Love Quote #6642069
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Micah's dad's story.. ; it's been a little over



Micah's dad's story..  

; it's been a little over 7 months since my son's death and as I think back now, I can remember some really sad times. For example, I remember perfectly getting the telephone call at work that hot summer day from the Albany, California police officer. After identifying himself, he asked me a very peculiar question, "Where are you?" he asked. I asked him if he was asking me what my home address was. "No." he said, "Where are you right now?" I told him where I work and he said he would be there in a few minutes. I remember thinking as I hung up the phone that he had to be bringing me bad news. Police officers don't visit you in person with good news. When he arrived at my work place, he explained how there has serious accident at River Front Beach that afternoon, that my 16 year old son, Micah, was part of the accident, and that there was major impact on the young boy who was there also. I recognized that he used the term 'major impact' to let me know that my son likely had a very serious injury. 
After he escorted me to the hospital, and I got the really bad news. "He didn't make it", the doctor told me, I felt so strange. He didn't make it, how could that be? I thought he was still in his bed that morning when I left. When the doctor said those fateful words to me, I remember how strange I felt. it just didn't compute. Micah had been a living breathing soul some hours earlier and now he was gone? I didn't really feel anger at the time, but I do remember walking around the waiting room, pounding my left fist into my right palm saying, "Nothing's right about this. Nothing's right about this." In retrospect, those were exactly the right words. Poor Micah, under the right conditions he could have lived 60, maybe 70 years. Now the rest of his life was forfeited. 
When we got home, there was plenty of phone calls and person visits. And I think that was a good thing- it helped keep my mind off the bad news. I remember sitting out in the side yard that afternoon and watching the garbage truck pick up garbage. It didn't seem right, here were the garbage men picking up and emptying the trash cans just like nothing had happened. That whole first day of death was surreal. I didn't call the funeral home, I waited on them to call me. I dreaded going to the funeral home to pick out the casket and select the date and time for the funeral service. I remember Micah's friend Caleb had picked out and given me a bag with the clothes to dress Micah in and how said it felt to hand those clothes to the staff member at the funeral home. I was quite calm at the visitation the night before the funeral service. In fact, I was surprised at myself. I had expected to be upset and somewhat emotional, but instead i was calm. I was able to have a conversation with a good friend from the past that I hadn't seen in a long time. We even laughed about some reminisces from our past. Why didn't I show more sadness, more remorse? I realized later that I must have been in emotional shock. It is my impression that emotional shock is there to protect us, to allow us "ease into" the new, unpleasant situation. During the two weeks after my son's death, I puttered around the house, took walks, and generally carried on like I had before. I can remember exactly when the emotional shock ended. I had been back to work about a week. It was 21 says after my son's death and I was sitting at my desk when a sadness came on me. I don't know how else to describe it. I think I shed a few tears and somehow I understood that the emotional shock was leaving me and that Micah really was gone and I would never never see him again on earth. My sister gave me the name and phone number of another bereaved father and suggested that I call him. I did and he explained to me how his daughter died in a tragic automobile accident. Then he said something that really scared me. He told me that he thought the second year after his daughters death was the hardest.  He said that he kept expected her to come home that first year, but the second year he knew she wasn't coming home. I know grieving is a long process but I thought everything was over with in some reasonable time, a few months, maybe? 

As I look back now just 7 months later, I've forgotten about some of the really, hard, sad times. And that shows that time does, in fact, provide some healing. What if God hadn't build us to heal physically and emotionally. What if we had to feel exactly the same intense feelings every day for the rest of our life that we felt in the early stages? Could we stand it? But in fact, it does get better and i think there are several things we could do to help ourselves.  As I think back over the emotions that I felt in the first few weeks after this accident, I recogonized I did feel sadness and guilt. The guilt came about because i have been a fairly permissive parent and I have to remind myself that on him my own son had corrected serveral things in his life and was going down a better path. Of course, that almost makes me realize that had it not been  for a simple, horrifying and unexpected error, his life was about to improve. 
I close with a short poem I wrote about 4 months after my son's death: 
Death is such a final thing, 
Or so the saying goes, 
It has such a terminal ring, 
and keeps us in the threos, 
Of sadness beyond bounds, 
But just remember this, 
The memory of the person goes on, 
As long as we refuse to forget. 




 
 
----------It'sCaleb----------
 
 

 

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unforgetableCaleb

posted February 20, 2013 at 8:14pm EST tagged with love, inspirational, story