The Last of the Lasts

For some time now we've faced so many "lasts" that often it felt as if we were just moving from one heart wrenching last to the next--our last movie at the theater, our last walk along the river together, our last trip to Dairy Queen, our last dinner at McDonald's...we knew at those times that they were likely to be the last of each and that made each all the more bittersweet. In reality, we were doing some of "the lasts" all along, we just didn't realize it at the time. Braeden's first summer at the beach was his last summer at the beach. His first fishing trips were his last. His first visit to the water park was his only one. His first trip on an airplane was his last--traveling to another hospital, not the trip to Disney that we had planned. New Year's Eve was particularly emotional and sad for me. It was the last day of the last year in our lives on earth that would have Braeden in them. The last one that would contain stories, sayings, and pictures of him.
Now, here we are on April 17...tomorrow is one year from the day of Braeden's death. Today is the last day I will ever be able to say, "Last year at this time, we..." Because after today, Breaden won't have existed in "last year at this time" except in our hearts and minds. That feeling I can only describe as crushing. It's a pain I can't even begin to find words for. So here it is--our last "last year at this time..."

Friday, April 17, 2009--Breaden had stopped wanting to get out of his bed the day before. He was throwing up anything he tried to eat or drink, so our hospice nurses had suggested giving him sips of water or juice or whatever off of a spoon so he wouldn't drink too quickly. Friday morning he woke but said again that he wanted to stay in bed, asked for Curious George to be put on, and then told me he needed an orange and a blue flavor ice from the freezer. I got them and he only took a small bite before going back to sleep. He drifted in and out that morning but woke up enough to have a very clear argument with me that he could indeed have a sippy cup and no, he would not throw up. I think I will always treasure that argument. Ruth-Anne our nurse came later that morning and confirmed what we already knew, not much longer. The kids had stayed home from school that day. We frequently went in to kiss Braeden's head, tell him we loved him, talk with him, sit with him, cuddle him. That evening the kids, Kevin and I gathered in the bedroom so the kids could watch a new SpongeBob special (SpongeBob vs the Big One) with Braeden. He wasn't very awake, but I'm sure he knew they were there. They sat in our room watching cartoons until bedtime. They told Braeden good night and went to bed. At 2:27 the next morning, Braeden went quietly into the waiting arms of Jesus.

That was the final last. And today it seems very surreal. Like it really can't be that long ago (can it?). Now it will all be more than one year ago.

I wanted more. I wanted more of his life, more arguments, more tantrums, the works. I wanted it all. Tomorrow will be one year. It's not a magic line in the sand that we'll cross and things will be all better. But I can't stop it. Tomorrow will be April 18th no matter what. Tomorrow I will wake up, go to church, and praise God for what I did get: three years, eleven months, one day, two hours and twenty-seven minutes of all "that stuff."
I'll always be thankful for that time, thankful that I was chosen to be Bub's mom. Just like I'll always want more, and always wish each "last" wasn't the last...