“We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today.” – Stacia Tauscher
My wonderful sister, who I have discussed before, who has had years of struggle with sobriety and lived with my mother, and has a terrific son, my nephew, Drew. When my mother was ill and could no longer go to her home and stayed with me, my sister and her son were left to care for her home and her animals on their own. Drew was 13, a tough age. Lynn would stop by everyday on her way home from work and stay for a long time. Essentially leaving Drew to fend for himself. Repeatedly I reminded her she had a son to think of and care for. Repeatedly I reminded her he needed to come and see Grandi. It went unheeded. Drew never saw his Grandi again. It broke my heart as I knew that it was not a proper way for him to grieve and be a part of the process, like my children were. Grandi was an integral part of his entire life. It was heart wrenching.
On top of that, we learned his father, Andy, had cancer. Andy was a great “friend Dad” to Drew. They spent time at the beach, crabbing, playing games and hanging out. They were close. We liked him very much being in Drew’s life as much as he was. Lynn and Andy, though they separated when Drew was an infant, never got divorced. It was just too much trouble for either of them to figure out. It was OK. So we learned Andy had throat cancer AFTER he had been treated and AFTER he was in “remission”. We were shocked. How is it he didn’t think we should know? He had disappeared for awhile, and only called Drew, but he had done that before, so we didn’t think much about it. Then shortly after our mother died, Lynn learned that Andy was out of remission and there was to be no more treatment, he was dying. She was a mess. All I could think about was Drew. He lost his Grandi and now his Dad was dying.
Drew (13) & Lynn 2001
Lynn was asked to bring Drew over to his house by the family. She did. She left him there while she went to work, with his other grandmother and Aunt. She called me from work to tell me that it was really bad. Andy looked horrible. His cancer was growing outside of his body, he couldn’t speak and he had lost so much weight it was hard to look at him. Drew was scared, she said. Inside, I was livid. I said, “Should I go over there?” She thought that might be a good idea. I dropped everything and drove over. I walked into a very solemn environment. Few lights on, everyone sitting around. Andy emaciated on the couch. I bent down to kiss him. He lived in a tiny home. As far away as was physically possible, was Drew. Standing against the wall. If he could have disappeared into the wall he would have. A few moments later he was gone and I heard soft whimpers. I excused myself and found him in the bathroom quietly sobbing.
I hugged him, held him, and just cried with him.
When I went back out I inquired about a few things and then his Aunt told me they were taking Andy over to the Hospice Center. Perhaps it would be best if Drew went home with me and once they got Andy settled in, I could bring him over tomorrow. PERFECT! I could do that. We left.
In the car, Drew, who was never one of many words, asked me if it was like that with Grandi. I said, “Well, yes and no. Grandi lost weight too, but her cancer was growing inside her body, not outside. So it wasn’t quite so disfiguring and hard to look at.” I said, “Drew, would you like me to tell you what your job is?” He nodded. “Your job is no longer helping your Dad to live. Your job is helping your Dad to die. To make it as comfortable and easy for him as possible. Do you understand?” He nodded. I said, “Do you know why his friends aren’t around?” He shook is head, no. “Well when someone is dying and they are disfigured like your Dad, people are scared. They don’t know what to say or do. And your Dad doesn’t really want anyone to see him that way either. It can be a very lonely.” He nodded.
The following morning as I was driving him over I said, “So. Here is what YOU can do to let your Dad know that it’s OK, that you love him, no matter what… He can’t speak so he can’t tell you how he feels about you, but you know he loves you right? So he needs to know, somehow, that you will be alright. You need to let him know you are going to be OK and that he doesn’t need to hang on for you. And you also can let him know how you feel about him by how CLOSE you are to him, physically. So if you can hold his hand and it doesn’t bother him, you should do that. If he can’t have you do that, then just lay your hand near his, touching. This will let him know you are not afraid and that you love him dearly.” I asked, “Do you understand?” He said, “Yes, Aunt Lori.”
We went in, no one else was there from the family. I approached Andy and kissed his forehead. Drew pulled up a chair right next to the bed and sat down, took his father’s hand and said, “Hey Dad.” Andy looked at him, it was emotional, he squeezed Drew’s hand. I left them alone and went to sit in the lounge area. A few minutes later Drew came out and said, “Aunt Lori? I think Dad is uncomfortable. I think he’s in pain.” I said, “Ok, let’s find his nurse and tell her.” We did, and I introduced Drew to the nurse as Andy’s son and had Drew express his concerns to her. She immediately accepted Drew as Andy’s advocate, pulled up his chart and said, “Let’s go take care of it Drew” and off they went together. I went back to sit down. Then Drew came out again and said he thought his Dad might be thirsty. So I went in and showed him how to prepare his water with a straw and how to hold it for his Dad. If his Dad couldn’t suck up the water, how to pull it up into the straw with his finger like when he was little kid goofing around. I watched as Drew took care of his Dad, with confidence, and left again.
The family showed up, we spoke briefly and again I waited outside. His Aunt came out and asked me if I thought Drew would want to stay the night with his Dad, as she didn’t think he was going to make much past the next morning. I said let’s ask him. We called him out and his Aunt presented the information to him and without hesitation he said emphatically, “I want to stay.” He never really liked his other Aunt much and so I was very pleased, as was she, that he clearly understood it wasn’t about them anymore.
I hugged him goodbye and told him how proud I was of him, that he could call me anytime, no matter what time it was, for anything.
The following morning I received a call from his Aunt that Andy had passed away and she thought Drew might like to leave now. She went on to tell me that he had been amazing! He had cared for his Dad all night long and whenever his Dad needed to be moved, only Drew was able to do it without Andy grimacing. The nurses were impressed and she was impressed. I mentioned it Drew in the car on the way home and he smiled broadly, “Yeah, I was able to take care of it better than anyone.”
We were lucky. Drew was able, with support and direction, to rise to the occasion of this important moment in his life and that of his father’s. I believed in him, with a little guidance he could handle it, and I’m proud beyond words. BUT, it shouldn’t have happened that way. He should have been involved all along with his Dad’s deteriorating health. They could have had so much more before he couldn’t talk and tell his son how much he loved him. Drew wouldn’t have been so horrified at the sight of him. I could be really angry about it all, really angry. And I had my less than lady like thoughts. I had to let it go. Drew holds his head high, now nine years later, as well he should. It was a tough situation to be thrust into. But he was there for his Dad.
This is a very personal illustration, a story if you will, on one reason why I believe it is so important to include your children in these difficult times. It’s better to bring them along gently, gradiently, then to bring them in only at the end or have no opportunity at all. Poor Drew experienced both in a very short period of time. He never saw his Grandi again and he was brought in only 24+ hours prior to his father’s death. It just seems to create new problems and obstacles that could be a lifetime of emotional recovery. And while you might say, well, 11, 13, that’s different. I don’t agree. I believe that kids will rise to the occasion and expectation, and have memories or impressions of events such as these. An infant or toddler, perhaps you are right. But if they have cognizant thought and conversation, however limited it may seem, I believe they should be included, perhaps less involved the younger they are, but not excluded.
Drew had a couple of tough years after that, losing his paternal grandfather, his maternal grandmother who raised him, and then his Dad, who he adored, all in a matter of months. But I am happy to report he is living at our grandparent’s farm back east, working, and learning how to raise beef cattle. He is a delightful, balanced young man and I’m very proud of him on so many fronts.
