March 19, 2009

Reflection: The World Doesn't Stop

What was your perception of time in the days after your loss? Did it seem to you that time slowed down or almost stopped? How did that feel? Did you have a moment in time when i t seemed that the world was moving on without you? How did that feel? What did you do or say?

Time did some funny things for me in those first hours and days after Evan died. The whole morning still runs in slow motion for me when I think about it. We knew that Evan's condition/non-responsiveness was serious but we didn't understand how serious. He seemed to be burning up with a fever. I called my parents to watch the boys while Tymon and I took Evan to the hospital. My voice rings in my ears now as I remember my father's concern on the other end of the line. I think he asked if we'd called an ambulance. We hadn't and my parents lived about a mile away. I said to him something like, "just come quickly, it's not like he's going to die or anything."

From there, events happened in slow motion for a while. The ER doctors kept saying that things weren't looking good. I didn't know what that meant. Certainly, my boy would pull through. He was in serious condition, there was no doubt about that. But certainly, he'd respond to their efforts to help him. I didn't understand that they were doing all the breathing and heart pumping for him. When they stopped, time stood still. We didn't know what to do. We started doing what "needed" to be done. Tymon called his brother who works with him. His brother told Tymon's supervisor. I called my family. I called my friend who was planning on watching the boys that day while I went to work. And we waited. We took some pictures. We held Evan's body. We cried. We talked about how to tell the boys. One by one, our family arrived over the next couple of hours. We talked to the coroner's office and the police from our town. I passed off my payroll submission responsibilities to my brother. On the way home my Relief Society president called me. She thought she'd leave us a message and didn't realize she'd called my cell phone. She was surprised when I answered, "hello" and then I couldn't speak another word. I didn't answer the phone again for a few days.

I sat at my computer and went through photos. I started making a photo book for Evan. I'd thought about doing one over the years but always wanted to wait for the next child to be born. When we have a baby in '03, '05, '06, '07 and '08, you can see how this would get pushed off. I didn't want a book that didn't have all the members of my family in it. Now I have one of Evan's life.

I posted on this blog. I posted something on Facebook. I don't remember whose status it was but someone posted about studying for a test and someone else was having a party and in my mind I'm shouting, "Don't you know what just happened here? My son died!" How could these people just carry on as if nothing happened? Unbelievable. We're talking to the coroner and detectives are in our home and we don't know when/how we'll get Evan's body back nor do we know anything about burials or plots of land or embalming or anything and these "friends" of mine are posting about normal every day things. Our lives had stopped. When we were driving to the county records office to submit the death and burial records, the thought crossed my mind that no one else driving in their cars near us that day had any idea what we were doing.

Time is definitely a funny thing. I remember details of that morning like it were yesterday, yet next Monday marks 6 months since Evan died. It seems like a long time and again like hardly any time has passed. I look at other children about 15-16 months of age and think of Evan. He stands still in my mind. He is actually almost 2 years old and it's hard for me to picture that. I see those photos of Elliott that I previously just posted about and it's wild for me to think that that is how big Evan would be now. Those are the kinds of stunts he'd be pulling if he were here.


I think about Evan and miss him everyday. I miss his unconditional love. I miss him crawling into our bed in the morning and sitting on my head. I miss his hugs and big smiles. I miss his self reliant and can-do attitude. As Jocelyn begins making more and more noises, I remember the babblings of Evan. I miss his sweet voice. I just want time to be on my side again.

13 Riveting COMMENTS:

  1. I wish I could turn back the clock for you.

    We all forget in our busy lives to stop and cherish the small things and to burn the memories into our minds.

    (((hugs)))

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  2. I read your posts about Evan and feel so much inside, mainly breaking, for you and Tymon and for those who will never know him and be affected by his wonderfulness. After reading I wonder if I should leave a comment or not, worrying that I'll say something stupid or insensitive. But I can't go without saying that your loss is so real, it is so big, and if it comforts you to know that someone else took a moment to think about Evan and his wonderfulness today, know that I did.

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  3. Thank you both for your thoughts. They mean a lot to me and give me courage to work through the grief.

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  4. I really appreciate your ability to be so open with your thoughts and feelings. I can imagine that it would be so easy to shut yourself off from the world after something so personally devastating. I don't know if this means anything, but on the days where I am really frustrated with Reid, or I am a little too hard on him, my thoughts always seem to turn to Evan and that I would surely bee more patient and loving if I knew he only had a short amount of time left.
    Also, thank you for your fun comment about Nate. He had a lot of fun telling me about the good old days in Bellingham!

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  5. I am so sorry Bridget. Life really is a funny thing, so fleeting and yet at times seems to drag on. I really hope I wasn't one of those friends who wrote about something trivial during your pain. I remember feeling an ounce of what you felt when 9/11 hit. I had to grocery shop and was in a terrible/sad mood and saw others carrying on like nothing had happened. Unbelievable. I have to say I was so proud of you for how you've carried on. You seem to have been so strong for the rest of your children and I KNOW Evan would be happy about that. You are continually in our family's prayers.

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  6. I just wanted you to know I think about you all the time and wonder how you're doing. Katie and I love you!

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  7. I'm sorry, I only have my brother's to relate to what you may be feeling. And so I don't want you to think that by me talking about my experience that I think I "know" what it's like to lose a child. Time is funny. It's 15 yrs this year for both of my brothers. I have dreams of them often. I wonder what they would look like now, especially since Facbook makes it so easy for me to see what their friends look like. Two to three months after they died are a blur, but the day they died, I remember every thought and word and look that day. It always is in slow motion. But I also remember talking to a friend who, at the time, had lost her sister 3yrs before. I can remember thinking, what's your problem? It's been 3 yrs, stop being so emotional, it's only been a few days for me. Little did I know that my family and I would still be grieving in our own little way 15 years later. I broke down a sobbed just 2 days ago. Time makes the sharp shooting pain a little more dull, but that doesn't mean it will ever stop hurting. Try to stay strong. But then have days when your not. Hugs from me, too.

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  8. I loved that last line you said. "I wish time were on my side again." Cool line. It makes me stop and think how I am using my time right now. Am I ungrateful? Do I take anyone for granted? This life is so much slower than what Heavenly Father knows. The D&C says that all things are present to him. What would that be like? Does he still see his son suffering in Gethsemane and at the same time sees us? Does that bring him comfort or pain to have the ability to relive all of that again and again. Mind-boggling, eh?

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  9. Bridget, thank you for the kind Kinder offer. I was just feeling a little frustrated last week when I posted about the eggs. Silly really.

    Thanks for sharing your story on this recent post. I am sorry to hear about your sweet boy. I often wonder some of the same things that you do when you see other children Evan's age. My son would have just turned 9 months, and it is crazy to think he would be so active by now.

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  10. I just wanted to tell you that I check your blog often to see how you are doing. (I'm the McCall, Idaho person that comes up on the feedback.) I just had stumbled on your blog from reading others. Anyhow, we don't know each other, but I think of you and pray for you. You are a wonderful and amazing person.

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  11. Bridget,

    I read your blog every once in a while and commend you for it. You are capturing so many memeories for your family. I wish I had the time to do this. Maybe I should start! I am so sorry for your loss, and even though I never met Evan he has made an impact on my life. I look at my kids so different now, I cherish and embrace the stress that they can be sometimes. I rejoice at the annoying things they do knowing that they are kids and how much I would miss them doing it if they were gone. Evan has taught me to me hold my kids more and longer. To not take for granted any moment I have them. So in his short little time on this earth he has impacted people more than you know. I think of him often and he reminds me to love more, listen more and not take anything for granted.

    Hugs to you Bridget!

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