Never even saw it coming.
We are nearing the 6 year anniversary of our eldest sons freak accident. My husband and our two boys were out riding dirt bikes when a crazy storm popped up and within the first 5 minutes of the storm, all three were struck by lightning. Matt and Tucker suffered minor injuries and Riggs, our eldest, was killed instantly.
Matt began doing CPR on our boy while Tucker, just 11 at the time, watched in horror from the back seat of the truck. My husband, despite his own injuries, diligently pumped Riggs chest for forty five minutes. Yes, you heard me correct. FORTY FIVE minutes until paramedics arrived and were able to shock his heart into starting again. Matt never got a heart beat but he maintained as much oxygen as possible to Riggs brain. He was alive. Barely, but he was alive.
Out of reverence, I pay homage to this event each year on the date and repost my blog about that dreadful day. I am not doing that this year. If you wish to read about those events, you can go back in this blog and visit that story. I no longer wish to revisit that story. For starters, we live with that story every single day...and it's exhausting.
It is easy to get "stuck" when traumatic events hit us but the truth is, we are ALL in a different place right now and if we are being honest, I'm over it. I have chosen to see the light where there is light to be seen. I fondly remember the friends that surrounded us at the hospital and later at home when Riggs was discharged. I choose to remember the many, MANY miracles that were cast upon us that hot June day, and I choose to forgive myself for the past six years when I didn't know what in the hell I was doing as I learned to live and adjust to our new normal.
I laugh at things that I probably shouldn't because that is how I cope. I sometimes say terrible things about my child when I'm having a bad day or week. I favor Tucker and I don't apologize for it. It has gotten to be a joke around the house that the kid has me wrapped around his finger. He totally does but it is WAY more than that. He was 11 years old when our lives were rocked by Riggs's accident and he totally manned up. He manned up for Matt the night of the accident taking charge of paramedics when they arrived. He manned up for me when I was discouraged with Riggs lack of progress and to this day, mans up for Bella. When Riggs is having a bad day or is going to blows with Matt or I, Tucker will take Bella down to the basement to play a game and protect her from anything he can. Is he perfect, no, but I have watched my middle child overcome huge obstacles and as a result, I'm pretty smitten.
While Riggs had the luxury of forgetting what had happened, Tucker saw everything go down and was stellar in every regard. He saw his brother literally drop dead in front of his eyes, he came to the hospital and made his own case to the ICU nurses that while he was only 11, he NEEDED to see his brother and he deserved to be able to go back with him. He won them over and they let him go. The next weeks would be rough on all of us...Tucker was always able to connect with Riggs in ways that Matt and I couldn't and it always lightened the heaviness of the situation when Tucker came to the hospital. He still knows how to diffuse things around the house when they have at times gotten heavy and I'm grateful.
(Scottish Rite Hospital...week 4)
I am proud of certain things I have learned and not so proud of others. It has taken me years to just admit that I am doing the best I can and even longer to allow my husband to have his moments of frustration, disappointment, or sadness. We are all doing the best we can...Riggs included. There is no instruction manual for chaos, challenges, or grief. We are all just riding the waves the best we know how.
All of us at one time or another are going to have the rug ripped out from us and everything we thought we knew is going to change. While occasionally, we have time to prepare, more times than not, it is a single moment that changes us forever. It is a fact of life and I don't think anyone is immune to it. I have seen friends blindsided by divorce, the sudden death of a parent, spouse or of the unimaginable, a child. I am here to tell you that there is no proper way to handle whatever it is that comes your way and if anyone, ANYONE, tries to comfort you with trite words like "everything happens for a reason", you have my permission to punch them in the throat.
Truly.
The past years have been trying to say the least for our family. For awhile there, we all tried to protect Riggs from himself (it has only taken me 5 years to figure out that this can't be done) and so we kept tight lipped about his (and ultimately our) struggles. As his mother, it is my job to protect him and so while I won't go into detail, I will say what I have always said. Riggs had a traumatic accident and he survived. We all did. Our family is eternally grateful that he survived and that we got to keep him. What we had never anticipated was the "him" we got to keep was going to be a different "him" than we had before. We lost our child and got a different one back.
Therein lies the aftermath.
Many prayers were prayed as Riggs lay in a coma. In this picture, he had severe pneumonia from aspirating during CPR. It was June in Atlanta and about 97 degrees outside. His room was freezing and I sat bundled in doubled sweatshirts as they attempted to break his fever. Every time the nurse would leave the room I would cover him up with blankets because I hated the thought of him being cold. Never mind that he was burning up or that the nurse would quickly uncover him every time she came in. She eventually stopped scolding me and it became a rebellious dance between the two of us. I was his mother and I was determined to make him comfortable and she could just bite me as far as I was concerned.
Six days later Riggs would wake up and Matt and I would fire questions at him as though he were a contestant on Jeopardy rather than our child who had just suffered full blown cardiac arrest and a head trauma. We were desperate to see if he was "in there". He knew the answer to every question we asked. Brother, sister, dog's name. What does dad like to do? He answered work on cars and boats. Bingo. What does mom like to do? Exercise, hang out with friends and shop (hey two out of three aint bad). We were beyond relieved and although the next several weeks and months would be challenging, we considered ourselves lucky to have come out on the other side of such a horrific accident. We were incredibly aware of all the other alternatives and we considered ourselves blessed beyond measure.
Five weeks later, we left the hospital. There was physical and cognitive therapy and an abundance of meetings with school counselors and teachers as Riggs began the 9th grade. Matt and I were completely dedicated to our sons rehabilitation and prided ourselves on how swiftly he stepped back into our family routine. We took things one day at a time and high fived each other at every accomplishment.
Fast forward two years.
At first it was odd behavior and a complete and total lack of ambition to do anything. There was lying, stealing, complete passiveness or complete aggression. We have repaired many holes in the walls and Matt has often had to literally hold Riggs down as he worked through a fit of rage. Matt and Tucker have been called things I wouldn't call my worst enemy. While Riggs has gotten angry at me, he has somehow managed to hold his tongue when it comes to hurting me. For that, I am grateful and because of that, I know that he is still in there. Maybe not in the way we want him to be, but he's in there.
Throughout high school (or as I like to refer to it, the longest 4 years of my life), there was trouble in school and meeting after endless meeting trying to get to the bottom of each scenario. There were so many behaviors that were completely out of character and we spent many a nights in Riggs room talking to him for HOURS and trying to help him navigate through his actions. Matt and I would retire to our own bed and continue to talk into the wee hours of the morning battling the question "is this brain related or just crazy teenage behavior"? We didn't know and neither did anyone else. Apparently, the references on lightning strikes and people who live through them are quite small in number. We were completely and utterly stuck in a situation that we had no manual for.
I should add, we still are.
There has been jail (for really silly things...nevertheless, still jail). There have been hospital and emergency room visits and evaluations when we just didn't know what to do or how to do it. It has been never ending and I write this tonight because it is becoming evident that it isn't ever going to end. And that's ok. I need to get good with that and I do have a point outside of our own situation. Please be patient with me.
Riggs is kind and funny and tender hearted...we did after all raise him to be that way. He is our first born and we adore him. All the love in the world, however, can't stop us from cringing at the choices that he has made or continues to make. It doesn't matter if it is brain related or just crazy teenage behavior. We have to stand by and watch helplessly and we have to learn to play with the cards we have been dealt. Not easy I might add for a couple of control freaks like us.
I had an epiphany not too long ago when I thought that this game of wack a mole with him was going to kill me, destroy my marriage, or ruin the lives of my other two children (who are thriving I might add). I wrestled with God asking "what is it that I am supposed to learn from this"? I have always been up for a challenge but this one seemed to be dragging on and on and on. It was then that the answer came. The only thing you are supposed to learn from this is how to love someone when they are not lovable. At all. Oh and by the way, you are going to have years of practice at this.
Alrighty then.
I love my child with every fiber of my being...and that just might not be enough. I can love him but I can't pray this situation away. It is what it is and I need to embrace it. It occurred to me one sleepless night that I am not unique. I am not the first mother to have wanted something different for their child. I have seen friends struggle with drug addicted spouses and children. I have seen the pain of suicides or tragic mistakes that shattered lives all around. Perhaps the hardest pill to swallow is when someone else's choices indirectly or directly hurt us. It isn't fair, but oh well.
Earlier this week, my seemingly normal morning took an abrupt turn with my son. It was 7:45 in the morning and what occurred was mild in comparison to other things but it was the final straw for me. Something in me just snapped and Matt and I concluded that love wasn't going to be enough. We had to play hardball and it was go time. Like literally...It's time to GO. Despite the Jerry Springer episode that had just transpired on my driveway, I felt a sense of calm and called Matt shortly after leaving for work to tell him I loved him. We'd been here before but this time felt different and we both knew it.
I went to work unscathed, un rattled and went about my day. This tough love thing was going to work this time around. It had to. I was brewing with confidence.
Around lunchtime, I was forwarded an article about a senior at our local high school who had been coming home from a study session the night before. A car in the passing lane hit a dear that flew into his lane and ultimately into his car, killing him instantly. It was his moms birthday and they were out of state....how's that for a happy birthday? I can't imagine. According to anyone who knew this boy, he was one of a kind and just as sweet as they come. His parents, now three weeks from graduation, were planning their sons funeral.
Spoiler alert. Life isn't fair.
I sank into my chair, my confidence deflated and I picked up my phone to text Riggs. It's not against the rules to play hard but still let them know you love them. And I am quite certain that this is how my life with him will always go. I am not responsible for what he does and says, I am only responsible for what I do and say. We will never regret telling someone we love them and I hope that this poor mother had the chance to say that to her boy before she received that awful call that he was gone.
I got in the car to drive home from work and the tears just came. I ached for my own situation, I ached for the family of this boy who lost his life so tragically and for all those who are dealing with their own THINGS. We all have THINGS and I for one am grateful for the hardships that have made me what I am today. Make no mistake about it, I wasn't grateful at the time.
I hate the question why do bad things happen to good people? The reason bad things happen to good people is because that is when our hearts are stirred. We tend to conveniently forgot our blessings with things are going smoothly. It is when tragedy strikes that we are the most pliable to hurt, to serve others, to learn, and to grow. Most days, I am blissfully unaware of my heart. In times of tragedy, I am reminded of how human I am.
Hearts break...and that's just that.
The truth is we have no control over what life deals us or others for that matter. I tend to be an advocate for not saying stupid shit when people are hurting. When someone is in the fetal position just trying to breathe, they don't need your take on why whatever happened happened. Whoever said silence is golden knew a thing or two about comforting others.
It has been my experience that the initial accident, diagnosis, divorce, or death is the initial punch to the gut. The aftermath, however, is where the real struggle is. People tend to fall away, assume you are fine, stop checking in and move on...meanwhile you are stuck picking up the pieces of a situation that isn't "new" anymore.
The aftermath is a complete and total bitch.
There are a lot of things I can't do right with my current situation but there are many things I can. I am so grateful for the friends that I have in my corner. I would literally be sunk without them. I am grateful that through my own "stuff", I have learned what people do and don't need when dealing with their own tragedy's and as a result, I can say I think I'm a good friend. I feel an instant connection to those who are blindsided when it comes to the sickness or death of a child. It's all I can do to resist driving to their house, ringing the doorbell, and saying "Hi. You don't know me, but I'm just going to sit here and remind you to blink until you can remember to do it on your own". I want to say "You will get through this. Maybe not this year, or even next, but eventually, you WILL get through this. Oh and if you want to throw things or swear like a sailor, I'll just sit here while you do that too".
We are allowed to react to our situations in whatever way we see fit. That is called healing and we all heal differently.
While the "anniversary" of Riggs accident is still weeks away, I am not waiting for an exact day to talk about it. It has weighed on me heavily this week and I felt that it was necessarily for my own healing to just address it. It isn't a date to remember, it is a constant battle, one that I am grateful to have been chosen to fight. It's not going away and I refuse to give a shout out to a day anymore when I live with it. I wake up daily with the scars to prove it...
When were we ever promised that life would be without conflict or sorrow? Why are we shocked when tragedy strikes? Not only is life not fair, it's so, SO messy. It isn't about the events, dates or anniversary's that change us but rather learning to live with the effects of those things. It is in the aftermath that we learn to put one foot in front of the other and just breathe.
