Losing Alex, Part 3
You know, I’ve posted
two parts about the day Alex left this earth, and now I’m having second
thoughts. Not because I regret telling
any of the story—I don’t, it’s been good for me to get it all out onto
paper (um, a screen?)—but because I’m afraid that it is going to be taken the wrong way. I know Kristi will most likely read this, and
I really don’t want her or anyone else to think that I am making a big deal out
of my own grief or asking for comfort.
Kristi, being the extraordinarily compassionate person that she is, has
already worried that this has been too hard for other people. So Kristi, my friend-but-practically-sister,
please don’t worry about me. In the end
you are the grieving one, you and your family, and I am a friend who is mostly
struggling because it breaks my heart that you have to go through this.
Still, I feel like I
need to go forward, at least to tell the rest of how that eternally long day
went. So here goes—picking back up
shortly after the hospital had given permission for the family to see Alex and
say goodbye.
Kristi decided at this
point to go and get at least Justin from school so he could say goodbye to his
dad also. I drove her to the school,
with our loving bishop following behind.
On the way, Kristi called the school to let them know and to ask if they
had a private room where she could tell the kids. They were also very shocked and supportive
and told her they would call Justin out of class, and there would be a
conference room she could use.
Justin was already waiting
in the office when we got there. I don’t
think he had the slightest clue—but when the bishop and I walked in the door as
well as his mom, he must have been worried and puzzled. While the bishop and Kristi went in the
conference room with him, I waited outside by the desk and answered the
questions of the administrators. They
were very concerned and stressed over and over that if I learned of any needs
at all to let them know so they could help.
Kristi poked her head out and asked them to get William from class as
well. When William arrived, he too was
surprised to see me. I said hi and he
smiled at me, and my heart just cracked wide.
I knew his world was going to change in a moment and it would never be
the same again.
Both boys wanted to go
back to the hospital and see their dad, but Kristi made the decision to leave
the twins at school. They are still very
young, and they wouldn’t understand what was really going on (especially
Jaxen). In the car everything was dead
silent. Kristi was still responding to
texts, and Justin and William—well, you can imagine. At the hospital, Kristi took Justin back
first and I sat with William and kept him company in the conference room until
Kristi was ready to bring him to say goodbye.
While the immediate family
had some alone time with Alex’s body, the bishop and Sheri and Terence and I
sat in the conference room and talked for a little while. Sheri had some practical questions—about what
help the church could provide, how the funeral would work, what decisions
Kristi would need to make. There was
some discussion about how to handle any problems that might crop up with
extended family. All of us wanted the
funeral and everything that would come with it to be as easy on Kristi and the
kids as possible.
Eventually the time the
hospital would allow for any last visiting was up. Kristi had to make a decision about what
funeral home she wanted to use so the hospital could contact them. And then it was time to go home. Without Alex.
By this time Nic seemed
like he would be able to drive so we switched out. Kristi and her boys would go home in her car,
while I would go home with Terence. I gave
Kristi a tight hug—she HATES hugs so this is probably one of the only times I
have ever dared—and then we left her to head home with her boys and have some
quiet processing time.
And as Terence and I
walked to our car, I turned to him and said, “Can I fall apart now?” He said
yes, and I promptly burst into the tears I had been holding back for hours,
finally allowing myself to grieve a bit and react to the stress.
I will miss Alex very
much. He was rough around the edges at
times (OK, a lot of the time) but he was so willing to go out of his way for
you. It was Alex who taught me how to change
the oil in my van (finally ordering me out of the way and doing it himself,
while letting me learn by observation).
It was Alex who taught me how to patch the enormous hole in the drywall
I created while ripping out the old bathroom vanity (and he mocked me good-naturedly
about the hole, too). It was Alex whose
baking I frequently got to sample, and Alex’s sharp humor that kept Terence and
I laughing on those rare times when we were able to just sit down and chat with
him.
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