Matthew Richard VanVelse

People in my life are hurting. It’s the kind of hurt that changes people. The sudden death of a 31-year-old, pending death of a 32-year-old, a 60-year-old living with ALS, and a 16-year-old lost in a car accident.

Two are family members, one a friend’s son’s fiancée, and the other a co-worker’s daughter. Three young lives finished and one woman’s horrible demise.

There is nothing I can say or do to make more than a minute’s difference. It won’t be okay. Time will not heal all wounds. There is a top ten list of things not to say and I know them. The best I can do for them is to accept their feelings of hopelessness. They do not need me to fix, explain, rationalize, or try to cheer them. It is what it is.

Earlier in the year my dear friend’s son found his beautiful fiancée dead. He thought she was asleep. He shouted to her from another room. He went to her and tapped her shoulder. She wasn’t breathing. He called 911. He moved her to the floor and did CPR begging her to wake up. She was dead. Young healthy women do not die on couches. There will always be a before and after Melanie died.

My nephew is dying of cancer. All treatments exhausted. His mother is in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. She needs a blood transfusion. Grief is making her sick. Her son’s death is right around the corner. He is afraid to die. He is worried about his mother. You can’t die when your mother is in the hospital and you know it’s because you’re dying.

My cousin has ALS. She smiles. Her tears are saved for her husband. She tells her story on a website called Caring Bridge. After she invites you, you can read her updates. When she was diagnoised I reseached ALS. There had to be an experimental drug or new treatment. Wrong. There is a quick steady loss of all body function, but the brain remains in tact so she can be fully aware of her demise. With ALS you plan ahead. The trachea was put in place before she needed it. No question about needing it. The day will come; and it did. ..in the past 12 months she has lost the ability to walk, talk, and eat.

My co-worker’s daughter’s funeral was yesterday. She was sixteen. She played softball. She played the flute. She was the middle child of three. She had plans to meet some friends at the mall. Instead, she died in a car accident. Sudden loss. There were hundreds crowding the church, all in shock. Her parents will never feel whole again.

I am numb; filled with sadness for these families. Their losses are so devastating that there will forever be a before and after.

Follow-up: My 33-year-old nephew, Matt VanVelse, died on January 14, 2013.  My 60-year-old cousin with ALS died in February 2013 and another cousin, Jeff Hawkins died in April 2013, when his fiancée back up over him with her car.   My sister-in-law, Kathy VanVelse contracted ARDS in March and was in a drug induced comma for weeks and then remained unresponsive for months with a 10% chance of survival.  She is recovering.  It’s mid-August and she had her first outing this week.  She’s very weak, in a wheelchair, but a living breathing miracle.  Praise God…praying for her complete healing.

I am 59-years-old.  My nephew is 32-years-old.  Today we both received news from our doctors.

My test results came in the mail.  They revealed my limits were within the normal range for my stress test and heart ultrasound (echocardiogram).  These test results show that my current treatment is working.  I am happy.

Matt’s test results came directly from his oncologist at Methodist Hospital.  His lung has a 13-inch active tumor pushing on the right side of his heart.  The left side of his heart is doing all the work.  His past treatments worked for a few years.  The oncologist said if he’d been an older person he would have already expired.  According to Matt’s doctor he has two days to two weeks to live.  He is being sent home with hospice care.  I am sad.

I pray that Matt is held by Jesus and surrounded by angels.  I hope the Holy Spirit fills him with peace as he prepares to begin his new life.  I have no words adequate to share with his parents.  God bless and hold them in the palm of his hand as he comforts them and assures them there is in fact new life waiting for Matt.  They will be with him again someday.  In the meantime my heart breaks for them.

There are words written about grief that I cannot improve.  They are perfect, so they are included in this blog.  Credit is given.

No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear. – C.S. Lewis

My 31-year-old nephew is going to die. He knows it, his parents know it, and I know it. He has cancer. He’s had the best treatments available. They’ve damn near killed him trying to cure him. Nothing is working. What now?

What do you say to a parent who is losing a child? I’ve not had the right words before and I don’t have them now. There are no words to ease the pain when a child dies.

Losing one of my children terrifies me. I know parents who have lost a child and I wonder how they can move, get dressed, go to work, answer a phone, sleep, get out of bed or even take another breath. On the Holmes and Rahe stress scale, death of a spouse or child is the number one stress.

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross claims there is no typical loss. Our grief is as individual as our lives, but the stages of grief are universal. They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

After a child dies, most parents eventually reach the final stage of grief, they laugh again, and they live; but the vacancy and sadness caused by their loss never leaves. They have lost the future they would have had with their child. They have lost grandchildren who will never be born. They have lost the comfort they would have received from their child in their old age. They have lost phone calls, visits, funny stories, and laughter. There are no more vacations, holidays, or birthdays to celebrate with that child.

So, how do I help my nephew’s parents?  I look for wisdom and strength.  Following are some of the lessons I’ve learned by searching.

When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.  -Henri Nouwe

“The reality is that we don’t forget, move on, and have closure, but rather we honor, we remember, and incorporate our deceased children and siblings into our lives in a new way. In fact, keeping memories of your loved one alive in your mind and heart is an important part of your healing journey.” ~ Harriet Schiff, author

There are things that we don’t want to happen but have to accept, things we don’t want to know but have to learn, and people we can’t live without but have to let go. ~ Author Unknown

I pray and I think of them often.  I ask God to give my nephew and his parents a sense of calm and peace and acceptance.  I pray that their fear is lifted.  I don’t offer false hope or try to send them all over the country for second opinions.  I support any choice they make and condone any behavior I witness.  But, most of all I promise to never forget my nephew.