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 grandson (7 years old)  comforts me.  I treasure his little hugs and tight squeezes.

 We mixed up everyone's images for the slide show. (I had too many pictures of Kyle when he was little.)  That way if some of the images didn’t get shown at the end it would be random.  Precious memories.

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.

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.  It turned out nice and not crowded. 

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

Wish I would have written out at least one of my stories to share. Kyle 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 want to share.  Maybe I'll write some and share them when I can put my thoughts together again. 

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