A Year Gone By
March 22, 2006. A year to the day, and, now, a few hours more, since we let Wes leave. It's a year unlike any I've ever known. Harder, sadder, emptier.
For all the time none of us spent with Wes, yet it mattered then to know he was there, that the potential of being together was there. We don't have that, now. The same kind of day goes by that went by then - not talking with him, not seeing him, but thinking about him, actively or passively, having the world filled out right because he was there, somewhere. Now the day is outwardly empty, just the same as before, but it's the emptiness of a vacuum, the absence of essence, instead of what it used to be - the emptiness of a summer or winter day, filled with the sense of knowing we were all out there, somewhere. It's so empty without him. So completely empty.
Wes would have been astounded to see how his leaving has torn our family even farther apart. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but it was.
We had so little time with him at the hospital. Because of some very unnecessary things, we had much less than we might have. But we did have a long night. Mom and Marina and Mira had come up from L.A. when we found out he was in the hospital. Marina and Mira spent much of the time at Wes's house, listening to his music and trying to find him through where he spent his days. Mom and I and Angela spent much time at the hospital. Mom and I spent the night with him, reading to him, talking to him, watching old movies and shows he enjoyed (Fawlty Towers, Indiana Jones), just sitting with him and wondering how this all could have happened. I spent a lot of time talking to the nurses and doctors of the ICU, and will be forever grateful for all the care and concern they showed someone they had never known and would never talk with. There's a lot I could say, about all that went before and all that was discovered that night, but it wouldn't change where we were, where, most importantly, he was, at that time. We would never hear his voice again, except in memory.
I would never trade that night for anything, but I would give everything for it not to have had to happen.
Mom - I do not think I will ever be able to describe how amazing she was through all that time. She was hurt more than she ever had been in her life (and that is saying quite a bit) but she had more dignity, more love and compassion for everyone around her at that time. She embodied all that was graceful, caring, focussed - a power and glory I thought only existed in movies and the Bible. Her natural inclination was to do anything at all to keep Wes with us, to find some way to make things better. But she focussed on him, what was important and helpful to him, listening carefully, asking critical questions, trying to establish the reality as opposed to what we wanted so badly to be true. Even those who, for whatever unknown reasons, lashed out to hurt her, were gathered into her love and comfort.
I wish I could explain about her pain and sadness and emptiness during that time, and for this year following, but I know I can only understand a small part of it. Wes, wherever he might have been or might be, must be so glad she is his mother. I know I am. In that short time she unselfconsciously displayed all the great soul that we always aspire to, but never reach. In her, it is just the natural state.
Tonight, and indeed for all this year, she has lost so much of the world she knew. I hope she knows how much she meant to Wes, and how much she means to us all. She has spent so much of her time and love and money caring for everyone in her family, and many who were not. Not all of them have returned much of the care, although they gladly took it when it was offered.
For all the time none of us spent with Wes, yet it mattered then to know he was there, that the potential of being together was there. We don't have that, now. The same kind of day goes by that went by then - not talking with him, not seeing him, but thinking about him, actively or passively, having the world filled out right because he was there, somewhere. Now the day is outwardly empty, just the same as before, but it's the emptiness of a vacuum, the absence of essence, instead of what it used to be - the emptiness of a summer or winter day, filled with the sense of knowing we were all out there, somewhere. It's so empty without him. So completely empty.
Wes would have been astounded to see how his leaving has torn our family even farther apart. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but it was.
We had so little time with him at the hospital. Because of some very unnecessary things, we had much less than we might have. But we did have a long night. Mom and Marina and Mira had come up from L.A. when we found out he was in the hospital. Marina and Mira spent much of the time at Wes's house, listening to his music and trying to find him through where he spent his days. Mom and I and Angela spent much time at the hospital. Mom and I spent the night with him, reading to him, talking to him, watching old movies and shows he enjoyed (Fawlty Towers, Indiana Jones), just sitting with him and wondering how this all could have happened. I spent a lot of time talking to the nurses and doctors of the ICU, and will be forever grateful for all the care and concern they showed someone they had never known and would never talk with. There's a lot I could say, about all that went before and all that was discovered that night, but it wouldn't change where we were, where, most importantly, he was, at that time. We would never hear his voice again, except in memory.
I would never trade that night for anything, but I would give everything for it not to have had to happen.
Mom - I do not think I will ever be able to describe how amazing she was through all that time. She was hurt more than she ever had been in her life (and that is saying quite a bit) but she had more dignity, more love and compassion for everyone around her at that time. She embodied all that was graceful, caring, focussed - a power and glory I thought only existed in movies and the Bible. Her natural inclination was to do anything at all to keep Wes with us, to find some way to make things better. But she focussed on him, what was important and helpful to him, listening carefully, asking critical questions, trying to establish the reality as opposed to what we wanted so badly to be true. Even those who, for whatever unknown reasons, lashed out to hurt her, were gathered into her love and comfort.
I wish I could explain about her pain and sadness and emptiness during that time, and for this year following, but I know I can only understand a small part of it. Wes, wherever he might have been or might be, must be so glad she is his mother. I know I am. In that short time she unselfconsciously displayed all the great soul that we always aspire to, but never reach. In her, it is just the natural state.
Tonight, and indeed for all this year, she has lost so much of the world she knew. I hope she knows how much she meant to Wes, and how much she means to us all. She has spent so much of her time and love and money caring for everyone in her family, and many who were not. Not all of them have returned much of the care, although they gladly took it when it was offered.
posted by Rowan | 11:20 PM
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