The First Evening Without Andrew Part 1

One of the emptiest, most painful times of my life was the initial 24 hours after Andrew died.

We walked out of the hospital, in shock. We had left a hospital before without our son. But we had never left a hospital and known that we would not return to visit or get our son. The day was beautiful. It was around supper time. I remember breathing in the fresh air, looking up at the overhang and feeling so dead inside that I felt hollow.

Mark got the van. A good friend of ours, Trish, who had stood by us at the hospital for most of Andrew's last days, got my car. The pastor and his wife, who were at the hospital shortly after we left Andrew's hospital room for the last time, went to get their van to follow us home. We had asked them to come since we didn't know if we could handle going home to the apartment where our little special died. Or how we would tell our children or handle them coming home.

I remember repeating to myself that this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. I didn't want to have to deal with losing my precious boy. And yet here was that dreaded moment. "How am I going to do this now?" I said to myself.

For some reason, when Trish showed up, I got into the car and asked her to drive me home. Mark gave me a quizzical look. And I just hung my head down. It was too hard to walk to the car and get in. Trish told me it was just fine and she'd drive. She was great. Knew just what to say. Let us feel the non feeling, overwhelming pain that numbs you. So Mark headed out and Trish and the pastor followed him as I sat almost catatonic in the car.

I didn't want the boys to come home that night. I barely seemed to know how to walk. Forget about taking care of 3 boys.

We arrived at home. Trish was taken back to her car. She went to church to inform them of what had happened so that the congregation could pray for us and our boys. And Mark and I made our way up the 3 flights to our apartment with Sandra, the pastor's wife.

The apartment seemed so quiet. So still. So empty. It felt abandoned even though our belongings filled the place where they had been while Andrew was with us. It was eerie. Odd. Foreign. Uncomfortable.

As we walked down the hallway towards the dining room, I happened to look into the living room. I felt drugged up, heavy and had no joy in me. And then I caught a glimpse of Andrew's Pooh swing. It wasn't even a second and I immediately felt like I had been shot in the heart. Big, strong, solid tears dropped from my eyes and a cry began to rise from my stomach, through my heart and up my throat to my mouth. My lips trembled violently as my frown drew deeper lines down my chin. The room became blurred through the tears and I kept on walking even though I felt like I was now fifty pounds heavier.

I tried to gather myself and then got into the dining room where I saw his bouncy seat. And then I lost it and almost fell over. That was Andrew's. Only Andrew had used that seat. Grandma Jean had found it at a Good Will and washed it just for him. It sat there empty. A clear reminder that his little form would not rest in it again.

Gosh I can't do this. I can't remember this right now.