It is often difficult to put into words unceasing and ever lingering pain a parent feels when they lose a child. Like most of you, I have had my share (perhaps more than my fair share) of highs and lows...physically, financially, and emotionally.  People usually try to categorize and compare events they deem to be of the "Life Defining" variety. As time goes on, their ranking of these moments will no doubt change...as there will be new adventures (both good and bad) to add, while others no longer will hold to be as important as they once did. For me, the Top of the List never changes, and probably never will.  After all that I've been personally been through, a significant part of all that I was, and all that I would be will be is forever frozen at 4:10 PM on September 9, 2007.  How can being there at the end of a Life you helped to create, and were duty bound to guide and protect, not alter everything about what makes/made you...you? Knowing that whatever I may face in the future, there is little likelihood anything will ever have such an enormous and lasting effect as having my son die in my arms. On that day, I learned what true pain could be.  

For the past 11 years, I've had to contend with my memories of that day.  There is no escape from what happened, nor do I want there to be one. I have (so far) been able to cope (for the most part) with losing Darrel, but not everyone is able to process such a traumatic outcome as balanced as I apparently have.  I still experience good days and bad days...it's just I am better adapting when possible triggers present themselves before me.  It is certainly not my position, or anyone else's, to pass any kind of judgment on how a parent chooses to address what they are going through.  There is no direct correlation between how a person reacts and the depth of their loss, or the underlining love behind it all.  There is no one right or one wrong solution to move forward, but having a strong Support System in place can often play a significant role in the pace of a person's recovery timetable. We are all individuals, and a proven path taken by one person in no way can necessarily translate into a successful route for someone else.

With the death of my mother last year, I've also had to reflect on another life of someone else close to me.  While the family dealt with all the financial issues of her estate in the first few months of her passing, there remains much of her personal belongings and mementos untouched. Every once in a while, my father and I pick a few drawers or boxes to sift through.  Pictures and letters comprise the majority of what we have reorganized so far, but there have been a few unexpected finds.  One of the biggest surprises was the several certificates for her from the Royal Conservatory of Music!  In all my 47 years, I never once had heard my mother play a piano...yet she was quite (apparently) accomplished at the instrument in her younger years. How is it possible that I never had any inkling that she had once had such a talent?  It made me feel a bit better when my father said he had only heard her play once throughout their many years together.  Truly amazes me that someone who knew me so well, and I thought I knew everything about, had such an interesting aspect to them that I was totally unaware of.


Loss is a strange thing, but it is something we all will have to contend with on one level sooner or later.  It is not a weakness, but a part of life.  Hopefully we can grow and learn from our losses.  It is never easy, but who said life was meant to be easy?


With that, I'd like to thank you all for your continued support of my family and this website.


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The 2018 International Neuroblastoma Awareness Week was held on June 11 -17, 2018.  Darrel's Playground was once again proud to assist in this Global Effort as one of the Administrators.  Thank You to all who participated.

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September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Please consider changing your Social Media Profiles to Gold for this month.  Anything you can do to help make a difference will be greatly appreciated. 

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​What can I say about Darrel that I haven't mentioned many times over the past ten years?  YES, IT HAS BEEN TEN YEARS! Judging by the size of this Blog, apparently quite a bit!  Darrel's smile, wit, laugh, and wisdom beyond his years are always with me in the present day, even though in reality this happened more and more in my distant past.  That is the way it is when we lose someone close to us...we try to hold on tightly to the memories we shared with that person.  Of course, being a bereaved parent, this process is greatly intensified.  This is not to say our grief is necessarily greater to losses suffered by others, but it is certainly different. Parents in my situation are more or less the sole caretakers of all that child was, of all that child will ever be, and held the greatest dreams of what that child could have been.  Whoever said "Time heals all wounds" has never dealt with what many of us have had to endure.  but some days it feels like 10 minutes ago. This all seemed to be having an effect on me earlier this year than in the past. Just because the Calendar tells me September 9th is around the corner, and 2007 was a decade ago, I have been waking up feeling a bit different lately. The Mind is a mysterious thing...a certain day, a certain place, a certain sound, or a certain smell will bring it all flooding back with no way of controlling it. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, as much as these times upset me, a part of me is glad they do...if they ever don't, I won't have only lost Darrel, I'll have lost myself as well. 

No one will ever spend more time, or know more about that child than his/her parents.  We were their World, and they were ours.  Because of this, many parents like myself often struggle and go to great lengths to safeguard all of the precious and brief moments that were spent with that child.  Some say that the Greatest Fear a Grieving Parent has is that their child will be forgotten, even by themselves in some way. I believe this to be true, and very much the case.  That is why I do these blogs.  Darrel is always with me in the here and now.  I retell stories that will often make me sad, and miss him more, but at the same time can bring a smile to my face, as I know I had a Front Row seat to the life of such a remarkable young man...from the very beginning until the far too soon conclusion.  Only his mother and I will ever to able to say that.  My Blogs may introduce Darrel to those who will never get to meet him, but they also serve as a back-up memory for me.  Try as I might, I can not possibly remember it all that happened over the years.  Revisiting older Posts also gives me insights into what was going through my own mind as the events continued to unfold. I am thankful they are a resource I can call upon now, and in the future.

Cancer, in its many forms, has no doubt touched the lives of almost everyone reading this Post.  Currently, I have two people close to me who are under going treatments at Grand River Hospital in Kitchener. I have found myself walking the halls of a hospital that I haven't been in for 10 years.  For 2 years, if Darrel wasn't at Home, he was either at the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto, or at Grand River Hospital.  The Staff in Kitchener treated him like a King every time he was there, and this is greatly appreciated by me still to this day (Special thanks to Dr. Wilson and Nurse Patti for even making a special visit to Fergus on Darrel's last day).  I know that these people I care about are in excellent hands at this facility.


With the discussion that central venous catheter might need to be put in place for one of them to receive their chemotherapy, Darrel's voice immediately shouted in my mind "It's A Hickman!!" There are several kinds of Central Line ports that are commonly used during cancer treatments, such as a Double-Lumen or a Hickman.  For Darrel, it was a Hickman Line.  He was always very observant when the nurses came in to give him medications or flush his line while in the hospital,  and Darrel could easily tell if a nurse was not entirely sure how to proceed. This was mainly at Grand River, as they did not have a separate Ward for Children's Oncology (therefore the Staff wouldn't be as familiar with all the equipment), but it did happen occasionally in Toronto as well.  If Darrel felt the nurse was hesitating for too long, he would not so calmly let her know that she was in fact dealing with a Hickman!  The nurse would then look at either parent in the room for confirmation, then continue to complete the tasks at hand. He was never too shy to inform them if he believed something wasn't being done properly, as they literally had his life in their hands.  As Doctor Darrel's intuition was usually correct, I couldn't really tell him not to voice his concerns.

In moments of personal reflection, I think most of us look back upon our lives, regardless of how old we are at the time, and try and pinpoint the turning points that happened to us, and that set us off in a new direction.  These could range from the Happy: Graduation; New Job; Marriage; Birth of your First Child...to the Sad: Medical Issue; Accident; Divorce; or Death of a Loved One.  Having contended with all of these, in varying degrees, losing Darrel ten years ago today has, and will always have the greatest impact on all that I am, and all that I will be.  I am NOT living in the past, though I've been told that more than once, but the memories of the loss and pain thrust upon myself and my family that day can not be overlooked or understated!  I am confident that there are many more Highs and Lows ahead of me, but I sincerely doubt any will match far reaching scope of THAT day.  I continue to move forward and move on, but to close the Door on that part of my past would be impossible to achieve, not that I would ever try to. 


Love and Miss You Little Man

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Other Things To Mention


- For another year, Darrel's Playground was pleased to serve as the Canadian Administrator for the International Neuroblastoma Awareness Week, which ran from June 12 - June 18, 2017.  Thank You to everyone who Liked, Shared, and/or Posted on our Facebook and Twitter Pages.

​https://www.facebook.com/NBawarenessweek/

- Childhood Cancer Canada relaunched their Hero Shirt Program this year, and Darrel once again was included (in the "E").  Thank You to everyone who purchased a shirt.  Orders can still be made at:

https://teesforthepeople.com/products/i-love


- The remaining Legal Matters between Darrel's mother and I were finally resolved this past July.  Though not everything turned out the way I had hoped, having Kira, Lauren and Darrel all under the same roof as me once again makes the entire drawn out procedure worthwhile in the long run.


Here is a Link to an Article I found on Grieving Parents:

https://themighty.com/2016/01/the-greatest-fear-of-a-grieving-parent/




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Please remember to Go Gold in September for Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.  With your support, we can move Together Towards A Cure!

"As my memory rests 
But never forgets what I lost 
Wake Me Up When September Ends" ~ Green Day

​Nine years...How is that even possible of being how long Darrel has been gone???  Milestones are supposed to be reached for pleasant memories and events, yet September 9th is not a happy time for reflection, but most certainly worthy of remembering.  I always try and post a Blog on May 26th and September 9th, but as the years go by, there is so little new to say about Darrel that hasn't been said countless times.  I can proudly talk about what Kira and Lauren have currently been up to, which I will always do, but when it comes to Darrel, that just can't be done.  

On my wall, there are graduation pictures hanging of both my daughters, but there will never be one for my son, not even one of the cheesy and almost pointless photos they now take for graduating kindergarten (though I ordered them and cherish them all the same). With each passing year, the photo of a young boy in between photos of two young women may seem out of place at first glance.  When new visitors come over to the apartment, looking at these pictures is often their initial introduction to the fact our family is missing an important piece that can not be ever found. Every picture tells a story, but there are very few people that actually want to know the story that goes along with contents of my photo albums. When it comes to childhood cancer, or facing the reality that there are very sick children in a modern and prosperous country like Canada, most people would rather change the subject or the TV channel.  That is a luxury and an option that I can never have again.  To have no pictures of Darrel up would be a disservice to his memory, but to deny any of your children their rightful place in your life and in your heart, whether living or deceased is something that I will never do, or understand.  There is nothing you can do or say that will ever fully and completely replace what has been lost, though some choices could make the void seem more manageable to some people. 

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, and for many families, this week marked the beginning of the new school year. Darrel probably would have been entering Grade 12, with all the uncertainty and big decisions on what and where you would be headed after you received your diploma.  For Darrel's sisters, they have their near future paths already mapped out for themselves. Kira is back in St. Catharines for her second year at Brock University.  In addition to her studies, she has taken on a Residence Don position, which I'm sure she will excel at, and provide her with invaluable experiences for both her personal and career development. Lauren will be starting her apprenticeship at a company in Guelph next week, which will be equally rewarding for her as well.

Not much has changed in my situation since my last post.  I am somewhat hopeful that all the remaining legal matters can be resolved sooner rather than later, but this optimism is tainted with the reality that it takes the willingness of both parties to move things to a successful conclusion. While I am open to re-entering the Dating Scene, so much has changed since that last time I was 'available', it is both an exciting and scary prospect at the same time.  I may not be considered old, but I certainly won't be categorized as been that young either.  Life has given me quite a few unexpected twists and turns thus far, and I'm sure many more lay ahead in my future. Approaching each day and each situation with no expectations is really about all any of us can do, but that is often easier said than done.


Thank you once again to everyone who continues to be there when I need a sounding wall, or even a shoulder to lean on.  It is greatly appreciated.

Love and Miss You Little Man


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Sept 10/16

​September 9th Follow Up: Yesterday, I did receive a few messages from friends worried about my state of mind, as they felt some of my posts were too dark. While their concern was genuine and appreciated, it was lacking in understanding of what I, and many other parents who have lost a child (or even losing their children) must cope with on a daily basis.

My Blog yesterday talked about the pictures on my Wall and in my Photo Albums. Those photos I decide to Post on Social Media show usually show Darrel with a smile and that amazing twinkle in his eyes. I have others that I do not share, with his eyes deeply sunken in, his frail bones almost visible through his skin, and the look of pain on his face that would give you nightmares. The smiles may be easier for you to view, but I know what was going on with his health and treatments when they were taken, and know what Darrel was enduring behind that brave face...so those photos are as painful to me as the ones I do not show. Every picture does tell a story, but even after all I have shared in blogs and pictures over the years, there is so much of the story you will never know.

While I post about Childhood Cancer throughout the year, on September the 9th, I give myself permission to feel everything, and open up the flood gates of emotion that I try to contain the rest of the year. Posting about Bacon, Star Trek, or Music are all fine and good, but there is a sadness within me that will never disappear, though I do not willing put it on display most of the time.

I do not let what has happened to Darrel and my Family dictate everything I do, but it IS part of everything I do all the same. Your concern is appreciated, but a few comments crossed the line into judging me, which I will not tolerate from anyone who has not experienced exactly all that I have...and I am the only person that can say that.
​
If you can not grasp what I am attempting to convey here, please feel free to remove yourselves from this Page. I realize most of your intentions were good, but that is not how they came across on my end.
Thank You

After 8 years now, September 9, 2007 remains the date that forever changed my family, but since then we have all moved forward the best we can, some more successfully than others.  Memories of Darrel still have an impact some of the decisions I make today, as well as effect how I interpret information I receive in person or through the media at large.  You can not help but be profoundly altered after suffering a loss of such a magnitude, as the ripples from that loss can not be easily overlooked or ignored. That being said, picking up the pieces can be easier said than done, especially when one of the pieces is impossible to replace. In Life, moving forward is the only option, so that is what we must do.

Since my last blog, the biggest and happiest of these changes is that Kira and Lauren made the decision last month to move in with me at the apartment (the dogs came too, but they didn't have a vote on the matter).  There has been somewhat of learning curve as we all adjust to the new living arrangements, but for the most part, I think the process has gone quite smoothly. The Apartment is now full of love and laughter again (along with the yapping dogs), a scattering of things you would expect to find with teenage girls around, and of course a selection of Lauren's Art too.  Whether it be sounds of MarioKart or Zelda coming from the Wii or the smells of coming from the kitchen, I am overjoyed by this turn of events. After staying alone here the last year, I have taken full advantage of Kira wanting to cook and bake for Lauren and I.  Having the three of us sitting around the same Dinner Table together night after night serves as affirmation of how I have conducted myself in the most recent past, and maintained a positive relationship with Kira and Lauren since April 2014. The ongoing issues I had, and continue to have with their mother have not had any bearing on my love and commitment to my daughters, and that is how it should be.

Kira did not have much time to unpack and get settled here, as she started her first year at Brock University a few days ago.  In my mind, it wasn't that long ago that I was at university, but a quick glance at the calendar says otherwise. St. Catharines really isn't that far away, but the distance is enough I won't see very much of Kira between now and May.  With Lauren entering her final year at high school, it is probably only a matter of time before she seeks out new horizons for herself too.  But for now, I'll enjoy this time together while the opportunity presents itself.

With September being Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, I have been busy spreading the word that more could and should be done in finding a cure, as well as supporting the children that are currently in treatment, and their respective families.  As the federal election grows closer in Canada, and the race for the White House gets underway in the United States, it is discouraging how little, if any, discussion is taking place on the issue of childhood cancer. While the headlines about a single lion being killed in Africa, or the image of a young Syrian boy washed up on the beach can ignite the emotions of the public in both countries to demand a response, many simply turn the channel if anyone brings up children with cancer. Each of these are depressing and disheartening topics, but ALL are worthy of your attention and support.  It does not take much of an effort to make a tangible difference to the lives of someone in your community. It may not be front page news, but please consider doing what you can. Believe me, it will be appreciated by those who benefit from your kindness.

Thank You


Love and Miss You Little Man

2663...on the surface, not a very significant number. It could mean anything, everything, or nothing at all. For my family, 2663 days was the ever so brief time we were able to spend with Darrel. Today marks seven years since neuroblastoma took him away from all those who loved him. As hard as that is to comprehend, December 24, 2014, Christmas Eve, will be 2663 days since Darrel's passing. Next to his birthday, Christmas was his favourite day on the calendar. To think that after this date, Darrel will have been gone for longer than he was here is unsettling to say the least. What seems like yesterday on so many levels in my mind is truly becoming more distant, yet ever present too.

2007 marked the end of our family as we knew it at the time. Both Darrel's life and death equally changed all that we were, and set us on the course for all that we were to become in the future. This evolution continues, and has and will bring many more highs and unfortunate lows along the way. As a family, we emerged both stronger and diminished from that had happened through Darrel's diagnosis, treatments, and those final horrific hours. Those emotions, strains, moments of personal growth, and even enlightenment echo in positive and negative terms through each of us as much now as they did back then. It is impossible to discuss where we all are today without remembering what happened on September 9, 2007.

Over the Summer seven years ago, I took Darrel to see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TMNT) and the original Transformers movies while they were still playing in the theatres. He thoroughly enjoyed each of them, as I did as well. Most movies we went to back then had the entire family attending, but none of the girls had any interest in seeing either, so these were rare, and as it would turn out, fleeting moments of Father and Son time together. Jump ahead to this year, and both franchises have had new films out. I went to see them both of them, primarily because Darrel could not. The Transformers series is quite worn out now, but at least the Turtles movie is/was a reboot, so it was a bit fresher and entertaining (ironically featuring Megan Fox, formerly of Transformers) to watch.

I don't necessarily believe in coincidences, but when I noticed a young boy, obviously fighting some kind of cancer, at the Turtles screening I went to, it both tugged at, and warmed my heart. From a few rows back, I could just imagine the anticipation and excitement for this boy, in seeing his heroes (in a half shell) on the Big Screen, far away from whatever treatments and hospitals consumed much of his daily life. I had seen a look like that before in Darrel's dancing eyes seven years ago, and the flashbacks were unavoidable. As I watched this boy slowly struggle to leave the theatre afterwards, with his parents ever ready to assist him, I remembered all the "Airlifts" I had given to Darrel from place to place when he was too weak to make under his own power. If I had been out running an errand, Darrel would always give me heck when I returned for not being there in time to have moved him when he had wanted. He was a friendly kid, with a amazing wit and humour, but Darrel could also be quite opinionated and impatient when he felt the need to be. There he would be, with one hand on his hip, and wagging his finger at me with the other. I'm sure that if he had made it to be a teenager, these traits would not be recalled or deemed to be so endearing by me, but that was not meant to be.

2014 is also marking an end, change, and new beginning for me personally, and my family. The time had come earlier this year for Darrel's mother and I to go our separate ways. The issues and circumstances are not important, or for public discussion. To say that the loss of Darrel played no part, or was a deciding factor in reaching this decision would be a disservice to his memory. Like all members of our family, his presence or absence, actions or inactions, and hopes and dreams have brought us to the point we have arrived at together, and where we will part. I am aware that the long term survival rate of marriages after suffering such a loss is not favourable, but I do not want our years together to be simplified, and merely added to these statistics. To quote from Transformers, there is "More Than Meets The Eye".

Like seven years ago, moving forward is what must and will happen. Like seven years ago, adjustments will need to take place, as well as defining what the "new normal" is for myself, and each of my daughters. Though we will all continue to move forward both together and separately, our times and experiences with Darrel will always play a role in everything we are, and everything we will be. For that, at least, I am very thankful.

Love and Miss You Little Man

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end" ~ Semisonic

Over the past week, I have been re-reading my Blogs from 6 years ago, and I have reposted some of them on Darrel's Facebook Page.  While they bring back a flood of memories from the
most painful part of my life, in a strange way, I am grateful that I managed to put my thoughts together enough to have these to look back at today.  Time has a way of changing our perception of both recent and/or more distant events.  Though it is impossible for me to ever forget what happened over those last few weeks, days and hours with Darrel, it is somehow helpful to know exactly what I was thinking when they were actually occurring to myself and our family.  Judging from some of the comments they have received, they also continue to have an impact on those who read them today.  For that, I am also thankful.
 
I am often asked why, even now...six years after Darrel was taken from our family, I continue with raising awareness about childhood cancer?  How will any of my actions encourage the decisions makers to pay more attention to the fact that childhood cancers are both overlooked and underfunded here in Canada, and elsewhere around the world?  Wouldn't be easier on me to distance myself from all the pain and suffering that goes along with watching other families fighting for the lives of their children, much like we did with Darrel?  What goals to I hope to achieve, and how am I going to make it happen???  Sometimes, in the back of my mind, I wonder if these people aren't more interested in me stopping these efforts so they don't
have to constantly see my Posts on Facebook or be asked to donate any of the fundraisers that I take part in.  In truth, I don't have a definitive answer to these questions,  but who really does know what tomorrow will bring for them and/or their loved ones. We all just do what we can, when we can, and hope for the best outcome.
 
Making a difference is never easy, but anything worth doing usually never is.  I am reminded of
the story of the young boy and the starfish.  I've seen many variations of the story posted on the Internet, and have no idea who the original author was (though credit often is given to Loren Eiseley, among other people).  Below is one version that I have taken from another site:
 
One day, an old man was walking down the beach just before dawn.  In the distance he saw a young man picking up stranded starfish and throwing them back into the sea.  As the old man approached the young man, he asked, "Why do you spend so much energy doing what seems to be a waste of time?"  The young man explained that the stranded starfish would die if left in the morning sun.  The old man exclaimed, "But there must be thousands of starfish.  How can your efforts make any difference?"  The young man looked down at the starfish in his hand, and as he threw it to safety in the sea, he said," It made a difference to that one!"  After thinking about what the young man had told him, the older man spent the rest of the morning throwing starfish back into the sea too.
 
 
Spending time online communicating with the parents of children battling against  neuroblastoma may be upsetting now and again, but it does come with its own rewards for me on a personal level.  That is not for others to judge, yet they still do.  It doesn't matter to me if I ever know the person who gets involved because of something I post, or get a "Thank You" from a family who is helped by one of the donations that I make.  That isn't why I do what I do.  My family was once on the receiving end of the generosity and kindness of strangers, and know all too well how much it is appreciated.  Unfortunately, the road towards a cure is blocked by many obstacles, one of which is a lack of adequate funding for research.  While the ongoing research was not at a point that it could save Darrel, and the countless other children lost over the last six years, or those taken in the years before that, each step taken forward raises the hopes and chances for the children facing any of the forms of childhood cancer in the future.  Knowing that some how, in some way, I will have contributed to this better tomorrow, is more than enough to keep me fighting the fight.
 
In a world where wars have been going on for so long that the many of the combatants don't even know how or even why the conflict began, life and death decisions are still being made by political leaders, both near and far from the battle lines.  Why is it that these same political leaders seem determined to sit idly by as children in their own countries not left with little or no support in the fight against childhood cancer?  Why is it that many in the general public are prepared to mobilize to protest on either side of the pending war debate, but have no willingness to even sit through a commercial from a children's hospital, as it makes them too uncomfortable?  While the prospect of peace in the Middle East is a noble goal, our children deserve better TODAY....MY CHILD DESERVED BETTER.
 
There is no longer any thing I can do to help my son in any way.  That responsibility and honour ended six years ago today.  The memories I have and share through these blogs, and the efforts I make to raise awareness, help to keep Darrel with me in the here and now.  It does not need to make sense to anyone other than me, so if you disagree, please refrain trying to impose your logic onto me.  If you are truly my friend, you would support me for who I am today, not who you want me to be tomorrow.
 
Thank You
 
Love and Miss You Little Man

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Looking at the Hit Counter, this website will have reached the 13,000 mark today.  Thank You to everyone who continues to keep the memory of Darrel alive with me.
  
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Next weekend, the Grand Opening of the newly renovated The Rotary Club of Fergus-Elora Accessible Playground will be held.  I would like to say Thank You once again to everyone who has given their support to this project.  The Park has been open to the public since late July, and has always full of children enjoying all there is to offer throughout the Summer.  While I am pleased to read that the Centre Wellington Council has recently approved a bid for the Millburn Park Splash Pad here in Fergus, it is somewhat disheartening that the Township is
funding this project, but did not financially assist the former Stait Park renovation.  The fundraising for the park, fronted by Power of Play, was a true community effort, of which Darrel's Playground is proud to have played a part in.  It is unfortunate that the Township could somehow budget $245,000 for the Splash Pad, but nothing for the Park.  That being said, if the Township had assisted in the funding for Park, our participation may not have been required, and Darrel's name would not be on the Park's sign as a Bronze Sponsor.  Hopefully the weather co-operates for us next Sunday, as several activities and special events have been planned for the official Grand Opening.
 
http://www.evite.com/event/0209CIYT2I2JAACHKEPC5WJAE7P2QA/?gid=fb

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Lunchtime on Sept 9th/13

A McNugget Feast in Darrel's Honour and Memory. I would like to think I would have converted him to Harvey's by now, but that's yet another one of the "What Ifs" that I'll never have an answer too.

Five years ago today, we said our final goodbyes to Darrel.  It was a day I'll never be able to forget, and a day I don't want to forget either.  The pain of losing him has never quite settled, and it still lingers, and often haunts me:  his rapid downwards spiral that last week culminating in the horrible terrors he faced as both his mind and body betrayed him in those final hours; the internal and external pressures that were unnecessarily put upon my family by people who didn't know when to keep their opinions to themselves...these things need to be  remembered.  At the same time, the coming together of family, friends, community, and strangers from near or far to honour all that Darrel was and could/would and  should have been...these things need to be remembered as well.
 
To forget any part of what my son went through, or how he conducted himself at each and every step of his battle with neuroblastoma would be deemed to diminish a short, but extraordinary life.  Darrel faced every morning the same way he concluded every day...with a smile that could warm the coldest of hearts, and a determination that would not bend against odds that most adults could not even comprehend enduring.  There was never a thought of giving up...never a thought of surrender.  This is how my seven year old boy stood up to cancer. To forget any part of this, regradless of any emotional pain and anguish on my part...would be unthinkable and unforgivable.
 
Like most parents who have lost a child, I've become better over the years at hiding much of what I'm feeling inside...most of the time.  I've met lots of new people over the past 5 years, be it at social gatherings or at work, that probably have no idea what happened to Darrel and my family.  To dwell too much on the past every moment of every day would make it impossible to function on a daily basis, but this certainly does not mean I'm "over it". 
 
Losing a child leaves open a wound that will never heal.  If a person loses a physcial ability or limb, there doesn't seem to be a rush by those around the individual for them to "Get Over It".  There is almost always compassion and understanding, as others try to empathize and relate to what has happened.  This is not the case for us parents.  We are supposed to "Get Over It" according to  someone else's timeable.  This is not how it works!! We learn and we adapt to  the "new normal" as best as we can, but "getting over it" is a luxury and option we will never have.  While nobody can relate to how this feels without going through it themselves, they should at least not be so quick to judge how those of us that have chose to deal with our loss.
 
Much of my free time is spent on Facebook or Twitter attempting to spread awareness for childhood cancers in general, and neuroblastoma in particular, or writing Blogs such as this on Darrel's Playground or other sites. Because of time and other personal commitments, I do not always participate in as many events as I might like to, but I still think what I do does make a difference.   At the end of the day, it helps keep my sanity (I think), which after all we've been through, is an impressive accomplishment in itself.
 
In addition to sharing with other parents through Blogs and other Social Media, there are online Support Groups available specifically addressing Child Loss.  Like Support Groups you can physically attend, it is often more important to listen to others than personally contribute all the time.  People in our situation really need some empathy from those around us...not pity, not 
fear, and not being treated as an outcast by those we once called friends.  If talking to people who I probably never meet face to face helps us both mutually get through the days and years ahead...so be it.
 
No two situations are exactly the same when it comes to childhood cancer, regardless of type of diagnosis, place of treatment, or the financial situations of the lives turned upside down by the disease.  There is no one doctor, book, video, or meeting where you get all the answers to your
questions, as each and  every day brings endless new questions...and some of them may never properly be answered. 
 
With Darrel, like all other parents, we tried to make the best decisions we could, for our son and family, when they needed to be made.  You can not make neither a long nor short term plan, as everything can (and usually did) change in an instant.  To say that each day brought a new adventure is putting it too mildly.  We do not need others to second guess these choices that we have made, because, regardless of the outcomes, we are already continually
re-examining every single moment in our own minds each and every day, whether awake or
sleeping.  In addition to losing our children, this a a never ending battle we must face.  The "What Ifs" never have, and never will entirely go away.  The dreams Darrel had, and we had for Darrel, while never given the chance to persued, will not be forgotten. 

Five years ago today, I held my seven year old son's hand as he took his last breath...
 
NEVER...EVER...TELL ME TO "GET OVER IT"!!
 
Love and Miss You Little Man