The older we become, death becomes eminent. It is something we can not escape and the only thing we can be sure of, other than paying taxes. When someone passes away, sadness overtakes us until we realize it is their appointed time to say good-bye. However, the death of a child is something entirely different. Last month, I recall reading the daily news... There it was, Section C, column 4, page 15; a parents worst nightmare! Three deceased children.
I tried to envision how horrible it must have been for the parents to learn their children were gone forever and how feverishly the medical personnel worked to save their childrens lives. The police said their deaths could have been avoided. Although the families did not know one another, they were bound together by circumstance and desperate to make sense of the tragedies that had befallen them. One child died in a car accident; a daughter from a drug overdose, and another boy, from a gunshot wound to his chest. Sadly, his best friend accidentally shot him while they were playing Russian roulette with his big brothers gun.
Work and play are verbs that are relative to one another. We all do them, some enjoy them, others prefer one over the other. But, death, is an acronym for "Despite Everyones' Attempt To Help"..... It is a omen that foretells an end to a set of circumstance as we know it, yet heralds a new beginning and step into the unknown. Whatever its formal meaning, it portrays exactly what we all believe it to mean; the finality of a situation.
Children are chosen by God and given to us as gifts. They are presented to parents to raise, teach and love. They are not ours to possess or keep; they are loaned. Parents believe we are here for our children, but in reality, they are here for us. Children are the teachers of patience, givers of wisdom and the reason for the skip in our steps. They are the reasons why we live and why we fight to survive deaths forerunners called, cancer, heart attacks, drug addiction and even suicide.
"Time heals all wounds," is another common analogy used to placate another whenever we are lost for words, or we do not know what to say to comfort them. It is tomorrows hope that somehow they will survive whatever tragedy has befallen them. Parents who have lost children know that "time" is like a diamond, and has many facets. It has the ability to make us wiser, less trusting or older. It can also bring with it promises of a new tomorrow, fresh ideas or another tragedy. It holds in its hand the perception of a glass half empty vs. a glass half full. Whatever its true meaning, one thing is clear; any parent who survives the loss of a child will never be the same.
Brooke Jennings is passionate about educating the public and preventing caregiver abuse/negligence. Since the death of her son, Michael, she has been active in rallying supporters for The Faith Foundation (fighting abuse in today's healthcare) by helping to increase public awareness. She currently resides in Nevada with her husband and cat, Midnight.
Living In A Place Called Beautiful; recognizing the signs of caregiver abuse by Brooke Jennings is her own personal account of a beloved sons death by the hands of his caregivers. It is not an easy read emotionally, but it just might provide you with information you won't find elsewhere. Her second book is a 16 page booklet called "Nursing Home Do's and Don'ts" and is for sale at her website: http://www.brookesden.com or through Tate Publishing.
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