Losing a Child: Always Andy's Mom Marcy Larson, MD

I have a confession to make. This is a hard week for me. In three days, we will have to 'celebrate' Andy's 20th birthday. I have been thinking all week about what a 20-year-old Andy would be like. Would he have decided on a career path? Would he be dating a special girl? Would he still show some of his inner silliness? I'm sure that instead of me kissing the top of his head, he would be tall enough to kiss the top of mine. I'd like to think we would be headed out to visit him at college this weekend to make his birthday special.
Of course, I will never know the answers to any of these questions, and I feel that deep, excruciating pain once again. I walked upstairs tonight and tried to imagine for a second that I could go back in time and live my old life with my complete family for just one night. I have cried multiple times every day this week. Very few people at work or in my social circle have any idea that I am struggling. As I facilitated my support groups this week, there were moments when I could not even speak. I had trouble driving in traffic yesterday fearing another accident. All in all, I would describe myself as being a 'hot mess'.
This is why this week's guest, Ann, is like a breath of fresh air for me. Each week, before I release a new podcast, I listen to the episode from beginning to end. Ann was the perfect person to listen to this week. She has a caring spirit that flows out of her. She is open to talking about her struggles after losing her amazing son, Josh, but even in her struggles, she is an encouragement to me. After losing Josh, Ann turned to writing to help her in her grief. Her initial posts were written just for her, but more recently, Ann has posted her writings on her blog, annyarrowblog.wordpress.com. The more she writes, the more others reach out to tell her how much she is helping them in their grief.
By listening to Ann tonight, she reminds me that I am loved by God and many others around me. She shows me I do not have to hide or be ashamed of my feelings. I may still be a 'hot mess', but that is OK. Even when broken, we can all offer love and support to each other.

What is a miracle? Many people have told today's guest, Freddie, that his son, Randy, was a living miracle. Few would have argued that point. Randy was diagnosed with cancer at 4 1/2 years of age. After conventional chemotherapy and radiation failed to treat his tumor, the family was told that Randy had 6 months to live. They turned to NIH studies, but none of those treatments ever made it out of the stage of clinical trials. His grandfather prayed over him and even instructed Freddie to rub a Bible up and down his spine. Randy was cured by these faith healings again and again. The boy who was never expected to see his 5th birthday saw his 15th and even his 25th birthday. Randy was, without a doubt, a living miracle, until one night, he wasn't.
Randy suffered a seizure and his heart stopped. He died that night and his parents were faced with the harsh reality that Randy was no longer their living miracle. Freddie says that their faith was rocked to its core. They trusted that God would continue protecting Randy, but He didn't. It made no sense and left Freddie with a sense of anger. In fact, Freddie is the first to admit that he continues to struggle with anger at times.
Randy's death, however, does not change the fact that Randy is still a miracle. In fact, after my conversation with Freddie today, my very definition of a miracle has changed. After our recording stopped, Freddie challenged me to think of Andy's life as a miracle as well. I had never thought of Andy as being a miracle. I had always focused on the fact that a miracle didn't happen that night when Andy died. If there had been a miracle, Andy would be alive. Freddie showed me that through this podcast, however, Andy has become just as much of a miracle as Randy is. By listening to Andy's story, people get to know him and feel hope and healing as they suffer their greatest tragedy. In some ways, there can be no bigger miracle than that. Thank you, Freddie, for showing me that even in death, our sons are still miracles, and that in sharing their stories, others can get to know our miracle sons just a little bit.

 

When Sandy first contacted me after her son, Blake's death, I never imagined that less than 2 years later she would be sharing his story on the podcast. When Sandy wrote to me, it was only 6 weeks since Blake had died. The pain was palpable throughout her email. Her very last sentence to me read, 'This is the MOST excruciating pain ever!!'
She was filled with anger toward the doctors who failed to diagnose Blake quickly enough and see just how sick he was. Sandy says that she was in a very dark place for over a year. She posted on social media about Blake, finding others to share her pain. She would spend time with Blake's friends on his birthday and other special days, but Sandy stayed in darkness focusing on Blake's death and all that had been lost. In a way, Sandy felt comfortable in the grief. She felt that if she didn't continue to tightly hang on to the grief, she might start to forget Blake. It felt like the best way to honor Blake was to remain in her dark grief.
Amazingly, it was a near-death experience that showed her a new way. Sandy had a long history of diabetes, but after Blake died, she neglected routine doctor's visits and her diabetes went out of control. She was found by a friend unconscious in her home in a coma. She had to be intubated and placed in the ICU with failing organs. Her family was told that Sandy would not survive. Somehow, however, Sandy did survive. Doctors and nurses in the hospital all came to see the 'miracle patient' who should have never lived.
Suddenly, everything changed for Sandy. She realized that for some reason, her life was spared. It was not her time to die. She decided to rededicate her life entirely. Instead of focusing on Blake's death, Sandy worked to focus on his life. She tells his story to anyone who will listen. She talks about his amazing heart and giving nature. She educates others on tissue and organ donation. Sandy decided that for the remainder of her days, she would focus on living in the light and not the darkness. It is not grief that holds her close to Blake. It is her unchanging, amazing love for Blake that continues to keep him close.

Last July 4th weekend, I had the honor of going to a very sacred space with two bereaved moms, Dixie, and today's guest and dear friend, Michelle. We retraced the steps that Michele and her family took on that fateful day on July 4th, 2020 when Michelle lost her amazing 19-year-old son, Corban, who drowned in Lake Michigan. From the first steps walking along that trail, I knew that we were doing something very special. I could feel Corban, Parker, and Andy. I could feel God walking along beside us.
In the first years after Andy died, whenever we dove past the accident site where Andy died, I would feel sick to my stomach. That has never been a struggle for Michelle, however. Perhaps it is due to the beauty of the sand dunes or perhaps the sparkle of Lake Michigan in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore area. Whatever the reason may be, this spot has been dubbed by Michelle as 'Corban's Spot' for she feels his presence close whenever she is there. For me, Corban's Spot feels holier than any cathedral.
Three years ago this week, God gave Michelle another gift at Corban's Spot. She went up to be with Corban for her birthday weekend. While there, she noticed a new large piece of driftwood had washed ashore. Michelle had always looked for hearts in nature to help remind her of Corban, but on this day, God gave Michelle a piece of driftwood that looked to have a cutout heart in the center. Over the last three years, the appearance of the driftwood has changed, but it has remained as an ever-present reminder of her love for Corban. It even inspired Michelle to write a poem.
~Driftwood Heart~
A grieving mother’s heart,
A piece of driftwood on the beach.
Pieces missing, not complete;
Changed but the same.
Rough edges, smoothed by the elements.
Ever changing, never what was.
Created by God, changed by the world.
Searching for a new purpose.
How to fit into this place?
A changed heart, a different world.
A piece of driftwood, looking for its place.
A piece of driftwood, tragically beautiful.
Thank you, Michelle, for helping us see the beauty in tragedy. Thank you for being an inspiration to me and all around you.

Recently, Gwen and I have been starting to struggle to find new topics to discuss on our Livestream episodes. Eric suggested doing an episode about how bereaved people can feel like life is out of control, especially early in grief. After Andy died, I felt like our whole world was spinning out of control. Life was suddenly going really fast and I just wanted things to slow down. The world was no longer a safe place for my family, and everything suddenly felt so scary.
As the podcast episode started this week, however, I asked Eric why he picked this topic. His answer completely surprised me. Eric recently listened to a podcast that had nothing to do with grief. In fact, this is a podcast that normally discusses economics. During the episode, the podcaster made a statement that struck Eric. He said, "You can control absolutely nothing, but you influence everything."
What a statement. That truly changes everything when you think about it. I thought that I had control of my life and my family before the accident, and lost it, but when I think about it, I never really had control in the first place. In some ways, that statement is really scary. We like to think we are in control. We like to think if we prepare enough, nothing bad will happen, but we all know that isn't true. Ultimately, we do not have control, but instead of being a scary thought, it can be freeing instead.
The key is the end of the sentence - we influence everything. Everything that we do in life, every decision that we make, influences what comes afterward. I have often told parents on the podcast who are feeling guilt related to their child's death that they did everything that they could with the information that they had at the time. They worked to influence their child's life positively, but ultimately, they did not have full control. The same can be said for decisions we make now in our grief. Don't work to gain control back because we can't get it anyway. We instead need to work to positively influence others in life, small step by small step, each and every day. This may help make tomorrow a little better than today.

We as grieving people often feel as if we are being judged by others. If I laugh or smile, will people think I am 'over' Andy's death? Will they think I don't care or think about him anymore? If people see me sad and crying, will they think that I should be doing better? Will they judge me and think that I should be able to keep my emotions in check?
However, as much as we fear judgment from other people often we are the ones who are our biggest critics. We feel guilty if we laugh and smile. We feel shame when the tears come and emotions get out of control. When today's guest, Aleasha, talks about her early grief journey after losing her son, Jake, to a rare neurodegenerative disease called Sialic Acid Storage Disease. She says that she assumed that others were judging her in her grief. She felt that they were uncomfortable around her so she shut down and pulled away.
Aleasha shared with her therapist that she was disappointed that more people were not 'there for her' in her grief. Recently, Aleasha had the realization that others did try to walk alongside her, but she pushed them away. She felt like they weren't saying the right thing or doing the right thing, but it didn't matter what her friends said or did because it was never going to be enough. Aleasha wanted to have Jake back and obviously, no one could give her that.
This epiphany has changed Aleasha's outlook completely. It gives us an amazing lesson as well. We need to give grace and not judge ourselves when emotions come. We can feel joy, sorrow, anger, guilt, relief, and a thousand other emotions at the same time. Feeling these emotions is a part of the grief journey and they do not indicate where we are on that journey. We also learn not to project our feelings of judgment onto others. We should not presume to know what others are thinking. Our family and friends love us and want to be there for us. Their first instinct is not to judge. We need to let them show their love and see our true emotions and not be scared of what others might think.