It’s been six months today since my son, Jaren, died of a massive heart attack. The fact that half a year has passed has done little to alleviate the loss, although I can now write the words, “Jaren is dead” without crumbling.
In the case of the death of one’s child, I don’t think time heals. Much like an amputee, the edges of the missing part of me have scarred enough to tolerate the many times a day I bump up against memory, pick at regret and finger possibilities forever gone, but gone is gone and phantom pain hurts.
Jaren was the smartest and funniest person I have ever known, and the privilege of being his mother for 38 years I will carry for the rest of my life. Only 38 years is an unbearable shame nothing can change. Nothing.
Only recently, I received a copy of the autopsy report, something I had been waiting months for. No parent should ever have to read such a document, but for me it was a necessary part of the process I must go through to come to some understanding of the events that led to such a horrible conclusion.
I didn’t really need to know how much his brain weighed or the contents of his stomach, but that’s the sort of information the coroner’s office provides, so I know all that now. I also know that my son had a 98% blockage in the same place my coronary artery was clogged before an emergency bypass extended my stay on the planet in 1999.
I was told at the time mine was discovered that I had a one-to-30 day probability of a fatal heart attack, and from that moment until the surgery the following day I was not allowed to do as much as raise my head.
Jaren had been suffering from intense angina, and the night before he died worked his usual shift pushing drinks at the Liquid Kitty. On his feet for hours, he mentioned to his buddy behind the bar with him that his left arm and neck were “killing him”.
Perhaps it was too late then. Maybe if he’d had the option of seeing a doctor, the bypass he needed would not have been possible. But …
If he’d had health coverage, medication to control cholesterol and his diabetes would have been provided for years, and the routine operation that reroutes blood through the heart would have happened when needed. Other health issues could have also been addressed, and he wouldn’t have felt so alone, so on his own, so without options.
Jaren never asked for help. Any questions about his welfare were always answered with an “I’m fine”, and although he always went the extra mile for anyone in his life who needed him to do that, he did not do it for himself, nor request it of anyone else.
The list of “should haves” for me is longer than I can look at in one sitting, so I pick and choose and wish I had done different things and had one more chance.
I miss my son. The world … not just my world, but the whole damned thing … is poorer without his smile, his gentleness, his humor and his amazing intelligence.
If there’s one thing I would ask on his behalf now, it would be that universal health care in America becomes a reality.
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 
Love him. Yes. Miss him. Yes. Know how much he love and pride he felf for his mother? Absolutely.
Sis, he knew beyond a shadow of any doubt he was the worlds most beautiful and cherished “ugly” baby. When Jaren and I talked on his birthday, all he talked about was you. (well, you and Sushi and Sashimi …)
I love you.
Sis
Thanks, Sis. I miss him.
Thank you for sharing this, Sandra. I can’t believe it’s been 6 months. I am without words, but am always thankful that you find them. Thinking of you. Thinking of Jaren.
Hi Sandra:
I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. As a mother, I don’t even know how you are to get through this, but I’m praying that your heart will one day be healed, as much as possible, that is.
As a person with a genetic heart condition, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, I know all-too well, how important proper medical care is to one’s own survival.
Thank you for sharing, and I pray that you are comforted in your time of need.
Wishing you the best,
Ms. No Single Mama Drama
xoxoxox
I read your comment on my blog and followed you to this post. I can tell that you really loved your son. I don’t know if you are a religious person but I hope you believe me when I tell you that you can be with him again, if you choose to. Families can be together forever…even beyond death. This life really is but a spec in time. You will be with him again soon. Till then be happy knowing that he still sees you and is probably very involved in your life.
I have a question. How is it that you live on an island in the middle of the ocean and managed to get health care but someone living in what is meant to be of the greatest countries on earth could not get healthcare?
Good question. Take into account the fact that this island is tiny and African, and the wonder just increases.
Sandra,
How crazy that he had the same blockage you did. What’s amazing is how many people die early because of not allowing themselves to be ill/sick or need help.
Thanks for telling us what you learned. It’s an important reminder to us all that our health is paramount- and everyone should be able to seek out medical care or have some basic care. What worries me is how the servic will be- and will they just tell us all to take 800mg of Aleve everytime we feel a severe pain or actually look at the symptoms.
After my dad died unexpectedly at 56 of a brain tumor, I had dabilitating headaches for almost a year… a constant drone sometimes worse that others. Finally I saw a Neurologist who told me I had no symptoms of anything serious and to take Aleve. By then I was puking. Having no history of migraines, I was concerned it was more serious bu was blown off by Western medicine.
A friend suggested acupuncture and chiropractic. The acupuncture relieved some of the pain but it was the chiro that saved my life, restored my sanity and made it all go away.
My point is that even with insurance, I had to trust my instincts and not listen to the neurologist because he didn’t seem to care about the pain of a seemingly healthy 36 year old woman. So what will it take on top of insurance for all to get people to really pay attention to the Jarens that finally come in and seek help?!
I don’t know the answer but I think it starts with changing the mindset of health care professionals as well getting health care.
-k
Sandra,
I was sitting at home watching the Biography channel about your brother Tom. I looked him up on wiki and came across the fact that you are a writer so I looked you up and came across your blogs.
I am stunned… shocked! Saddened beyond words for you and your family and all those who loved Jaren.
You see, I knew Jaren. Not well but I dated his little brother for a few years when I was younger. I stayed the weekend one time in his apartment above the Liquid Kitty. This was years ago, 10 -maybe more. I remember Jaren as a sweet teddy bear of a guy. Sebastian thought the world of him, I will never forget that. His first tattoo was the same racing flags that Jaren had. He so looked up to his big brother.
I hope that I was not too intrusive by making a comment. I have not had contact with the family in years. I regret the fact that I never had a chance to meet you or Jennifer.
I wanted to extend my condolences to you anyway. Its a very cliche’ statement but I am so truly sorry for your loss. There are hardly any other words at a time like this. May God bless your broken heart and make it full again.
Kara
Thank you.
And those racing flags? I have them, too, now, as do many, many of his friends in LA. Memorial tatts to my sweet teddy bear of a son!
Seb is doing well, by the way. A wonderful man, much like Jaren in some ways.
That is so cool about the tattoo. Makes it even more special that that was Seb’s first tat.
Great to hear back from you, I hope that you and everyone are all doing well. I feel that I should send condolences to Seb and Stan as well but I do not have email addresses. I think I will have to finally break down and get a facebook page, cause everyone is on there right?:)
Take care of yourself!
Facebook does make it easier, Kara.
I’m so glad you posted your comment. Thank you.