†Ethan's House†
Our Angel.....
C.J.
June 7, 1984 to October 25, 1996
C.J. was a wonderful son, and so full of life. He was the most generous little guy I know. He was always willing to give that extra hug or kiss, and he would give you the shirt off his back. He was an honor roll student, and in the talented and gifted program at school. He had just started junior high school, and loved it. C.J. loved animals, rollerblading, and enjoyed gymnastics. He was the apple of my eye, and my little sweet-pea.
C.J. was hit by a car in a crosswalk on his way home from a school dance. C.J.'s tragic death has brought many realizations. One of which is that life is so fragile, and there are no guarantees as to how long we will be here on earth. I would like to think that I am a much more compassionate person. Our lives are not the same, and they never will be again. I think it's like being an infant and learning how to live all over again. C.J.'s death has taken the innocence and trust out of our lives, and I don't know whether that trust can ever be again.
Our youngest son John is very much affected by his brother's death. C.J. and John are 21 months apart in age. John depended on C.J. to be his entertainment committee, and now John is not the same little boy he once was. He has picked up some of C.J.'s characterisics, some of which he has taken very far. He has also developed some obsessive/compulsive behavior: he is totally afraid of germs and washes his hands often. As for our relationships with our extended family, they try to understand, but it's not their child. They want to fix us, and think that "we have to go on."
We are all just trying, one day at a time, to live with the death of our son. But for me it only takes one thought in my head, or to see something, and it sends me into flashbacks of the night C.J. was killed, how he flew 35 feet up in the air, how he hit the ground 88 feet down the road, and how he died in the road in my arms. I will never get these thoughts out of my heart and mind. I can still feel the warm blood sliding thru my hands. As for my husband he is quieter about it, but when we do discuss our thoughts, he is thinking and feeling the same helpless, deep sadness that I am.
Our first Thanksgiving and Christmas without C.J. we all went through in a deep fog. Christmas day was two months after C.J.'s death. This past Christmas we went through it with RAW, knife-cutting pain. We shed many tears and still find it hard to believe that our oldest son is gone. On C.J.'s 13th birthday a group of about 50 people did a balloon launch at his grave with prayers and poetry. We find, as it has been said, that the actual "day" itself isn't as bad as the months, weeks, days leading up to it.
Some thoughts that I would like to share are to talk about your child as much as you need to over and over, and over again. To surround yourself with people who aren't afraid to listen, and who don't offer advice. They mean well, but unless they have walked in your shoes, there is NO way for them to understand. Write about your thoughts and feelings even if it's only two or three lines. I have found that when I do this, it lets me cry, which has been VERY difficult for me to do. Keep communicating with your spouse and children, and don't hide your grief from your living children. They need to know that it's okay to cry, and be sad.
Copyright 1997,98 Ethans House,
Inc.
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