Regrets

I never saw Mandy after she died......I just couldn't do it. When we left the hospital, after she was officially declared brain dead, she was still hooked up to machines that were keeping her body alive so that her organs could be donated. I never went back to the hospital or saw her body again after the organ and tissue recovery, even at the funeral home. My heart knew that she was no longer in that shell. Even though the days after the accident are forever etched in my memory, I guess I somehow thought that if I didn't see her cold, lifeless and empty, it would be so much easier to remember her laughing, smiling, healthy and whole.  Some days, that is true; on others, especially leading up to the anniversary of her death, not so much. There is a raw physical pain associated with the need to touch her again; if I allow myself to go there, I can literally feel her head on the exact spot it always rested on my chest when we hugged. I so desperately want to believe in Heaven and the promise of a reunion (and on most days, I do believe that), but I will always feel a deep regret that I didn’t hold her and say goodbye just one more time.

To borrow a phrase from another blogger whose words always touch me, Chris Jones (Mitchell’s Journey on FB), I have worked hard to “turn my regrets into resolve”, attempting in word and action to give Mandy's death a purpose and to honor her legacy in all that I say and do while taking care of my family that still lives. I have promoted organ donation, created grief support groups and given scholarships, all very good things. However, I have failed miserably in my personal relationships at times, unknowingly and most certainly unintentionally. It’s a delicate balance to honor the person who died while still caring for the family that lives.......one that is fraught with opportunities to create permanent hard feelings and rifts that you don’t even realize have happened until the damage is done. Looking back, I can easily see these instances and also see how they have affected and continue to affect those I love, and I deeply regret hurting anyone. I am sure that for many years into the future hard feelings might come to light. I continue to discover ways that I have hurt those I love the most by dwelling on Mandy’s absence at opposed to living in the present joy of the day or event. However unintentional, it has been hurtful to all and I am profoundly sorry. I don’t think I am alone in this behavior; I suspect it is very common for someone who deeply grieves a lost loved one to be fixated on their absence, failing to recognize the pain that causes for those still present, but I honestly don’t know how in the world such behavior is to be avoided. I hear similar stories over and over from others who are grieving a significant loss, and if you have not been in that place, you simply cannot understand, nor do we want you to understand. Another regret to put in the books, but this one comes with a determined resolve to constantly be mindful of living in the moment and to cherish each day as it comes with those we love.

We found out that Mandy’s lung recipient passed away about 2 months ago....Dolores’ husband called me to tell me the news. She was a dear, kind lady who struggled mightily to come to grips with the idea that we lost our 18 year old and she benefited from that loss. I immediately asked Tennessee Donor Services for a “welfare check” on the heart, liver and kidney recipients with whom we have never had any contact, something they are allowed to do for a donor family from time to time. Unfortunately, we were told that Mandy’s heart recipient passed away almost 2 years ago. He would have been 17-18 when he died, as the transplant took place when he was 11. I grieve for both of these families as well as for myself all over again. I so desperately wish I gotten to hear her heart beat one more time, but I certainly respect their wishes not to meet us. Now they grieve a teenager just as we do, and we will be forever connected in both our grief and our children’s lives, even though we will likely never meet. As a side note here, if you are a transplant recipient reading this, please write to your donor family, even if it's just a short note that says thank you and allows for no other interaction. It will mean so much to them, even if they are not able to respond to you through their grief. Thankfully, 4 of Mandy’s 6 recipients are still alive and doing well and hopefully one day, we will get to meet the 2 we have not yet met. While I deeply regret never knowing the young man who received her heart, I continue to find comfort in the additional years he had with his family, and I hope that he and Mandy had a joyful meeting in Heaven when he arrived.

Our society gives people such little space to grieve......a few weeks and the griever is supposed to be “over it” and return to “normal”, even though there is no more “normal” for our families because our loved one is gone forever. I have 2 dear friends that I have met through my grief group who are coming up on death anniversaries, just as we are. It’s the last day we want to commemorate and the one day that we simply can’t pretend doesn’t exist in our world. It’s the day that we now use to mark time, because major life events either happened “before” Mandy died or “after” Mandy died. Time stands still on that one day each year, and we replay their deaths over and over, wondering how or if we could have changed the outcome if we had made different choices or if the person who died had made different choices. Most of the time, of course, the answer is “no” and we do mostly come to accept that this is true, but we’ll still always wonder sometimes...at least I will. Our minds dredge up every harsh word that was ever said, every time we wish we had given them something they wanted, every time we failed as a parent (spouse, sibling, child-you get the idea), every missed opportunity to play instead of clean house, to sit and talk instead of spending time on the computer or with a video game, the list goes on. Did we make the correct choices about treatment when they were ill or injured, should we have insisted the doctors do something differently or something more? For me, why didn’t I just say NO, you can’t go? What if, what if, what if, what if........these things play over and over in our heads and drown out, at least for that brief time every year, the carefully crafted and artfully presented facade that we show the world. The regrets can be overwhelming, even in situations in which we know we did our best, as most of us do. Those who grieve have developed various strategies for coping with these times. and I always tell people that as long as their coping strategies don’t hurt them or others, it’s OK. My strategy has always been to share Mandy’s life with the world through the 6 people who received her organs, through up to 50 others who likely received a tissue donation from her (ligaments, bones, skin), through the scholarships given to several very deserving young people in her memory, and to share my regrets, my pain, and my grief with my little grief group and through this blog, all while continuing to love and care for my husband, son and daughter-in-law as best I can. I don't want anyone to feel alone and misunderstood in their grief. Thank you again for allowing me the privilege to walk with you as you grieve, and hopefully we can continue to work toward healing and restoration together.