Angels
Zealen Garrett Shears
November 7, 2011 – October 2, 2012
Memorial
I have written this post a hundred different times and I still don’t know how to write it. It has been a week and I still don’t know how to write it.
While in the hospital, Finding Nemo was a constant source of entertainment and inspiration. Z’s motto became “Just keep swimming.” He did amazing things and fought, truly fought, to the bitter end. His parents said it well. In the end, Z was not meant to swim but rather to fly. Fly high sweet Zealen. Sweet baby angel.
It’s an amazing amount of grief and we are still just as heartbroken. I (Sarah) have felt all through the range of anger, betrayal, and frustration. Mostly anger. It’s a senseless loss. It’s unfair. I feel as if it was a very cruel death and although I could expand on things I’m not going to out of respect for the family. I just feel in my own heart of hearts that things did not have to end up the way they did, that Z dying should not have been a consideration.
I went to the family’s memorial service on Saturday not only to say goodbye to Z but also to his parents, who we tried to talk to the day of our discharge but who were going through the agonizing pain of taking their infant son off of life support. Something no parent should ever have to go through. It was so bittersweet to see photos of such a happy baby. I lost it talking to Amanda. She was so calm and strong and I don’t know if it is because she has to be or because of pure emotional exhaustion. They are good people who will continue to do good things in memory of their son. He is loved deeply and missed terribly but will be remembered always.
Amanda & Halen, if all you can do at the end of the day is just manage to breathe, then I am proud of you. Some days that is the best you can do and it is ok. I wish I could offer better advice that that. Just keep swimming…
I hope Z was able to educate the medical community through his brave fight. I don’t know how it makes Dr. Ohye a better surgeon or improve the function of the support staff. I don’t know what lesson his family should or will learn from all of this. I don’t know what us outsiders are supposed to make of it. How can you try to find something logical in a situation that defies logic? It feels like insanity.
October 2nd was also the 1-year anniversary (or angelversary as the CHD community puts it) of the death of another baby friend. Max’s mom contacted me on FB while she was scared and pregnant, looking for support. I tried to offer some. I told her everything would be ok. That they could do this. That they could make it through.
Max was 24 days old when he died.
The children of the only two families who I feel I helped “coach” or “mentor” both lost their lives. I’m never going to tell anyone that everything is going to be fine ever again. And that is why I cringe when people say it to me. If there is nothing to say, nothing needs to be said.
Max is now a big brother to his rainbow-baby sister Charley. I think of you sweet Max all the time. I don’t know what to make of it, just think of his innocent spirit. Little feet… big imprints…
Max Alexander Serna
September 8 – October 2, 2011
