That Last Goodbye - April 21, 2011

I attended a support group recently, specific to parents, grandparents and adult siblings who have suffered the death of a child of any age. I was taken aback by the number of attendees and though I didn't count, my very conservative estimate would be around 50.

They began the meeting by having everyone introduce themself and provide some information about their child. Among all those present there was only one couple whose child, a woman about Pete's age, married with 3 young children of her own, was also a cancer victim. Most of the children were adults or young adults, but their deaths were sudden and unanticipated - the result of traffic or other accidents, suicides, drug overdoses, and heart attack.

We all lost a child, one couple lost two, so we all shared that common grief, but, with the exception of the parents of that young woman who battled breast cancer for 4 long years, there was a huge difference. Dare I say that that couple and I were the "fortunate" ones who had time to prepare for our child's death? That we were given the opportunity to say our final good-byes, to tell our child how much they were loved and to hear them say that they loved us? To be with our child and hold and comfort them as they left this world? To know that we were doing all we could do to make the transition as peaceful and loving as possible? And, yes, to accept death and even welcome it because it released our child from the pain and misery that cancer inflicts.

I cry because I miss Pete. But I cannot imagine the horror and devastation all those other parents had to endure when they received the shocking news that their child was gone, the fear that their child may have suffered unimaginable pain, the anguish of never having had the opportunity to say that last goodbye, to exchange that last "I love you".