Why the pain of losing my Son, my Father and my Grand son never really leaves me.

They say time heals everything. Nothing could be more further from the truth.

The only thing that time does is diminishes the pain ever so slightly.Eight years ago my world came to a stretchering halt. While at work I received the distressing phone call that my son had past away in his sleep. Never have I ever felt my knees buckle so badly, as if an invisible elephant had decided to park it's fat ass on my shoulders. Making the drive home was excruciating. Praying that this was all a bad joke. The thoughts running through my mind, the confusion, anxiety, anguish and tread, so that in the end I became a nervous wreak. I knew that once I made the final turn into my street, that I had to pick myself up from the floor and gather the strength to get my family through this.

The last thing my son ever said to me was "Dad, I'm going to make a phone call to Papa". The last time I heard his voice was while he was on the phone with his Grand father and these were his last word, "Love you Papa, really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, can't wait!"
I had to make the trip to the airport while the police and forensics were in my son's room. This is normal practice.
I didn't have to exchange words with my father, as soon as he saw my face, he knew. His first word to me was "Joseph?"
For a second there he too buckled before picking himself up. Knowing that I needed his strength too.
My son passed away from a brain aneurysm. The only comfort that I can take from his passing was that the coroner said that he would not have felt a thing and did pass without pain. This affected me terribly. No father (or parent) wants to out live their children. Just doesn't sit right with me. It took me two years to realize that I needed help dealing with his loss. So I took counselling for several weeks to come to terms of having loss my son. Has it helped? Yes, a little bit.
As a father I only ever wanted one thing from my children. BE GOOD PEOPLE.
I can live knowing that my son lived up to that ideal. He was generous beyond belief. He would give up of his time to anyone and would give the shirt off his back if you truly needed it.He would spend his money on others as if he knew he wasn't going to be around for that long. What makes me more proud of him was two things. Firstly, his generosity would be shown through his actions and secondly being a sick child through life having survived Leukemia twice he accomplish a multitude of things in such a short life span. He would never allow any of his sickness ( he also suffered from epilepsy and bronchitis) to stop him from an adventurist life style. You name it he's done it. Whether that was skiing, white water rafting, parachuting, para gliding, helicopter flights, travelling, motorbikes, jet boating and a whole range of things. IT IS ONLY NOW THAT I AM COMING TO TERMS WITH HAVING LOST HIM.

I have dealt with loss before. Having loss a sister in the early 80's. Had two friends die in my arms after swallowing weed killer and another in a motorbike accident. Those are stories within their own right. I also had a short stint in Search and Rescue. Dealing with death, sadly does not get any easier!

Then in 2015 the year I refer to as the year from hell! I lost my father. He was a man of strong conviction, stoic, tough as nails, a true man's man. Respected by those of the church (he was a minister of the church at one point) and revered by many within his community and especially so by our people. The accompanying photo is of my father and mother. After suffering from two strokes he become a shell of the man he once was. It pained him that he no longer had his health and could not do the things that he took for granted. I did not shed a tear throughout, from his initial passing to his burial in fear that he might jump out of his coffin and bitch slap me for being a pansy.

The one thing that I admired most about my father was his wisdom. The wisdom that he learnt from that "old hard school of knocks". The sort of wisdom gained from being in the trenches. The wisdom learnt by being there and in amongest it all. He left me a legacy. A mantle that I now have to up hold. It now becomes my responsibility to not only pass on my wisdom but also his wisdom as well . He died a good death. Surrounded by his loving family as he drew his last breath. I MISS YOU DAD SO VERY MUCH.

The above photo of us in a happier time (Dad is in the center)

Following my fathers death, less than three months after I lost my grand son Phadye. How can one so young die from cot death. This broke my heart and left me dumb founded, constantly looking for answers as to how this could of happened within my own home. Especially as my home has always been a safe sanctuary for all the kids within my family. I was questioning myself. Why wasn't I able to protect my own? Rightly or wrongly I hated myself. This time however I did permit myself to cry. I have never cried so hard in my life, the tears just poured from me like a fountain. I think I realized that I couldn't take much more. I know that there will be many more deaths to deal with into the future. I pray that God gives me the strength to carry on, hopefully with dignity.

One of the most moving images I have, is of Joseph (one of my other grand sons). We had Phayde lying in his coffin within our house overnight (as is Island tradition). Joseph being only three at the time had gone outside to fetch a ball,returned and passed it to Phadye. He stood there asking why Phayde wasn't playing with him. One of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. How do you explain to a three year old whats happened?

So in conclusion. Does the pain ever really go away? Not really. It always remains bubbling underneath and it only takes a tiny thing for me to remember the lost. A whiff of perfume. A certain song. A certain remark. What gets me through a day? Knowledge that they are with God and the fact that they themselves would want the best for me. As long as I keep their memories alive they remain a part of me always.

The last photo we ever took as a complete family.

If you have suffered from loss, please share with me your story. Maybe you need help. I am all ears. Do not suffer in silence. I would give you all of my time to helping you ease your pain.

I do not want to end this post on a negative note, so I will include a happy photo. My wife Edith, Joseph and my mum Hoki.

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