#time – A Father's Grief

With every dawn that breaks the eastern sky, a grieving parent somewhere in this world starts “their day.” They wake up knowing today is the day, today is the day I lost my child. There is not a day that begins nor a day that ends that a parent who has lost a child is not grieving their child. Whether it be one year, five years, twenty years or fifty years a parent never forgets that day. The day their world crumbled, the day their soul emptied, the day their heart was, in every sense of the word, broken. Broken to a point that you never think it will work again. This day, no matter where you are, is the most difficult day of the year for a grieving parent. Whether you stay curled up in bed to try and sleep the day away or go to work to try and keep your mind occupied. Every moment you check the time thinking has it passed. Has the hour, the minute, the second your child slipped from this world passed. Is it behind me for another year, is this one moment in time gone for now. Because in your mind you think if you can make it passed that moment in time you will be okay, but your heart knows different. Two days from today will be my “day,” August 28. For me it has been two years, a sliver of time in the large, expansive realm of life, but feels like an eternity. An anniversary that no one wants to celebrate. This day becomes part of a grieving parents life just as birthday’s and holiday’s. A day no one truly wants to remember, but a day that will never be forgotten. For those of you that did not know about Lindsay and what happened I what to give you a brief synopsis before I go on to my next thought. On August 21, 2016 Lindsay was in a horrible traffic accident that caused a traumatic brain injury. After emergency surgery she was still in very critical condition and remained unconscious for the remainder of the week, we lost her August 28, 2016. After a week of hoping, praying and spending every moment we could with Lindsay, she in her own way told us it was time, as her broken body began to let go. You see, Lindsay had a dream to be a surgeon, a saver of lives. By being an organ donor she was about to do just that, save lives. She knew her mother and I could never make the devastating decision’s we had to make so she made them for us.

So now, not only do I have the day of August 21, and the day of August 28, I also have the night of August 27. Imagine knowing tomorrow would be the last time you would ever see your son or daughter. The last day to hold their hand, the last day to kiss their forehead, the last day to just sit and look at them. Imagine the thoughts that would go through your mind. Imagine the love, the anger, the sadness, the memories, the what if’s, the why’s, the guilt, the remorse, imagine the pain that would almost cripple your body. Imagine being so exhausted but fighting to stay awake because you do not want tomorrow to come. Imagine already knowing, without a miracle from God, what tomorrow will bring.

I have heard it my entire life and I have said the very words myself when it comes to someone passing away that has been sick or on life support, “At least the family had time to say goodbye.” Not even close to being true. There is never enough time, there are never enough minutes in the day, hours in a week or days in a year for a parent to say goodbye to a child, forever. To stand beside a young woman only seventeen years old lying in a hospital bed, holding her hand and feeling her last heartbeat. I never thought as I stood in the very same hospital seventeen years earlier, and watched Lindsay come into this world, that I would be holding her hand as I watched her leave this world. Believe me there is never enough time.

On the other hand was I thankful for the time, the week we had with Lindsay, yes, more than anyone will ever know, more than I have the vocabulary to express. Thankful for every second I stood in that room holding her hand, talking to her, praying that she would wake up and answer me. Thankful for the doctors, the nurses, the chaplain, the janitor, everyone that walked that long hall with me, shook my hand, hugged my neck, and said a prayer for Lindsay. Time with your children is a very precious thing, and no matter if they are leaving for kindergarten, leaving for college, leaving for love and marriage, or leaving you forever, take the time, make the time, embrace the time. Time with your children will start to flee very fast as they grow older, but time for a grieving parent now stands still.

When you lay down Monday night August 27th, don’t think of my family or Lindsay, think of your son, your daughter. Think about the love you have for them, think about the last time you told them you love them, think about the last time you gave them a hug. Think about what life would be like without them, it will make your life and time with them more precious. Realize the time you have is never enough, it can be stolen from you like a thief in the night. Be thankful for the time and memories you have because when the memory makers are gone, memories are all you have.

On my day, August 28th, if you think of my family or say a prayer for us, please also remember Lindsay’s extended family and her countless friends. Remember somewhere in this world there are probably other parents who share this day with us, and say a prayer for them as well. My day will be long and it will be difficult, but what will keep me going is remembering all the precious time.

It is Easter morning, my son Jarrett is here, Kelli is here, my mom and Kathy, Kelli’s mom, are coming over later to eat and we will get to spend some time together. I will get to eat breakfast with Jarrett because he has to work today, so I am thankful for the time we will get to spend together. What is time, “Time is the indefinite continued progress of existence and events that occur in apparently irreversible succession from the past through the present to the future,” Time is such an important part of our lives and it is what we live our lives around. Time to go to work. Time to go to bed. What time is it? What time is dinner? Have to hurry, we are running out of time. You have all the time in the world. Take your time. Time is money. Time is precious. I could go on for hours about time, but the one thing about time that will always be true, it never stands still. Time is always in constant motion, the clocks are turning, the sun is rising, the moon is setting, and our lives go on. The question I often ask myself. “As a grieving parent is it wrong to want time to stop, to stand still, to cease to exist?” We look at time as a measuring stick to our existence here on earth. We judge the quantity of our time based upon the quality of our time. The average lifespan in the United States today covers 78.74 years. That may seem like a long time, but when you wake up one morning and realize you have lived longer than you have left to live, it is a very short period of time. When Lindsay was in the hospital we became close to a lot of her friends. Over the past year and a half we have watched them grow and expand their lives. Several have gone on to college, some have gotten married, some are starting their careers, some are having children of their own and some are graduating. As for all these wonderful young people I wish nothing but the best and I would never hope that their time stand still. Time marches on, time knows no boundaries, and according to Albert Einstein, “Time is an illusion.” With every second that passes your past is expanded and your future lessened. I know that time will keep moving forward for all of Lindsay’s friends, I know that time will keep going for Jarrett, and the rest of my family. We all have to move forward, we all have to grow and we all have to live. I know that every second of the day creates a new memory for the future, and it has to. The world’s time clock does not stop because your heart is broken, because your world is shattered, because your child is no longer here, but so many times, I wish with all my heart, it would. I have said before that when you lose a child all you have is memories, because there is no more time to make new ones. Time is all we have while we are here on this earth, so use it wisely. We seem to never have enough time to share with the ones we love. We seem to never have the time to do the things we love. We seem to never have the time to enjoy time. Please take the time before time stops for you, before there is no more time for new memories.

There was once a man, that for thirty three years of time, walked this earth. At the end of those years he hung from a cross for six hours to die. This same man laid in an unmarked tomb for three days. At the end of those three days he arose and ascended into heaven to be with his Father. Now, in heaven, Lindsay walks with him everyday in a place that knows no time. Because God placed himself on this earth in the form of a man for thirty three years, Lindsay now lives in a timeless and infinite paradise.

In the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes” there is a scene where the character Ruth passes away after a long illness. When she breaths her last the character Sipsey walks over to the families Grandfather clock, opens the front and reaches in to stop the pendulum from swinging, stopping time. If only I had a grandfathers clock that day, the afternoon of August 21, 2016 around three o’clock. My heart wishes that all time ceased to exist. I wish that metaphoric clock was there so I could have stopped time before time stopped making memories. Selfish, greedy, self-indulgent, to a grieving father I believe not. That afternoon, the time spent before Lindsay’s accident, was so special, there was no illusion Albert, it was real. These last precious moments of time were ones that will never leave my mind, they are the scar tissue that covers the pain that will last forever in my heart.

A Father's Grief

by Brad Benton

Tag: #time

Precious Time

Time…