Monday, July 18, 2011

Day Twenty Six




When Kara was pregnant with James, I wrote him everyday. Most days I curled up at the end of the day and wrote to him in a gmail document, snippets of of the day and of him. Some days I just jotted off notes on pieces of paper and added them in later. I told him what size fruit he was every week, what we were learning about him. I told him about all the fun things we were going to do together. We called him the bean before we knew him as James. We got the idea from his first ultrasound, when his beating heart surprised our Doctor. He was ahead of schedule- the boy was always precocious. I thought he was a girl. Kara knew better. When I wrote that, I wanted to give it to him one day, on a birthday or some other milestone. I wanted him to take it with him and know how we loved him totally from the time we first knew him, before we gave him a name or even knew what kind of name to give him. That I thought of him everyday.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm still writing that letter to him here, pausing each day to write. We just won't get a chance to talk about it, James and I. What I hope and pray is that I'll find another way to get that letter to him.

We are still doing. Doing this, doing that, doing anything but. We sprang awake this morning- late but eager- and began the day with a barrage of phone calls. Schedule time with the funeral home. Schedule a time at the cemetery. Call charities to explore options. We were in the car for the funeral home within an hour of waking up.

I wish I could say our funeral home experience went well. It did not. We arrived were handed off to a director in a back room. He fumbled immediately by spelling my name wrong on the death certificate, then following up by asking us what education level our eight month old son had attained. Why "less than eighth grade" wasn't simply checked is beyond me. We were not pleased. We couldn't look at caskets. They didn't have the baby ones there. We looked at a brochure, full of gingham monstrosities and designs which should never exist. He suggested a plastic one for $600. We were not amused. The whole catalog shouldn't exist. We selected the least offensive, poplar wood and not very baby. In our minds, James never seemed like just a baby. He was a whole person, with a personality and an identity apart from merely being an infant. He was James Camden Sikes, our son. He was not just our baby. After we selected, we were told we couldn't get it in until Thursday- after we'd scheduled James' service. The details were sketchy, we scrambled looking elsewhere, pitched a fit, I pulled the lawyer card and lo and behold, problem solved. We received a discount for our trouble. As if it mattered.

We then ventured out to the cemetery- the one in Denton where Kara has family. We'd liked it the most yesterday, and we felt good about it. The environment was totally different, in a much better way. No corporate offices (as one cemetery salesman told us, "This is the very best of our 600 cemeteries") just an old country woman behind a desk, with a map of spots. A fraction of the cost. We were shown a few spaces and finally chose a block of three by a newly planted tree where we could put a bench. We bought all three. James will take the middle spot. We'll follow. Once upon a time, we asked each other but never answered "Where would you want to be buried?" Now the answer is obvious and simple. "With James."

We went home and our families were over. We burned time sorting through decisions. Pallbearers. Clothes. Songs. Pictures. We did all of that and we managed not to deal with a lot. We ate. And here we are again, another day spent. We'll run out of decisions, plots to buy, and things to plan eventually. We'll have to deal with emptiness, with the lack of James. But not yet. Florist in the morning. Always something.

Thank all of you for your e-mails, comments and prayers. We are horrible at responding, but we read each one. We are truly grateful for the impact James has had on the world.

20 comments:

  1. So sorry for you loss! I pray for you and your family daily.

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  2. My heart is broken for you, and you are always in my prayers.

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  3. Your James is delicious. His death must leave a cavernous hole in your very souls. For this I am deeply sorry. I am a pediatric oncology nurse. I have been for 24 years. I hate ATRT. ATRT is heIl. It is unfair. It is greedy and vicious and cruel. And I am so very sorry. You are prayed for. Your James is loved. May peace find you when the decisions are all made. May you feel that deep peace when you need it most. I am so very, very sorry.

    God bless the Sikes family. Gid love James Camden Sikes!

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  4. I have never met you and yet I feel like I know you both and your sweet James!

    Thank you for allowing us (some of us strangers) to share your journey and have the opportunity to know James.

    I continue to pray and hold you all in my heart.

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  5. Your courage is truly inspiring. Stay strong in the faith during this difficult time. Cling to Jesus and to each other. So many people love you and are supporting you, never ever forget that!

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  6. Your James gives you the strength to keep telling his story and I, for one, am so grateful he does, as I love hearing all that you tell of about him.

    I am just in awe each time I see his beautiful pictures. He is simply stunning!

    My heart will always ache for all of you and, as always, you will be in my prayers.

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  7. I do not know your family. I would say I "happened" across your blog, but I believe God is in control of all things and led me to it. I began reading it Saturday night and finished up on Sunday. My heart breaks for your precious family and I have been praying for you so much. I pray that you feel the prayers of all of the people reading your blog and feel God's presence and comfort. James has been a blessing to me and has touched my life in these few days. Is there a way people could send donations to help with medical and funeral costs? My family wants to help and I am sure there are others, too. Please know that we will continue to pray.

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  8. Kara, I don't know you but came to your blog last night & read every post from the beginning. I can't even imagine the way you're feeling right now, but I wanted you to know that this mama from Whitehouse, TX (just a couple hours away!) is praying for you and your husband.

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  9. My heart breaks as I read about your family and your sweet Jamesie. Although we know he is in a better place, it does not help with our hurt here on earth. Please know that my thoughts and prayers are with your family. I will pray and continue to pray. Please let us know in the blog world how we can help...even thought I know those sentiments can feel so empty sometimes. God bless you.

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  10. Kara and Matt -- I don't know you, but have been following Jamesie's journey since a friend posted it the day of the tumor operation. As a fellow Baylor Bear I felt an immediate connection -- with you and with your "baby bear." I've never written because I feel almost like I'm intruding, but felt called to tell you that you are all in my prayers, and have been. Jamesie has been on my mind all day long today, as have you both. I pray that the God we both know will somehow work His miracles and touch your hearts with peace. I celebrate the joyful party I know is going on in Heaven where Jamesie is being welcomed and held in loving arms. I am so profoundly sorry for your loss. There truly are no words.

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  11. Still praying for you and your family. May God give you rest and peace!

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  12. I am so sorry that adding to the unbearable loss of your darling, sweet son you have encountered inexcusable insensitivity in the last place you should ever encounter it.

    You are an extraordinarily gifted writer. It may be that one day you will write a book to James.

    Prayers are with you and your family.

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  13. I'm so so sorry that you've had to deal with such insensitive people during such a time as this. Continuing to pray for you....

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  14. Kara and Matt,

    Another I don't know you... we haven't met, but we have that unspoken bond of "brain tumor parents", one that no one wants to have. James and you and Kara are bringing a sense of understanding and comfort to so many people that you don't even know. So selfless. Thank you. Also, I so love the pictures that you continue to put up of James - he's a cutie!

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  15. I am glad you have found a fitting spot to bury your precious boy. I can picture you both sitting on that bench, talking to James over the years.

    Wishing you continued strength and courage.

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  16. Praying for you. I'm running a 10k in two weeks and will dedicate it to James.

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  17. Another 'I don't know you' brought here through another blog. My son is a regular visitor to our local childrens hospital and has a progressive life limiting illness. In honour of James I have placed an order today for a parcel of Sophie giraffes to hand to the staff in the baby high dependancy unit so that infants coming into their care can each have a giraffe. I am so profoundly sorry for your loss and no words seem adequate.

    Fiona & family Scotland

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  18. My heart breaks for you. There just aren't any words that I can say that will make you feel any better - just know that there are so many people praying for you and for James. People you've never met and probably never will. Your sweet boy has touched so many lives, mine included, and I hope that you find comfort in the fact that he will not be forgotten, even by strangers like me.

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  19. Matthew- I don't know you and just left a response to Kara...as many, I am a friend of a friend. As unfair as it is that you both have had to be the ones to lose a child, you are beyond an inspiration to the rest of us parents. I wish it didn't have to be you. As our family says, "you're good people". And although bad people don't even deserve what you have gone through, I still wish it wasn't you. I lost my dad at 17 years old. Very quickly and tragically. And it is in NO WAY the same as losing a child....but the loss is magnificent. Just hold Kara, your faith and your memories of James as tightly as you can. One day you will smile again. Remembering what a beautiful son you held, loved, comforted, and dreamed with. I will continue to pray during this very unbearable time and in the days and months and years to come. You have impacted so many and James has been such a force of love, happiness and inspiration to all that have read his story. Never let that down.

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  20. I am so sorry for the loss of your son. I do not know you, but I came across your blog from another blog. I was struck by how obviously loved your son was and is, and the life in his eyes in the photos on your blog. I cannot imagine the grief, and no one should have to bury their own child. You can take comfort in knowing that if you have Jesus in your heart, you will see your James again. Praying peace over you!

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