Darrel's Memorial Playground
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Sept 21/07 - Closure, Ripples, and Closure

6/12/2011

1 Comment

 
Closure, Ripples, and Closure
Category: Life

The morning after Darrel's death, Kira came down with with me to funeral 
home to sit with him.   There was paperwork and other legal steps that needed
to be completed before he was cremated, and I didn't want him left alone, or
stuck in some dark refrigeration unit.  Though I was quite surprised that Kira
wanted to join me with her brother in one of the waiting rooms, the company was 
appreciated regardless.  It was a sad, yet quiet and peaceful morning waiting 
there.  Sitting by his side, he looked as though he was "just resting" his 
eyes, not sleeping, or as the case was, in the deep slumber you never wake 
from.

After the red tape was finished and filed, the four of us remaining, along 
with my father, loaded into the van to follow the hearse to the crematorium in 
Milton.  For over an hour, I followed it down back roads, with the fall leaves 
slowly changing colour, busy city streets, and even the 401.  It was the first, 
and hopefully the only time I'll have to tail a hearse around Southern Ontario 
for any reason.

Once we arrived, my father and I helped carry his casket into the 
building.  It felt very good to give his body one last Air Lift, even if it was 
only for a few steps.  We placed one of his favourite stuffed animals with him 
in the casket, and said our good-byes one final time.  I feel that doing this 
helped provide closure for all of us in that room.  It was the least we could
do for Darrel, who gave so much to all who knew him.  I've found out since then 
that accompanying the body to the crematorium isn't usually done, but our 
funeral director didn't seem to have any reservations about it, and it was what 
we wanted to do regardless.

By the time we returned home that afternoon, word of Darrel's passing had 
already began to spread around town.  Although we had as a family had just done 
the things to allow ourselves to come to terms with the events of the previous 
24 hours, for many others this was just beginning.    Like ripples on the water 
after a huge splash, Darrel's death also created an aftershock for many more 
distant family, friends, and people he would never have even met.  Cards, 
flowers, endless calls (fortunately we have Call Answer and Call Display), and 
people dropping off assorted foods.  All this was appreciated, common practice,
and understandable, but Rebecca and I, along with girls, had just achieved a 
small  personal sense of the finality to it all, and this ripple effect served 
to constantly bring it bubbling to the surface again.  It had only been a few 
days, but the continual flood of condolences were rubbing salt into an open 
wound.  On the flip side, I would probably have been more shocked and annoyed
if there had been a more limited, or no response what so ever from those in the 
community.

On Wednesday night, Rebecca and I took many of Darrel's favourite things 
down to the funeral home.  His GameBoy, bike, clothes, toys,  the infamous 
bottle of Flintstones, the "nurse whacker", his blanket, photo albums, and 
countless other things were placed around to those who came a better idea of
who Darrel was, and what he cared about.  A memorial slideshow was also set up
in one room, which was very moving to watch, even for those of us who closely 
shared all those memories with him.  It was still a funeral home, but it seemed 
less so, with many of Darrels' personal belongings here, there, and everywhere.

We had been seriously been dreading the visitations scheduled for the 
Thursday afternoon and evening.  What would people say?  What would we say? 
Who would come that we weren't expecting?  Who wouldn't come that we felt
should be there?  How would the girls react and cope to all that the days
activities would present?  The questions were endless beforehand, but they were
for the most part misplaced.

The afternoon session was slow, which was expected.  There was a greater 
chance to talk to those who came before the next mini rush came through.  I've 
always hated wakes where you feel like cattle being pushed through the gates, 
or something rushed down an assembly line.   Being able to spend some time with 
almost everybody seemed to lighten the atmosphere of the room.   That night, 
things were quite a bit busier, but there were still opportunites to have brief 
time-outs to take a breather, or socialize a bit.  Although the slideshow was 
quite well viewed,  and many were moved to see his bike near the head table,
the biggest attention grabber was having Darrel's dog "Lady" there throughout
the day.  The funeral director had no problem with this, and it seemed only
fitting that the dog was present.  Quite often she would sit up front on the
blanket that was always on Darrels' bed as family and friends passed by the urn
holding Darrel's remains.  Whether the dog understood any of the significance
of what it was doing, we'll never know, but she did appear to trying to deal
with the loss like the rest of us.

The funeral on Friday unfolded much like we had hoped for.  It was about 
Darrel, about his good times, and his struggles over the last two years.  There 
were several  religous aspects to the service, but they only added to the 
ceremony, not set the tone, or try to over power it.  For many in the room, it 
was the first time they had heard about some of the jokes and pranks Darrel 
enjoyed to play.  How everything that went wrong was always not his fault (and
I usually got the blame for it).  If they had never actually met Darrel in 
person, many walked aways afterwards feeling that in someway they had.  Closure 
had now come for everyone.  The hard part of trying to return to a new daily 
routine without Darrel in them will be a long one, but try to begin it, we
must.  It was the perfect send off for Darrel, which was the last and only gift
we as parents could do for our incredible and unforgettable son.  He may have
only been seven, but the way he handled all that was sent his way, he trully
went out a Man.
1 Comment
Stephen
3/25/2012 06:45:33 am

I recently wrote this for a Angel Group thread on Facebook. It mentions a few things that weren't really discussed in the original Blog entry. There are is other matters that I haven't went into detail about yet, but the proper time to do that hasn't arrived:

Darrel's Final Days were all spent at home, which is a very small comfort that I'll always appreciate. With his mother being a nurse, she was more than able to look after all his medical/pain relief issues almost immediately as they needed to be addressed. My wife was in constant contact with Darrel's doctor over the phone, as not to overstep her limited authority about dosages, and/or let us know what might to expect. This was more to keep the Homecare nurse happy (and off our backs, as she wanted him in a more controlled environment (for her anyways)...the Hospital! ) than from the doctor himself, who was quite at ease with how Rebecca was looking after our son. A few hours after he died, and other family had left, we cleaned Darrel up, and moved him to his favourite spot in the house....on the couch in front of the TV, with the Remote in one hand and his Apple Juice in the other. I slept on the floor beside him that night, which brought me a small bit of peace. Looking back now, I sometimes think that maybe I should have been consoling my wife instead, but I felt it was Darrel who needed me more this one last time. My wife and I have always dealt with everything Darrel related in quite different ways (and still do), so it probably was the best for all concerned it was handled the way it was. When my parents came back the next morning, as they were going to accompany us to the crematorium, they both went completely white after they arrived. There was Darrel, laying there on the couch with Pokemon on TV. It seemed like the natural thing for him to be doing during his remaining at home to me, but they were utterly floored at the site!! After a brief stop at the funeral home, we drove to the crematorium together as a family. This provided a sense to closure for us before word of his passing had even started to spread around town. Of cousre, the wounds would be reopened countless times (and in many differnt ways) over days, months , and years since he was taken from us, but how the family came together, and dealt with the first 24 hours does still bring me some peace.

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Leave a Reply.

    The majority of all these entries were written by Darrel's father, Stephen.  For those that are not, efforts have been made to give proper credit where it is due.

    The bulk of the posts are in the June 2011 Archives Section, as that is when I transferred them over to this site.  Category Tags should allow you to find entries easier.

    I've tried to correct spacing issues on many of the entries, as most of the older ones have been copied from different sites I've used in the past. I apologize if some have been overlooked.

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