Losing a Child
Life is a procession of events. Our physical rhythm is tied to events such as sleeping and eating and we naturally try to avoid pain and seek pleasure. I have found most of my life has been just this, without much thought about why I even exist or matter.
On April 8, 2010 a normal day was unfolding for me. I was living the day as I had so many others with a procession of expected events. This changed when my son, Alex, called from his apartment near the college campus he was attending. He asked if I would pick him up and bring him home because he had a bad case of the flu and didn’t want to drive.
When I picked him up at 1:30 he seemed slow and lethargic. I had brought his chocolate lab, Raleigh, with me, as she always brought him a smile, but not so on this occasion. I remember commenting his breath was very bad, and him apologizing. He had the chills and said his head and back hurt. When we arrived home at 2 p.m. he just wanted to lie down and get warm. I brought him blankets and gave him some water and Tylenol. He seemed bothered by the light, so I drew the shades. Raleigh also bothered him, so I thought I would let him rest so took her for a 20-minute walk, to wear her down. Upon my return I discovered Alex had tried every bed in the house and he said he just couldn’t get comfortable.
For the first time I was becoming concerned that this was more than the flu, perhaps the swine flu, which was a big deal the year before. Around 3 p.m. he said that perhaps he should go to the hospital, as he vomited the water and Tylenol and was becoming dehydrated. I don’t know what transpired in the next hour, but I still thought he would get better through rest and perhaps a different type of drink. At 4 p.m. I called our health maintenance organization to get permission to take him to emergency. A message was left then, around 5 p.m. Alex’s mom, Mari, came home from work. I then went to the grocery store to pick up some Thera-Flu medicine, Jell-O and more sport drinks. Upon my return the nurse had called and said to take him to the hospital.
Once at the hospital Alex walked in and told his mom he was afraid. He never said he was afraid of anything before, so this was concerning. The front reception in the emergency room took his blood pressure and said it was 70 over 30 and stated something must be was wrong with his machine. Alex was then put into a room and a nurse came and attached him to an intravenous drip to hydrate.
A doctor came to visit Alex after about 30 minutes and said they would be taking a few tests, such as a chest X-ray and a blood draw. She thought H1N1 was a possibility, but likely that he was very dehydrated. Time elapsed and the staff began to show concerns that his blood pressure was not improving and that he was not passing water. Time continued its march; at 10 p.m. he developed a visible rash like appearance in his arms and legs, which we were told was a telltale sign of bacterial meningitis. This “rash” caused panic from the staff and major movement began – a spinal tap, preparing a place in intensive care and the calling in of specialists. All this time Alex was trying to keep his humor and grace, but became visibly confused and, at one point, began taking off all of the tubes and monitors and asked his mom to take him home. Stupidly, I had made a run home to feed the dogs and make sure the stove wasn’t left on, so missed this panic by our son.
None of us, Alex, Mari or I, had any idea of the severity of the situation. It wasn’t until about midnight when a hospital Chaplin approached us with a physician and told us he may not survive.
Friends of ours, both doctors, came to the hospital and watched and explained what was transpiring. It was the worst experience a parent could have. Alex’s blood pressure became nonexistent and at 3 p.m. he was pronounced dead. Our beautiful, perfectly healthy son died within hours of walking into the hospital.
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Why did I tell this story? It is simply because too many parents take their children for granted, that they will not outlive their children. I certainly did. I now must tell others that I have two children, one on earth and the other is in heaven. It pains me, to try to find acceptance to the loss of my son. Right now I am very thankful for the 20 years I had with him. Teaching him to ride a bike, to drive, to play chess and to find humor in all situations gives me warmth, but not to see him graduate from college, get married, have his own children leaves me empty.
I would say to all of you, keep your children in your lives; be there for them, because they are a gift, not to be taken for granted. I know. As parents, we matter to our children, but know they also the matter to us – having a son or a daughter is a journey of both the physical and spiritual. With a love that is deeper than any, I now know love transcends life, but that life is precious, grab it with both hands and never let go.
In an interview that will be published in June I was asked, "What do you feel is the most important thing a father can provide for his child?" 
parents to 13-year-old Michael and 9-year-old Haley. Joel rose from the ashes so to speak . . . after spending part of his childhood in foster care and being homeless for a short period of time, Joel demonstrated a tremendous commitment to getting his life in order and eventually married and became the kind of dad his step son and biological daughter need him to be. Joel broke a negative cycle and has replaced it with powerful presence of courage, nurturance, and hope. 
Everything was wrong. The antiseptic smells, the bedside table, the pull around curtain and the pajamas. I had never seen my grandfather in pajamas. I had never seen him so thin and so helpless. He was always the strong one with big hands, a big smile and a high-pitched laugh. There in the assisted living facility not only was he out of his environment but he wanted to rid himself of life itself. He was being redefined in ways he couldn’t fathom or believe. 
My favorite scene in the Steve Martin version of the film,