Today marks the end of a difficult week. Wednesday was the five-month anniversary of Tyler’s death, but Monday was much, much tougher. Monday was the day Tyler would have entered 11th grade at Chapelgate Academy. One of the things that most troubled Tyler as his illness dragged on throughout last school year was missing 10th grade with his classmates.
For Tyler, attending school had always been a necessary evil so that he could spend time with his friends. Although extremely bright, he barely tolerated the required learning and the homework. He only really looked forward to the fellowship he had with his classmates. Over the years, I heard from many a teacher that Tyler was talking when he was supposed to be listening. So, when Tyler found out he’d be 6 months in the hospital receiving his treatment, his primary concern was being without his friends and possibly being left behind for the following school year.
He chose to get in-hospital tutoring to stay at grade level. This left Tyler with the dreaded learning and homework, but none of the socialization. It caused him a great deal of stress. His dad and I often reminded Tyler he didn’t have to put himself through the ordeal and that he could repeat the 10th grade next year, but he was determined.
He sat through tutoring when he was nauseated, in pain, and exhausted. He despised it. Yet, true to his personality, Tyler was always polite, respectful and interactive with his tutors, and they grew as enamored with him as others inevitably did. When I learned in February that Tyler had completed enough requirements to start Chapelgate this school year as an 11th grader, he was already in PICU and heavily sedated. I hope he heard me as I told him not only was he done with tutoring, but that he’d be back at Chapelgate as an 11th grader.
Except this past Monday, Tyler wasn’t at Chapelgate. He was somewhere much, much better, and I did my best to convince myself it didn’t matter anymore from Tyler’s perspective. That was indisputably true, but just left me feeling bleak with my own heartbreak. I still wanted him here, I wanted to be carpooling with Tyler and Nick each morning, I wanted to laugh at all the funny stories regarding the school day he’d tell me.
My grief isn’t so much about being sad on Tyler’s behalf, but being sad for me and the others who now walk the rest of our lives without Tyler. When my mind goes down the path of it’s not fair that Tyler missed his first day of 11th grade, won’t see his 16th birthday, won’t graduate college, or father a child, I end up realizing that he himself wouldn’t even agree with that based on the much better joy he’s now experiencing.
So it’s really me feeling it’s not fair that I won’t get to see Tyler experience these things. You know the saying, “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘Team’?” Well, there’s definitely an “I” in “Grief.” I don’t even know why I bother to make this distinction, but I guess somehow it’s better to be crying for me than to be crying for him. Oh, how I’m thankful that Tyler gave his life over to the Lord while on this earth, that now he’s with his Lord for all eternity, so I don’t have to be crying for him.
After this emotionally draining week, I need this 3-day weekend to recover enough to face more dates looming on the horizon. Actually, one of them is Labor Day. Ty and I spent hours last year on Labor Day researching occupational therapy as a career and looking at college and master’s programs. Tyler was so excited to have finally chosen a career course. As we planned his future that day, we were blissfully ignorant of the cancer taking over his blood cells.
Other dates are around the corner: September 6 (the last day he ever attended school, the night we went to the ER, and his last pre-diagnosis day), September 7 (the night/day we discovered he had AML), September 14 (the night we learned his AML subtype had a 13% survival rate without a bone marrow transplant). After that will be the day he lost his hair and so many other dates that are burned into my mind.
My staff often tease me about my ridiculous ability to recall meaningless dates. I don’t have much hope of ever forgetting the significant dates since Tyler’s midnight diagnosis on 9/6/11 of Leukemia. Willingly or not, I will remember these dates while I keep drawing from God’s incredible strength.
As I wept on my way to work on the first day of school, I listened to praise-filled, hope-filled, joy-filled lyrics on a playlist that Ron had made of his favorite Christian songs. I still didn’t have my 11th grader. But I had – and still have – great hope, great comfort, and a salve for my soul.
If you’d like to listen to one of the songs that get us though, the link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxqfDs-64I0 (MercyMe’s The Hurt and The Healer). Ron and I still feel your prayers, even 5 months later. We are incredibly blessed, and we truly know it.
“Why?”
The question that is never far away
But healing doesn’t come from the explained
Jesus please don’t let this go in vain
You’re all I have
All that remains
So here I am
What’s left of me
Where glory meets my suffering
I’m alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take my heart and breathe it back to life
I fall into Your arms open wide
When the hurt and the healer collide
Breathe
Sometimes I feel it’s all that I can do
Pain so deep that I can hardly move
Just keep my eyes completely fixed on You
Lord take hold and pull me through
So here I am
What’s left of me
Where glory meets my suffering
I’m alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take my heart and breathe it back to life
I fall into your arms open wide
When the hurt and the healer collide
It’s the moment when humanity
Is overcome by majesty
When grace is ushered in for good
And all the scars are understood
When mercy takes its rightful place
And all these questions fade away
When out of the weakness we must bow
And hear You say “It’s over now!”
I’m alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take this heart and breathe it back to life
I fall into your arms open wide
When The hurt and the healer collide
Jesus come and break my fear
Awake my heart and take my tears
Find Your glory even here
When the hurt and the healer collide
Jesus come and break my fear
Awake my heart and take my tears
Find Your glory even here
When the hurt and the healer collide
Jesus come and break my fear
Awake my heart and take my tears
Find Your glory even here