I wish I could bring him back for you

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In the diabetes online community, the appearance of a blue candle suggests that someone has lost their life to diabetes.  Its a time of sorrow.  Its a time to hug our loved ones a little closer. Its a time to test a little more often and then we move on.

Last week I received a message that made my heart stop.

I headed over to a friend’s Facebook page.

I saw the blue candle.

I couldn’t breathe.

I read her post.

The tears began to flow.

Through the tears I sent a message to my friend.  She confirmed my worst fears with her words “I just want him back.”

“Oh, I wish I could bring him back for you!”

That’s what I replied through the tears.  I was numb.  The blue candle was no longer for a stranger who could have been my child.  This candle was for a child that I had watched grow through our online communications. This was happening to a friend who had been there for me through highs and lows of  16 years with diabetes.  I wished I could bring her son back to her.  The pain was too much for me, I couldn’t begin to imagine how she was feeling. It hurt too much to try.

No mother should bury their child. We shouldn’t have to mourn for those who have yet to have fully enjoyed their lives. There is something fundamentally wrong with that. It makes our hearts ache.

When we hear of a child lost, we hurt but we push it away. It happens to other people.  It is horrible but it happens to other people.  But what about when it doesn’t? What about when it hits your family?

Last week it hit my family and the pain is still fresh.

15 +years ago, I became connected to the internet.  I reached out to find “parents of children with diabetes”.  I found an information email list, or so I thought.  What I really found was a family.

I found people, some that I would meet, some that I would talk to on the phone, and some that I would never know beyond the keystrokes of a keyboard. All of them would become family.  They would be by my side through the good times and the bad.  They would understand diabetes –its peaks and valleys but they would also understand me.  They would be there for me at all hours from around the globe.  They were Friends for Life–they were family.

Over the years, some of those connections have been neglected.  Our children have grown.  Some of  the children have become parents themselves.  We watched each other’s lives on Facebook and occasionally wished each other well.

Other connections remain strong. We reach out regularly.  We still see each other. We have kept in contact and fondly look back on where we have been.

No matter whether we are close or drifted when tragedy strikes, we are all one big family again. One family united by pain.  One family sobbing with each other.  One family holding each other in virtual hugs with real tears.

Tragedy isn’t supposed to hit us. Not a direct hit. Not taking a child that we “knew” and watched grow but it has.  And it hurts like no other.

I know that the pain will fade for some of us.  It will dull a little for my friend but that missing piece will never be replaced.  I am lucky.  In 16 years, my son has stayed quite healthy.  In all of this time, I have only known of one person–whom I had met, spoken with, and been friends with, who had died because of diabetes. Now there are two.

I don’t want there to be any more.  We need a cure.  We need better access to treatments.  We need more awareness. We need more…

We will continue to work harder. We will bike more. We will walk more. We will advocate louder.

Our hope will remain.

We came together because of diabetes.  We stayed together because of an incredible friendship that knows no borders.  I pray that one day we will celebrate a life without diabetes.  Until then, hug your loved one a little closer today.  Send prayers and strength to the families who have lost someone during our fight. I am grateful to each of you who have become such an important part of my life.

 

 

Swept away and retired to a desk

Today’s prompt for Diabetes Blog Week asks what is that one thing that we are still clinging on to that we need to let go? What in our diabetes closet needs to be cleaned out?

Honestly, I was going to use a wildcard for this one. I thought it didn’t apply to me any longer.  Diabetes does not live with my full time any more so what could I possibly need to junk out? We cleaned out most of my son’s diabetes supplies when he moved.  Anything left here he needs when he visits. Obviously this was a topic that I was going to have to give a miss. Or maybe not….

sweeping up
Sweeping out the old

There is something that I have been working on for…cough, cough, almost….two…cough…years.  It is something that I need to let go of, clean out, sweep away. My challenge is to sweep away that need to know all and me hands on 100% of the time.  It is now physically impossible and thinking otherwise is emotionally draining.

I have to adjust to the role of no longer being that person in charge. Learning my new role as the person standing in the office listening to what is going on in the trenches but removed from the actual events is a huge challenge.

I no longer have to wake up at various times during the night to test my son. That has its own guilt.  I still wake up through the night out of habit but as time has gone on, I no longer wake in a panic wondering if he is okay and if he is testing.

I have gotten better at having him text me readings.  Originally I wanted to know every reading.  I would stay up to all hours just so that we could talk and he could tell me what his readings had been like.  That didn’t work. He did his best to be busy when I wanted to call and talk.  I had to get rid of that need to know. I had to learn that it was now truly his disease.

We still talk daily.  I don’t know his readings from day to day.  He calls me when he has a problem. We troubleshoot issues together.  I still work on being okay with the fact that I don’t know his A1c.  I still struggle with not being able to hook him up to the technology that I want him to use.  Sweeping out the DMomma who is hands on and replacing her with the DMomma who is just there to help out when things get a little messy or he needs a break has truly been my biggest challenge.

As I have have been swept out of the trenches, I found myself struggling to understand my place on the sidelines.  I worried that I had not prepared him enough. I worried that I would not matter any more. I worried that I would no longer have a role in that community of diabetes parents that had been my home for so many years.

Just like cleaning our house can give you a new perspective, cleaning out my role as a DMomma did as well.  I have seen my son thrive on his own. I have seen him put to use what he has been taught and develop his own confidence.  Standing back has allowed me a new role in the diabetes community and in my son’s life…and its not that bad!