WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND
I asked my husband for a word yesterday. Something that describes this process of
losing a loved one. While the words “brutal” and “guttural” come close, something is missing.
We went to see the
movie “Glass,” and then we heard it.
He leaned over and said, “There’s your word.”
The one word that more closely describes what has happened
in and to our family.
Cataclysmic – something bad or unwelcome, relating to or
denoting a violent natural event.
Losing a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew and a friend. This
has been cataclysmic, a tornado of sorts.
What we leave behind after death tells a story.
He left behind nothing of value. I believe his room was stripped by vultures, looking
for things to sell. He collected hats, many of them expensive name brands. Not one
hat was left in the room. He loved Buckle jeans, cool shirts and shoes. All the new stuff he had the month before,
gone. His XBOX and TV were gone. I’m sure he pawned anything he could to feed
his habit. The room itself looked like a
hazmat experiment gone wrong, with plates of food, half full glasses of what the hell is that.
This is how he lived, the kid that color coded his closet
and had a bin for everything growing up. Things marked and in their rightful place.
One thing stood out.
A binder with his rehab papers from Canyon View, when we locked him down
at the age of 17. The binder was out,
like he had been going through it. This
was comforting in an odd way. It told me he knew he needed help. I found a folder with his drawings.
Things that would only mean something to his family.
I’m grateful his roommate found the crucifix necklace he
wore around his neck. This was in honor of a
friend he lost at a young age. Most days I wear it around my own neck for comfort.
I’ve had to be blunt with bill collectors. They want me to prove he is dead. I copy the death certificate and send it to
them on their request. My health
insurance was the only company that googled his name, while I was on the phone
with them, saw his obituary and stated that’s all they needed. I was so grateful for that.
I used these words with
a bill collector who called me to check on the “estate.” Estate?
“He left no estate.
He died with the clothes on his back, and a needle in his arm. Does that answer your question?” Direct, not
rude, just emotionally spent from explaining. The
paperwork involved in death is overwhelming and each week brings something new.
Stories of laughter, how he made people feel, funny things
he did. He wasn’t perfect by any means. The stories, pictures and videos that
have been shared with me privately have been hysterical and many cringe worthy.
(Oh dear!)
This young man was a
riot, naughty, with a huge heart. His blue eyes, sparkling with mischief.
I can
tell the truth and say “this kid could be a royal pain in the ass!” Through
that honesty I feel the joy of being
his mother.
I’m grateful for conversations of hope, hugs
shared, words of gratitude and I love you said every time we talked. We were closer
than most moms and sons, we were each other’s thermometer, checking in with each other often.
He left this earth with no worldly possessions. What he did leave behind, is a family that will share his story, love and miss him with all of our hearts.
Stacey Hedrick
Mother of Parker James Kelly 02/20/1996 - 11/112018.
#PJKALLDAY
#DONTSTOPBELIEVING
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” (Maya Angelou / Carl W. Buehner)
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