David and I went to a remembrance ceremony last night. It was at the hospital where Ariella had most of her treatment. You may be wondering how I could go to the hospital after my last post. I have actually been to the hospital a couple of times since Ariella died (before visiting the person the other day) to give out bears and it was okay. I’m not sure why the difference but it was being in the hospital room that was the trigger for me. This ceremony was held in a different building from the main hospital. We had been in this room before, for a party, but it wasn’t the same trigger as being in the cold, sterile, clinical, hospital room.
The ceremony was to honor children who have died, who were treated at that hospital. Doctors, nurses, social workers, and child life were all there along with all the families that chose to attend. Seeing the doctors and nurses who cared for Ariella made me long for the days when Ariella was in the clinic pulling her pranks. The days that seemed so long and so difficult were actually a breeze compared to life now. I realize now the things I worried about even then just didn’t matter. Ariella missing school, not finishing assignments, missing tests. None of it mattered in the end. Even at the time I knew it though, actually. When you have a child with cancer it’s always in the back of your mind that they might die. What does school matter if she doesn’t survive in the end? But that was one of the things we had some control over. We could make sure she attended when possible and made up missed work. Being in school gave her the semblance of a normal life and allowed her to be with her friends. So really it did matter, but not in the way of grades and whatnot. And if we didn’t worry about those things it would have felt like we were losing hope. And we never lost hope. Not until the bitter end.
The ceremony was nice. There were different readings and they read the names of children who died, whether the families were present or not. We were given stones to put in a bowl when our child’s name was read, and to honor any other child we knew as well. So many names. So many. Too many. One is too many. And these doctors and nurses and social workers and child life were up and down putting stones in the bowl for all of their patients. I don’t know how they do it. They choose it. They choose to work in a profession where they will experience a lot of tragic loss. They get to know these kids, for years in some cases, love these kids, do whatever they can for them, and then make it a point to remember them after they have died. They are very often the bearers of bad news and have to look in parents’ eyes and tell them there is nothing more that can be done. They are in the profession because they want to help and in the process they experience a whole lot of hurt. I don’t think I could choose a job where kids I get to know and love often die.
It wasn’t right to be among the hospital staff without Ariella there. This is not how it’s supposed to be. None of this is right. Everything is surreal. Nothing is as it should be and never will be again. There was some comfort to be had to be surrounded by others in similar circumstances even though I didn’t really talk to others. It just wasn’t in me last night to share stories. But I do feel less lonely when among people understand. And there is hope there too. Because as we were sitting in our seats waiting to start there was a lot of chatter going on with a good bit of laughter. Normal conversation. Like things were almost okay.
My Granddaughter Kelsey, who is also my daughter Wendy’s niece will be working in ER as a Nurse, at Johns Hopkins the beginning of December. She too followed your daughter and attended recitals and competitions when she could. When one of Kelsey’s friends was doing a internship at JHH, Kelsey would ask her friend to check on Ariella.
A friend that I recently met and became friends with in our community in DE this past year. Also followed Ariella, on fb, her name is Judy. She still ask if I hear how you are doing etc. she too lost a child. I just recently learned he had the same cancer as Ariella. Judy said, I know what Ariella Mom is going through I was a little more fortunate because I still have two sons., which really helped because I had to go on with my life and had to be strong for them. So many people that you never met was praying for Ariella and your family. She touched so many people who really cared! Nothing in this world is going to replace her or take your heart ache away. But I just wanted you to know so many people cared and still do!
❤️🙏🏻🌈
Thank you for sharing that.
I agree – none of this is right. I too have found some comfort in being around people who have very unfortunately suffered the same type of loss. It’s all horrible but I do feel a little less alienated and more hopeful when I’m with the grief group.