Turning point

 

Trying to get out of the dark thoughts.  Not easy. The depression is overwhelming. If I don't fight it, it takes me under.

~ I have to let myself off the hook.  I did what I believed was best for Kyle, even when he hated me for it.  Like making him move out when he was 18 and didn't want to work or go to school.  (He went to live with his dad.) Or when I called the police on him once for having illegal substances in the house.  (Kyle had about 2 years of rebellion as a teenager, and then he got himself back on track. I was so proud of him for sticking to his promise to me that he would finish his program and stay clean.)  I was raised in a family of alcoholism and drugs. I had always told my boys if they brought that into our home, I would call the police.  So, I had to.  I wanted him to face the consequences.  "Tough love" they called it.  So hard to do.  He held that against me for a long time.

~ I have to forgive myself for all the "what ifs" and "should haves..."  Kyle was a good son, and he turned out to be a good man, a good husband, and a good father.   The Lord helped me raise him, and I did the best I could.

~ I have to let go of the hurts, perceived or real, intentional or not, and not hold onto the offenses. I have to forgive myself and others. Truly forgive and not keep running the events through my head.

~ I need to focus on the positives and throw out the negatives if I am going to get back to living.  

~ Kathryn was good for him.  He was happy.  She was a good wife and a good caregiver.  She walked through the darkest days with him and never left his side.  I am so thankful for her love and dedication to him.

~ Kyle and I shared a close bond. No one can take that from me.  I have many wonderful memories and treasured moments with him.

~ I will adjust, I will not stay in this destructive place. Sometimes I don't want to live, but I will find peace with it, even though I'm sure my heart will never be the same.

~ I know God does no wrong, Yet I feel wronged.  I must let go of that and "forgive" Him (in a sense). I can't see the whole picture. I must accept that this was best for Kyle.  Plus, I have hope that I will see him again.

Venting

 For the last two years, I have been scolded by several people, including my husband, for being too emotional, looking up the facts about my son's cancer, or saying anything about him going to heaven. As if that could stop God from doing a miracle.  I can know the facts and still believe for a miracle.

I did believe. I honestly thought there was a great ministry ahead for Kyle.  So many restored relationships and inner healings had happened.  I just knew he would have a marvelous testimony. I was sure God would heal him completely and restore the gifts he had as a child.

From the time he was 5 or so, he prayed for me many times. Mostly for back issues or headaches. and the pain would leave.  He prayed for others too.  And every night he had a list of people he prayed for. Both of my boys did.

One time he saw a woman working in Walmart grab her head in pain, and he asked her if he could pray for her. She nodded, and he put his hand on her head and prayed silently. The headache was gone! He was around 9 years old. He told me he could feel the energy flow, and a few times he felt the rejection from the person he prayed for. And then no healing would come.  That was the last time he prayed like that (that I knew of).  

After that, his father left, his Nana died, and his cousin and his best friend both moved away. All in a year or so.   I had no job and no money.  I had to go to work full-time.  Until then, I worked part-time and had never left my boys alone. So, in a sense, they lost me as well.  I tried to reach him, but he inverted and shut everyone out.   A few years later, in high school, he started turning things around.  He overcame many obstacles. But he was never the same.  

With the cancer came many deep discussions about those wounds we all carried.  So much resentment and anger had built up over the years.  So many good memories were lost and so many were twisted -- for both of us.  The kingdom of darkness spins a strong web.  We untangled it with the Lord's help.  Most of it.  It was healing for us and so good for me to have him back in my life and be a part of his long hard journey.

I don't care anymore if people want to scold me for how I feel or what I think. I want to scream and yell and cry, I want to say what I have not been allowed to say.  It's just my feelings anyway; they come and go. But they are real.  They will change in time.  I hope so.  I hope I am wrong about the way things appear these days.

 

My Son

 

Had a memorial for my son, Kyle, yesterday.  Saddest days ever.  

He battled cancer for more than two years. He was a father of two and was no longer serving in the Air Force.   The ocular melanoma grew quickly. In a few weeks, his left eye was removed. Horrific, but no cancer had spread to his brain. The cancer metastasized in his abdomen near the kidney, which is very rare as it usually spreads to the liver or the lungs. Now it was uveal melanoma. The immunotherapy was successful and the tumor died. We celebrated when the tests and scans all came back clear.  He even took summer courses at the local college.

I think it was three PET scans that came back clear and they were going to stop treatments.  But the last test showed a spot on his liver.  Then it was two spots. More aggressive treatments were started. Then an ablation to burn off the smaller tumor.  This made the liver swell and the larger tumor grew and the smaller one did not die. 

No one talked openly about the severity of it.  I looked it up to learn that most people only live 5 to 7 months once it is in the liver.  It is fast-growing and aggressive.   Nothing worked.  No surgery was done as the swollen liver made it impossible to discern where the tumor started and ended. Two surgeons rejected the surgery.

He became very sick from the treatments, and by the time he got to a new cancer facility, it had spread to more than fifty percent of his liver.  He was no longer a candidate for clinical trials.

Again, no one was open or honest about the facts, not even the doctors.  During the last 9 months, we all tried to be strong for the kids.  We watched my son suffer terribly for the last two months as his kidneys shut down. Dialysis worked for a couple of weeks. He was able to hold some food down and had less pain.  Even his last week in the hospital they gave us false hope with more dialysis and new treatment plans for the liver.

 I treasure the precious time we shared. The times I stayed with him in the hospital while his wife took care of the kids, and the times they all stayed at our house.  He shared his strong faith, telling me it was going to be okay because he would get a miracle and get to stay here for his family, or he would get to be with Jesus and be completely healed.

Rivers of tears have been shed. Complete emotional meltdowns are less frequent. The strangest things can trigger it. My heart pounds, races, and aches. Sharp pains stab my chest sometimes.  Feels like I'm shattering apart. Physical collapses too.  I have had to lay down on the floor a couple of times and wait it out. Weak from not eating much. No appetite and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. 

Yet, I’m also thankful he is no longer suffering. I remind myself I will see him again and of all the wonderful things he is doing now. That helps me shake off the dark thoughts.

My granddaughter pushes me away and shuts me out (which is typical for a 14-year-old). She was often moody and shut others out for the past two years.  Understandably so.

My grandson (7 years old) wants to comfort me.  I treasure his little hugs and tight squeezes.

My daughter-in-law, well, I have no clue.  I know she is angry at the world, and her whole world is upside-down, but so is mine.  It feels like I can do nothing right.  We are both defensive and overreacting, I’m sure.

As I share from my heart, my raw, honest thoughts and feelings, please remember I have an irrational mind these days.

I wasn’t included.  I showed up anyway for the meeting at the funeral home to discuss the services. My ex-husband and I agreed beforehand to let her make the decisions. 

My precious pictures of my young son were not wanted.  But I had to share them.  So many good memories.  Too many I suppose.  I told the lady preparing the slide show to delete some of mine if needed. (I didn’t care so much anymore.  I had my own copy for me and my family.)  She suggested we mix mine up with my ex-husband’s and my daughter-in -law’s images instead of doing a timeline.  That way if some of the images didn’t get shown at the end it would be random.  That sounded good to me and seemed to help the situation.

I spent hours going through my old photos and taking pictures of them to have them on my phone. Then I emailed them to myself so I could edit them before I put them on the jump drive. Then I took them to the funeral home. It was a wonderful way to keep busy and not feel useless.   Sometimes it didn’t stop the tears, but I relived beautiful memories.

I could not understand why anyone would object to the precious baby pictures and childhood pictures of my son.  I was deeply hurt on top of my already broken heart from his passing.  I had very few images that included me because I was the one who took the pictures. Many of them were with his brother, cousins, best friends, and/or his dad.  I wanted everyone to be included that loved him.

Then there were the framed images to put on the table.  I am a professional artist. I also did custom framing for years. I put the images in expensive frames and custom-cut the glass, mats, and foam-core backing.  Again, I was frustrated, hurt, and even angry when they weren’t wanted. I offered to frame some of hers too.  I finally said we didn’t have to display them because we had the slide show.  She decided she wanted them, so I downsized mine and did some of hers.  It turned out nice and not crowded.  She was right about that; it can get too crowded and overwhelming. 

By now I was over feeling rejected, left out, and hurt. I was angry.  Of course, I recognized it was not at her, it was just at everything. But I still thought she was wrong to not accept my help or input on things.  I couldn’t even answer questions while helping to decorate the church.  That sent me into a fit of tears and I had to leave for a bit.

It all turned out amazing. She honored him well.  And so did I.  She did military honors for him and had three of his pastors share. That was so good to my soul. 

However, no one asked me about my stories.  He was a prayer warrior by 6 years old.  He had gifts of healing for others.  He saw things in the spirit realm and drew pictures of the angels he saw. He was hit by a car at 7 years old and the bike was mangled up under the car and he was not hurt.  He was sitting on the side of the road in a daze.  “An angel caught me, Mama, it pulled me away from the car!” And his friend saw him “float” away from the car. (Those are just a few.)

So many wonderful things I wanted to share. At least one.  But not even one was shared.  Again, I was confused and hurt. 

 I want to honor my son too.  I want to share too. I want to be allowed to be honest about how I feel and not be scolded or misjudged for it. I might write some stories about him. But I might not be able to. We’ll see.

Pray for me, please.  My heart is in a million pieces.  Sometimes I can’t breathe.  I know he’s in a better place, and I know he is dancing with Jesus, and seeing all our loved ones, but I miss him so much.

Obituary information for Kyle Marvin Jenkins