had a steady stream of people who were willing to come and visit Derek. I know he really appreciated everyone who came to see him.

Well, that is all for now.

Thanks for reading

God bless