This story comes from a previous co-worker and friend of mine. Although I did not know her son, I remember the exact moment when the email came through notifying me and the rest of the staff that he had passed away. I cried with a terrible ache in my heart for Maxine knowing she was enduring a kind of pain I had no way of understanding.
That is why her story is here. There are many moms out there who have gone though the unthinkable tragedy of losing an adult child, and I want so desperately to offer you some empathy and encouragement, even if I don’t have the personal experience to do it myself.
I would like to thank Maxine for baring her heart and soul for the benefit and healing of other moms in similar situations. I can tell you from my experience working with her – both before and after her son passed away – that she is often smiling and is one of the most amazing people I have ever met.
Here’s her story …
I will never forget the moment when they placed my baby in my arms on September 3, 1981. My first thought was that baby was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. My second thought was, “Oh no! I don’t know how to do this.” That phrase seems to be my mantra. I didn’t mean that I didn’t know how to care for a baby. I had been a babysitter since I was in 5th grade, and two of my sisters and my brother all had children before I did, so I certainly knew how to care for a child. What I realized in that moment was that I had no idea how to love. How to really love. I had thought I loved people before this, but that baby made me realize I didn’t know the real meaning of love. I started praying right then that God would show me how to love that baby. He did.
My baby, Jonathan, was a wonder. He had a genius IQ, and he was just fun. He also was a trial in many ways, but guess what? I always loved him. Through everything he did, I loved him.
That love was never more apparent to me than in May of 2016. On May 5, his girlfriend texted me that he was sick and the hospital had decided to transfer him to Vanderbilt as his liver was failing. For 10 days I stayed by his bedside and loved him. Oh how I loved him. Growing up, that boy always liked when I would wash his hair. As an adult he would occasionally come over and ask me to wash his hair. I never turned him down. When the nurses in the hospital asked me if I wanted to wash his hair as he lay in the bed in a coma, I never turned them down. Now I realize they did that for me and not for him, and I praise God for such knowing and loving nurses.
In the early days of his hospital stay, they decided they needed to place him in a medicine- induced coma because he wouldn’t stop fighting and he had lost all clotting factors. As they held him in the bed and I stood there, holding his hand, he looked at me and said, “Mom, make them stop.” I smiled at him and told him I loved him. Because I did. That 34-year old man had spent 34 years teaching me how to love. I didn’t realize what I was asking when I asked God to teach me how to love that baby. I didn’t realize the gut-wrenching, indescribable pain there is to watch when your child, the person who taught you to love, dies. I didn’t know how to watch my baby die, but I learned.
My son died on May 15, 2016. “Oh no! I don’t know how to do this!” It came smashing down on my head that I knew how to love. Love I did. I remember standing there in the middle of the hospital, holding my living children, my two daughters and my son, crying my eyes out and loving them and loving their brother.
I praise God that He taught me how to love. I wouldn’t have it any other way. When God decided this world needed my Jonathan, He knew that He was going to place Jonathan on this earth for 34 years, 8 months and 7 days. He knew that Jonathan would need a mom who didn’t have a lot of strength but who had unwavering faith and who would be willing to learn to love and who knew where strength comes from. He chose me. I didn’t know all of those things at the time, but I was willing to learn. Before God knit that baby into my womb, He knew my heart would be crushed when that baby died. He knew I would love that baby until that time. He knew I would be crushed when Jonathan tried drugs. He knew I would love Jonathan anyway. He knew my heart would ache for my son as he raised his two babies by himself. He knew I would love Jonathan anyway. I am now raising those two babies. I don’t know how to do this, but God does.
As I write this, I am crying. I miss my son so very much. When I held him in my arms as he died, I remembered that he held the award for being the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. Those tears though – they are love. I praise God for this heartache that I still have almost three years later and that I know I will have for the remainder of my life. To not have this incredible heartache would mean I didn’t get to love Jonathan as a mother. That just won’t do. So, I welcome the tears and just remember the life of that most incredible son of mine and am forever grateful that he taught me how to love.
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