Random facts about Ryan....

~He was born on March 17, 1994 @ 10:45pm.
~The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck 2x, so they had to reach inside to cut it as he was in major distress.  He was purple/blue when born and immediately put on oxygen.  I always felt he was my "Miracle Baby" .......I still feel this way.
~He was a quiet, peaceful baby.
~He was a happy toddler, always smiling.
~He use to call Kaitie, "My Kaitie baby".
~He loved scrambled eggs for breakfast when he was small.  Had to have them every day!
~He always told me he would live with me forever.
~He loved playing by himself when he was little.
~He went camping for the first time at 3 months old.
~My dad use to call him "the camper."
~He always loved the outdoors.
~One time driving over St Helena Mountain, he stuck his head out the window and said, "Nature always makes me feel better."
~His brother, Sean, was always his hero.
~He loved all of his brothers and sisters.
~He loved family vacations.
~He loved to fly places in airplanes, but felt nervous, so always carried his bible on every trip we took.
~He always loved going to Disneyland.  We have taken many trips there.  As he got older, he would take off with his older siblings while we were there, and really loved that.
~He loved his bed because I put two memory foam pads on it for him.
~He loved his bedroom, and even helped Russ a bit in building it.
~He fell in love with Hawaii when I took the kids in 2008.  He always wanted to go back.  We were planning to do that again next year.
~He loved swimming with the dolphins in Hawaii.
~He ate 2 pizza hot pockets every night before he went to bed.  Sometimes he would add a ChimiChanga.
~He ate a ham and cheese hot pocket for breakfast...loved it with a little OJ.
~He loved Steak and Baked Potatoes.
~He was very humble.
~He was very intelligent.
~He did not think he was anything special...just another person doing the best they could do.
~He did not judge people....he accepted everyone for who they were.
~He honestly loved all his friends unconditionally.
~He was a "mama's boy" and proud of it.  I was proud of it too.
~He could not stand it if I was crying...it would often make him cry too.
~He talked to me about everything, even the hard stuff.
~He use to tell me, and I use to tell him,  that he and I were alike in many ways and that's why we "got" each other.
~His little sister, Breanna, could make him smile when he was in his worst moods.
~He loved basketball...it was his passion and he was gifted on the court.
~He loved watching ESPN.
~He played one year of Football as a sophmore, and was moved to the Varisty team during the year.
~He loved watching the Wizard of Oz....he never outgrew it and would always let me know when it was on.
~He loved Christmas and the way the house looked and felt.
~He loved the Christmas Lights and outside decorations.  He would always tell me if I needed to add something to make it better.  Two years ago he said it was perfect.  I have never changed it since.
~He believed in God.
~He highlighted passages in his bible....all having to do with not judging others, not critisizing others, loving your enemies, and loving everyone the way we are told to love.  He lived out each and every passage he highlighted.
~He was carefree at times.
~He was a perfectionist.
~He would only let me cut his hair...he said I did it better then any place he could go.
~His spirit was gentle, tender, and giving.
~His heart was open, generous, nurturing, accepting, and completely loving.
~He knew how proud I was of him.
~He was my baby, my little boy, my Ryan....and he knew how much I loved him.

Frozen In Time....

It's been just over a month since I lost Ryan,and although life has moved forward for others, I feel frozen in time.  When you lose someone you love, you usually pause in time to grieve, but eventually you join the world again in moving forward.  When your child dies, time freezes, and when the big world, your family and friends, all start moving forward again, somehow you are not a part of it anymore.  You just don't feel like you belong, or are a part of what you once were.  Unfortunately, I have experienced the loss of many people I love dearly, but never have I experienced a loss like this.  Your child is a part of you, someone you gave life to, loved unconditionally.... so when they leave, a very large part of you goes with them.  Your heart and soul are forever changed.  You don't know who you are, what it all means, or where you go from here.

The only place I feel safe and comfortable right now is within my home.  Perhaps because Ryan lived, loved, and laughed here.  Perhaps because he died within these walls, in the room Russ built just for him.  Perhaps because his ashes are on my dresser, surrounded by pictures, gifts he made and wrote for me, and his baby book.  Perhaps because I am simply not ready, or able, to face the world again without him.

I don't know when I will be ready.  I only hope and trust when the time comes, I will know the time is here.  I am listening to my heart and following my instincts, trying so hard to take care of myself in this brokenness.  If ever I needed to take care of myself, now is the time.  I am still in shock and disbelief.  I just can't believe this is happening most of the time.  Maybe shock is God's way of protecting my heart from the unbearable pain, of this devastating reality.  Maybe I am not ready to fully face that pain yet.  I don't know.  Little pieces of this reality are all I can take at a time, I do know that.  I also know, for now, all I can do is try to get through each day, write in this blog to help me explore and release my heart's feelings, and continue to talk to Ryan, asking him to help me.... all the while, watching the world go on without me....as I stand frozen in time.

Ryan's Journal Entry....

About a week or two after Ryan died, I decided to open his backpack and empty it out.  This is the only thing I have done so far...one step at a time I keep saying.  In the front of his school binder were loose papers, which were journal entries, I'm assuming for his English class.  I read through them all, so grateful to have little pieces of Ryan's heart and mind.  Treasures to keep, knowing they were his recent thoughts and feelings on various topics.  One of the journals sent chills through me...it was written just days before he died.

"I ve been thinking about what I want to do before I die for a long time.  I've come to a conclusion that there are three specific things that I feel like I need to do before I die.  The first thing I want to do is go skydiving.  I'm into big thrills and I don't know of anything more accelerating then jumping out of an airplane.  The only thing is that you have to be eighteen to be able to do it, so I'm hoping I make it past eighteen.  The second thing I want to do before I die is to travel the world.  I've never been out of the U.S. and I'm interested in what other countries are like.  The third thing that I want to do before I die is to get a meaningful tatoo.  Probably something to do with my mom."

Interesting enough, immediately after Ryan died his dad and two older brothers, Jeremy and Sean, got a tattoo in honor of Ryan..."a meaningful tatoo."  Since Ryan mentioned his tatoo probably would have something to do with me, I am also thinking of some small tatoo I could get to honor my little boy, giving to him what I know he wanted to give to me.  Ryan's sister and brother (Shawndre and Sean) plan to live out Ryan's dream and go skydiving one day soon.  I will go with them so I can share in their bittersweet moments of living out their little brother's dream for him,  and so I can tell them how incredibly proud I am that they would do that for Ryan.  Ryan's little sister, Kaitie, asked how she could live out a dream.   I told her that Ryan wanted to travel so perhaps she could be the one that traveled for him, which seemed to make her happy.   Ryan knew I traveled to many countries when I was in college, but this is something I never knew he wanted to do as well.  I am so grateful Ryan has brothers and sisters with loving and giving hearts....hearts that completely love their brother, and love him so much, they are determined to make sure his dreams are fullfilled.  And I know Ryan would have done the same for each of them.  However, I am also just consumed with sadness that my Ryan wasn't given the opportunity, or the time, to live out his own dreams. 

Memories and Emptiness....

Today has been very hard.  When I stop and allow myself to feel, it is almost overwhelming.  It seems it would be easier to always surround myself with people to distract me, but I know I need to be with the intense lonliness I feel as well.  A very isolated, lonely, and frightening place to be.  People say to think of the good times, the happy memories, and that will help me.  I understand the idea of that, but it's not always the reality.  Right now, in this moment in time, those very memories that brought so much joy to my heart, bring nothing but emptiness and tears.  I miss Ryan and there is nothing that makes that better, nothing that lightens the heartache I feel.  I miss my everyday interactions with my little boy.  The hugs, the talks, the laughter, him asking me to cut his hair all the time, asking when dinner is ready, asking for a ride somewhere, his friends coming over as they all ate the night away, his honesty in sharing things with me, his genuine concern if he saw me cry, his need to somehow make my tears turn into laughter again, his footsteps down the hall each night as he came to wash his face, the way he would so freely tell me he loved me, the way he would smile when I told him, his playfulness, his perfectionist side, his carefree attitude, his ever growing confidence in himself, watching him ride his bike down the street as he headed to friends, his sweet voice, and his beautiful face, with big blue eyes, that I love so much.  One day all these memories may bring joy again, but for now, all they bring are emptiness, tears, and a gut wrenching need to have my Ryan home with me again.

*God's Will vs My Own....

My entire life I have questioned God's Will for me, for my family, and for my life.  There have been so many times I had a plan, the way I felt my life should go.  Sometimes life would move that direction, other times God had another plan.  Needless to say, His plan always prevailed, even if I was kicking and screaming!  I have always tried to do what I felt was right, what I felt God wanted me to do, even if I didn't agree.  Sometimes His message was gentle, other times it hit like a bolt of lightening.  This is one of those latter times!  But this is, by far, the most heart piercing plan I have ever been asked to walk through.

I know in my heart losing Ryan was part of God's plan...I know that because of the dream I had.  I constantly remind myself of that, as it's the only glimmer of sanity I can find in my otherwise shattered life.  I can not understand why God would take my baby from me at such a young age?  Why my Ryan?  Why does He want me to walk this unbearable, painful journey?  Why has He chosen me?   How do I survive this and ever feel joy in my heart again?  His plan has broken me.  

The battle rages in my heart.  I know there is a reason, and I also know we are told not to question His will.  But when your child is taken from your arms, you WILL question.  Not only do you question, you want answers!  Despite these feelings, I question with an open heart.  I am desperate for answers, and open to any good, any blessing, that can come from the death of my young boy.  God's will was not mine this time....and this is the most painful, demanding, and seemingly impossible thing God has ever asked of me.  Again, I ask....why has He chosen me?

*Relentless Questioning....

When you lose someone, anyone, you are often left with questions of how you could have changed things, prevented things, or done things differently.  When you lose a child, the questions are relentless, cutting so sharply into your heart.  Whether it's an accident, a suicide, or natural causes, as a mother you are flooded with questions.  As a mother your job is to love, nurture,and protect your child from harm.  When they die...somehow you have failed them.  Ryan died of acute hemorrhagic pancreatitis.  The medical examiner told me he could not have eaten dinner if this had started before bed.  In his opinion, Ryan had a perfectly healthy pancreas, and in a matter of several hours, it had failed him.  He assured me there was nothing I could have done, or no way to know.  My first question to the Dr, as I cried in fear,...was he hurting?  As his mom, I couldn't handle the idea that my little boy was hurting and I was not there to help him.  To hold him.  No one can say for sure, but it is assumed because his pancreas was failing, his sugar levels went so high he probably went into a coma and didn't know what was happening.  As much as my head tells me this is probably true, my heart still questions.  Was there something I could have done?  Did he know what was happening?  Was he scared?  Why didn't my motherly instincts tell me something was wrong?  Why didn't they tell me my baby had died?  My son died alone, in his bed, and I find that very hard.  In my head I know he wouldn't have chosen a different place.  He loved his room, his bed, and living with me.  He has told me this many times.  I just need my heart to embrace what my head knows already, but for whatever reason, this is not easy to do.  The questions run relentlessly through my heart.  I know we all wish we could have a peaceful death...to die in our sleep sounds like a gift.  But in my heart, a mother's heart, my baby was alone and I wish I could have been holding him as he went from my arms into my dad's.  Hold him in My love, as God took him into His.

*One month later....

October 22, 2010 marked the one month anniversary of Ryan's death.  Anxiety and sadness were building as the day quickly approached.  Where had the month gone?  Why did I still feel in shock after all this time?  Was I ever going to be OK again?  I wondered how I was suppose to feel that day?  I knew I needed to somehow pay respect to Ryan, to let him see us all pouring our love out to him, yet do it in a way that would be healing for his brothers and sisters.  I then thought of balloons.  Russ went out that morning and bought 2 heart shaped, glittery balloons, with the words I LOVE YOU written on them.  I decided we would all write notes to Ryan and then send them off to heaven.  The little kids were very excited when I told them...they were sending Ryan a present.  The older kids understood the symbolism and were just as excited.  Sean, Bianca, Shawndre, Jay, Kaitie, Annabel, Breanna, Julian, Crissy, Danny, Russ, and myself all wrote notes to Ryan on the balloons.  Some tears were shed as they wrote, some smiles.  We went outside around 8:30 with balloons in hand.  Doing it when it was dark was probably better as it would not have been good if a balloon popped or was caught in a tree!  The moon gave just enough light for us to watch them fly up, until darkness took them away.  We all gathered in our backyard, the younger kids all holding on to the balloons with me, and at the count of three....we all let go and sent them to heaven.  We all watched with squinting eyes to see them as long as we could.  I said at one point, "I can't see them anymore", at which time my 4 year old said..."Maybe Jesus caught them for Ryan."  She took my breath away, and when I caught it again, I assured her that Jesus probably did catch them.

Whispers from God....

During the past month, God has whispered to me many times.  I have always been one to have dreams, to see things, to hear the message I felt was being sent.  I have felt God talk to me through other people, through music, through written words, through nature, through rainbows, through dreams.  I have had some powerful dreams!  My relationship with God has been alive, distant, gentle, turbulant, but always there.  No matter how deep the hurt, I always believed.  No matter how far away I pushed Him, I knew he was there waiting. 

I have never been good at asking for help, no matter what the circumstances.  But this time, I have been broken to a place where I am more then willing to accept help.  I have been broken to a place where I feel helpless.  People are reaching out and giving so freely and selflessly, that is amazes me.  What amazes me more, is my ability to accept it.  For the first time in my life, I am accepting from others without question, simply gratitude.  If you know me, you know this is not typical for me.  It's easy to give, hard to receive.  I am also taking things very slowly as I know one step at a time is all I can handle.  I have never been one to look after myself the way I should, but I find myself doing that very thing I never knew how to do.  God has taken me down to my knees with pain, and down here is where I have learned to care for myself and accept from others. 

During the past month, the longest month of my life, I have had whispers from God, whispers from Ryan, whispers from my dad.  Just enough to give me hope, to keep my faith alive, and to help me get out of bed each day.  The first whisper was the dream I had about my dad before Ryan died.  I think of that dream often, it helps me understand that there was a plan, even if I can't accept or understand it.  It simply reminds me that my little boy is in heaven with my Dad now, even though I wish he was here.  I turn to the dream often just for comfort. 

On the Friday when my family saw Ryan that last time (and I thought my last time), I had pleaded with Ryan to let me know he was happy and OK.  That night I went to the Middletown HS vigil for Ryan.  They gave me a candle, with a card attached to the candle, which basically said, "Perhaps the stars are openings in the sky for our loved ones to shine down and let us know they are HAPPY."  To top it off, at the end of the vigil, they ended by playing Amazing Grace, which was one of my dad's favorite songs.  I knew again my dad was with him, and he was letting me know it loud and clear. 

I have also seen numerous heart shapes in the clouds and sky.  Not a shape I have ever seen in the sky before, but I see it often now.  Ryan use to say "One Love, One Heart" so I know the hearts are Ryan letting me know he is happy and watching over us.  He knows One Love now.  

Rainbows have always been a sign for me, and sent in my most painful moments, filling me with hope.  This has happened for years.  One evening couple of weeks ago I received a text, and at the time didn't know who it was from.  It had a picture of Jesus, and then a song started playing....."If I die young, bury me in satin.  Lay me down on a bed of Roses.  Sink me in a river, at dawn, send me away with the words of a love song.  Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother.  She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors..."  The song cut off right there.  I knew it was another whisper, well actually, it was more like someone yelling!
 I tracked down that song and put it on the CD for the memorial.  

When I was working on the slideshow I had a lot of anxiety about it coming together perfectly....hoping Ryan would like it.  One night I had a dream.  In front of me was the computer with the slide show, the projector, and off in the distance was Ryan dancing, looking at me, and singing "that's for me."  I woke up immediately after he sang that....I knew he was letting me know he was watching and he approved! 

Then the night before the one month anniversary of Ryan's death, I pleaded with God to let me know what time Ryan died.  As a mother, I needed to know.  I know it was sometime before Russ found him, and I just needed that answer.  That night I had a dream.  I was walking along a road with tons of mailboxes.  On each box were the numbers for the house I suppose.  As I walked and looked at all the numbers I was passing, all of a sudden everything started to get dark, and a light shone down from the sky, lighting up 3 numbers.  I knew instantly this was the time Ryan had died.  I woke up the next morning, the anniversary of his death, 1 minute before he had died.

These are the whispers I speak of.  The shimmers of light which let me know that God knows I am hurting and He hears me.  The promise He will carry me through this.  The shimmers of light which let me know Ryan is watching and pouring his love over me.  The shimmers of light which tell me my dad is with my baby now.  Although I am so grateful for each whisper heard, and know I will plead for more, there is still nothing I want more then to have my Ryan back home with me.  The whispers from God, as powerful and beautiful as they are, do not take away the pain of a mother who has lost her child.  Perhaps this is a pain which will never go away.  A loss I will never get over, but perhaps learn to get through.

Working on the Memorial kept me breathing....

On September 25, 2010 I was already working on plans for the Memorial.  I needed a reason to breathe, and honoring my little boy in the way I felt he deserved to be honored, kept me breathing for the next 3 weeks.  The first thing I did was write a poem for his Memorial Card.  It poured out of my heart in the late hours of the night, so I typed it up and checked one job off the list.   Next was finding a place to hold the Memorial, which ended up being at the church I took Ryan to when we lived in Santa Rosa.  He loved that church...it was very alive and nurturing.  That job was done. 

Now for the date....after many calls to and from the church, the date which we came up with was October 15....the anniversary of the death of my grandmother (my dad's mom).  My dad completely loved his mother, and she loved him.  I think they shared the kind of love Ryan and I shared.  Since my dad came to get Ryan in my dream, I knew this date was somehow part of the plan.   I'm not sure what it all means, or the reasons God has, but I know this date was part of the plan He already had laid out.

Back to work......Ryan's dad agreed to take care of the food, working with the church, so that was something I didn't have to worry about.  I just told him I wanted LOTS of food as Ryan would love that....my boy LOVED eating!   I started collecting pictures from a photo album I had made for Ryan.  I had started one for each of my kids when they were born, so that when they were adults, I could give them an album or two of themselves during their early years.  My daughter, Shawndre, came over one night and together we picked pictures from these albums.  I then moved to all the pictures I had on the computer, as well as going through photos that his dad's girlfriend had given me.  I literally spent hours choosing photos, arranging them, and picking the perfect songs to send my little boy off with.  Love songs from me to him, yet songs that would hold meaning to all who cared to listen.  Most important, I knew Ryan would be listening and he would know why each song was chosen and why pictures played as they did.  Honoring Ryan was all I cared about during these three weeks.  Since meaningful music was carrying my heavy heart, I decided to make a CD to play prior to the service and at the reception.  I took songs from everywhere, and everyone, one again choosing songs that spoke from my heart.  The last thing to do was write my eulogy.  This was the hardest thing I have ever written.  What do I say?  Will I be able to even speak?  All I knew is I had to do this...I had to do it for Ryan, and from that powerful love is where my strength came.  The memorial was beautiful.  There were about 500 people there, once again, from all walks of life.   The tributes to Ryan were all beautiful and heartfelt.  Tears were shed, hearts ached.  The slideshow came off beautifully.  There was an abundance of food for everyone, which is how Ryan would have wanted it.  We honored Ryan just as I wanted it to be.  I couldn't have sent him off with any more love or respect.   I was grateful to all who came, to all who helped, to God for guiding me through the past 3 weeks, and to Ryan, for standing beside me as I spoke of him.  I asked him to help me get through it, and he did.  My baby was there for me.

The next day when I awoke I was filled with emptiness and sadness.  I gave my baby everything I had.....now I was left with the reality that he was gone.  I was broken.  I am broken.

Candlelight Vigils....

The day Ryan died, Piner High School held a candlelight vigil in the parking lot.  There must have been 200 kids there with candles.  They shared stories, memories, nicknames given to them by Ryan, and above all, they shared about Ryan's heart.  I heard stories of Ryan reaching out to kids hurting, kids who were new to the school, and kids he had never met before.  These kids talked about my boy for 90 minutes!  In the crowd were people from all walks of life.  Ryan did not care about grades, the crowd someone hung out in, race, or gender.  He saw into each person's heart and was friends with everyone.  All you had to do was look into the crowd of people and you instantly knew what kind of heart Ryan had.  The same thing held true Friday night, when they had a candlelight vigil for Ryan at Middletown High School.  About 100 kids, again very diverse in population.  He loved WITHOUT passing judgement on others....I know so many adults who could learn an important lesson from Ryan!   Ryan loved others the way we are told to love....the way we are called to love.   A 16 year old who walked around telling everyone "One Love."  He believed in God, in peace, in brotherhood, in union, in love, and in each person's heart.  I knew my baby had a good and loving heart, I just didn't know he was touching so many with his love. 

I NEEDED to see him one last time....

When your baby dies, nothing is right.  So many decisions to make, so quickly they need to be made, and planning for your child in death is something you never think about.  Nor should you have to.

We decided to cremate Ryan, which was a choice I knew was right.  Just before Mother's Day, we lost our dog, Ryan's dog, Lucky.  I was going to bury him in our backyard but Ryan had a violent reaction to this.  He thought it was depressing to bury him in the ground and asked if we could cremate him and bring the ashes home.  To him this was the right way to handle things.  I honored his wishes, but in retrospect, I somehow feel he was laying out his own wishes for the future.  I honored his wishes again.

I had the urgency to see my little boy one last time.  I needed to see him in the last spot his body would be upon this earth.  This happened to be at the foot of the crematory, but it didn't matter, I needed to see him one last time.

My mom went with me.  It was not easy, by any means.  Laying on him were the two roses my sister had bought for her and I to give him.  In his pocket, a note from his brother.  I put his report card in his pocket...a 3.5 GPA which would have gotten him his driver's license.  I was so proud, so I wrote a note on it for him.  I was also so sad as he didn't get to celebrate what he told me he was going to do....get his license.  I also put a copy of the poem I had written him in his pocket. 

As I stood there, tears just streamed down my face.  I held his hand, ran my hands through his gorgeous hair, rubbed his thick eyebrows, and held his beautiful face in my hands for the last time.  My little boy was gone and I could not wrap my head around this.  The pain was all consuming.  I turned to walk out, and as I did, I heard the squeek of the door opening....the door which led to my little boy's cremation.  My heart dropped.  I will never forget that sound, but more so, I will never forget my little boy lying there, lifeless, as I held his face in my hands.  Again I wonder...how is a mother suppose to do this?

The physical goodbyes....

September 24, 2010 was the day that my family saw Ryan for the last time here on earth.  I went early so I could dress him.  I was the first person in his life to dress him and felt a very strong need to be the last.  Seeing the scars from the autopsy was not easy, but I was taking care of my little boy, so I endured.  It was very important for me that that his brothers and sisters not see the scars and see the brother they love, so I dressed him in a black tshirt and a pair of jean shorts.  He looked just like my Ryan always looked, in a sad sort of way.  Before everyone got there I had Fr Ryan, an old family friend, come and bless my baby.  He prayed over him, blessed him, and we prayed together.  Ryan would have liked that.  When the family came in there were tears, anguish, hugs, dispair....a pain I could not take away or make better.  We all were carrying it, in our own ways.  Each person took their turn and went up to be with Ryan and say whatever their heart needed to say.  Very tender moments for each person, very painful, very private.  I went up when everyone left and spent time with my baby.  How was a mother suppose to walk away and leave her child with strangers?  How was I suppose to go home, knowing he would not be there?  How was I to leave him knowing I would never hold him again or hear his sweet voice?  How is a mother suppose to do this?

The day my life changed forever.

It was September 22, 2010.  The day started like any other, but events would unfold which would forever change the woman I am.  At 9:35 am I received a phone call that literally took my breath away.  My husband was on the phone, sobbing, telling me that Ryan was not breathing.  The first thing I asked him was if Ryan felt cold....the answer shook my soul.  I remember bending over in anguish, saying "I can't do this" as my friend stood by to be sure I could.  We immediately left the classroom and she drove me towards home, not knowing where they would take Ryan.  On that drive, the longest drive of my life, I talked to my husband numerous times. Each time he informed me they were still working on Ryan and finally told me where they would be taking him.  I then called Ryan's dad and brother, who immediately were on their way.  We arrived at the hospital before Ryan, so I waited for the ambulance.  I will never forget the sound of the distant sirens, knowing they were sounding so they could bring me my son.  As I watched the ambulance pull in, I walked to the doors so I could see my baby.  They pulled him out, while I watched them continue to push his chest and pump breaths into his lifeless body.  I will never forget that image.  Within 10 minutes, a doctor came out in tears, and told me they couldn't save him.  I knew in my heart he had died prior to arriving, so this news confirmed my instincts.  I immediately went in to see him.  A breathing tube still inserted, he lay there, motionless.  I could not believe this was happening.  Not My Ryan....

I remembered a dream I had 2 nights before and knew the answer to my question was right in front of me.  I had a dream with my dad, who had died almost 12 years ago.  I have often asked to dream of him, as I wanted so badly to see him again.  But in all these years, not one dream blessed my sleep.  On September 19, my dad came to me.  There was a white door in front of me.  I opened the door, and there stood my dad.  In my dream I did not know he was dead, but I did have the incredible of feelings of joy when I saw him.  He stood smiling at me, in his usual attire, hair combed nicely, as if he were going to church.  I remember looking at him and thinking how wonderful he looked.  He had never looked better and in my eyes, was actually radiating beauty.  It was amazing.  I invited him in to "meet our newest one" and picked a baby off a bed.  I laid the baby in his arms, he smiled, and I woke up.  For the next 2 days I tried to figure out who I was handing to my dad, as I knew the dream meant something.  As I stood and looked at my Ryan in the hospital, I realized instantly I had placed my baby, Ryan, into my dad's arms.

I went outside, and again, I phoned his dad in route.  I will never forget the painful cries I heard from their car as I shared what had happened. I called my mom, who immediately went to my house to take care of the younger kids.   I waited outside, as my husband was bringing Kaitie, and I needed to tell her what happened.  When they pulled in, she walked towards me in fear, and I told her.  She began crying and I held her in her pain, trying so hard not to show my own.  My friend took my girls home and I went back in to be with Ryan.   I cried, I touched his soft face, rubbed his thick hair I loved so much, lifted his eyelids so I could look into his eyes one last time, and held his hand.  Tears streamed down my face as I sat there in total disbelief.  Shortly after, Ryan's dad, his girlfriend, and my 20 year old arrived.  My son was so angry, yelling at the nurses for not doing their job.  His pain, as he looked at his brother lying there, was piercing to my heart.   He went outside, and my husband followed him.  We took care of "the business" that needed to be taken care of, and we went home.  Home to a house full of family, friends, love, and support.  Some of  his friends stopped by, in painful tears.  I held them all, somehow finding strength within so I could comfort them.  They were so loving, so hurt, so young.  When they left, I went into my house so full of people, yet it felt so empty.   I was forever a changed woman.