trudging on

Tonight I find myself a little torn between writing here and writing my son’s obituary. Not surprisingly, I never imagined being charged with this task, yet here I am.

The last couple of days have been filled with all sorts of surreal experiences like this one. We went to a funeral home to plan our son’s transport, talked about an autopsy, even planned for his cremation and requested death certificates. I have a notebook in my house from a funeral home, one that contains my son’s name over and over and over again. There is talk all day about planning the memorial service. It is hard to believe this is our life, but then, that has been the case for months, only now we don’t have our boy’s beautiful face, his kisses and hugs keeping us going.

We are fortunate right now to have family and friends taking turns staying with us. We’re comforted by loved ones here, but there is a big gaping hole in my center where my son should be. I miss holding him, smelling the top of his head, hearing his sweet voice, feeling the little pat-pat-pat of his hand when he hugs me. I can’t believe I don’t get to experience these things again, that he is gone, and then there are moments when I feel this very keenly, very sharply. Jodi and I are doing a lot of clinging to each other as we trudge through these days. We’re reading the notes of support, feeling the love coming from all directions. It all helps a bit as everyone carries a little more of the weight of this grief, but we’re learning very quickly that there is no easy or graceful place through this. We’ve got to feel it all, ride the roller coaster, and hope we come out on the other side of this with some sanity. It won’t be easy; I’m certain of that.

I know many of you are probably wondering how things progressed from taking baby steps toward recovery to losing our boy. I will share this with all of you soon. For now, thank you for being there for us here. We appreciate all of your kind words.

For those who live locally, we are planning the memorial service for the 16th. We will have more details within a couple of days.

52 thoughts on “trudging on

  1. I am a new reader. I am sending all the love and healing I have. You have a tough road ahead of you but you will get through it…. You have to. May you find comfort in each other.

  2. I have been reading your other blog since Caemon was little and you’d take pictures of him next to a stuffed crocodile to show his growth. I have borrowed that idea with my own 7-week-old son and a stuffed elephant. Though my partner was familiar with Caemon’s illness, when we recently took my son’s one-month pictures I told her all about it again. I can not imagine your pain. You all have not been far from my thoughts, even though we are strangers. Since his passing, there hasn’t been a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought of you and sent you thoughts of strength and warmth. I will continue to do so as you work to honor your son and his spirit.

  3. I’m so glad to hear from you. I have worried and worried about how you’ve been. Sending love and strength to get thru the coming days. M and f. Xoxo

  4. Another new reader here, but I hope that I can safely say this – please don’t worry about us (your readers)! We will all be here if/when you want to share, but you have no obligation to anyone, and especially not now. I am thinking of you and wishing you whatever small comforts you can find.

  5. Thank you for sharing. I’ve been reading about BG since he was born, as I started reading the blogs of other two-mom families while I was sitting up at night doing feedings. I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. Like many have said, even though I’ve never met you, Jodi, or Caemon in person, I’ve come to know you through your writing. I’ve been thinking of you all often since I found out about Caemon’s death (and throughout the entire cancer journey). Sending love and support from the East Coast.

  6. I read every post you write, and have such admiration for the words you find in the midst of your pain. Thank you for sharing so much of your family journey. I’m so sorry you have to walk the pain filled path of a life without your precious boy.
    Hugs from Australia

  7. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to experience the loss of your son, but please please please know we’re here for you. We’re all here for you.

    Sending love and light.

  8. I still find myself at a loss of words, but I feel the need to say something so that you know that we are sending strength and love your way. The unimagineable has happened. Hold tight to each other.

  9. My heart breaks for you. I lay here in bed in tears not being able to fathom what you both are experiencing. I have known others who have had to walk your path and there is no easy route. They have found success in support groups of other people that have gone through the same experience. I continue to hold space in my hearts for you both of you. Not a day goes by that I don’t say a prayer for all three of you.

  10. Just wanted to say that I am thinking of you two and your beautiful boy everyday. Sending lots of love and light your way, may it help you through this most difficult time.

  11. I am so very incredibly sorry. Crying tears for Caemon and for you. I will light a candle tonight and continue to send love and healing light to all of you. May you feel the arms of angels around you.

  12. Thank you for taking the time to let “us” all know how you are both doing. You and your family have been in my thoughts and heart. And will be.

  13. I hope it is some small comfort that there are so many readers out here holding your family in our hearts and remembering your wonderful boy.

  14. Caemon will no longer suffer. A blessing. And u had the privilege – as well as him- of knowing each other briefly. Are u not, when all is said and done, better for the experience! Take care. Time will heal. And life will go on.

  15. I am heartbroken. I can’t begin to imagine the pain you’re going through right now. Know that you have love being sent from all corners. Thank you for sharing the gift of Caemon with all of us. I will never forget this beautiful little boy and his his light will shine forever through all of us that he touched.

  16. Timaree and Jodi: I cannot imagine the pain that you and your extended family–your Mom, Veronica, and Seth and their families–are suffering. All of us in the family are feeling your loss of the beautiful little boy who has become one of the angels. We are here for you in any way that you need us.

    I am sharing the serenity prayer with you. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” It may get you through a few tough moments.

  17. I think of you constantly, all day long. More than I think of anyone else in my life right now. Thank you for finding time and words and strength to write here about how you are doing. I hope the love coming towards your family, from all over the world, can provide even the slightest bit of solace. I’m so sorry you have to face this pain. I wish I could take it from you and make it disappear.

  18. I really wish we could be there on the 16th, but will continue to light candles every night when we are in Colorado and send love your way. Thinking of both of you strong amazing mamas and Caemon and holding space for you.

  19. I’ve been reading about BG for a very long time now since we started trying in 2009, and am always inspired by your love, beautiful writing and outlook on life. I am sending you all of the healing well wishes and positivity that I can find in Baltimore to help you all through this incredibly difficult time. As so many have said, this little bloggy community is so so so special and we all care so much for you. If you need anything, reach out.

  20. Thinking of you many times a day. Although we haven’t met I have followed your story. I have attached below a link to a letter that was written to grieving parents by Ram Dass. I had a tragic loss in my life, no where near the magnitude of losing a child but this letter helped me find a slight sliver of peace. I hope that it might offer you the same. Love to you Link:

    And the text of the letter:

    Dear Steve and Anita,

    Rachel finished her work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that
    leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the
    fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong
    enough to stay conscious through such teaching as you are receiving?
    Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of equanimity and
    peace amidst the screaming trumpets of their rage, grief, horror and

    I can’t assuage your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is
    Rachel’s legacy to you. Not that she or I would inflict such pain by choice,
    but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For
    something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that
    dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love
    as God loves.

    Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength.
    Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to Rachel, and thank her for being
    with you these few years, and encourage her to go on with whatever her work
    is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience.
    In my heart, I know that you and she will meet again and again, and
    recognize the many ways in which you have known each other. And when you
    meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why
    this had to be the way it was.

    Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts
    – if we can keep them open to God – will find their own intuitive way.
    Rachel came through you to do her work on earth, which includes her manner of
    death. Now her soul is free, and the love that you can share with her is
    invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space. In that deep love,
    include me.

    In love,

    Ram Dass

  21. We don’t know each other but I happened upon a picture of your sons beautiful face when a high school friend of mine posted a link to your blog. In one sitting I read all of your entries. I sobbed as I read that you both had lost your son. Your openness and sharing through his illness and passing is a beautiful testament to the love you both had for your precious boy. Your story and his story will be shared with loved ones and strangers alike. Thank you for letting us into your lives and know that your sons life will impact may who never even met him. I can imagine that words hold no comfort as you ache for your baby but I couldn’t go without giving you words of condolence from a stranger who cries for your loss.

  22. Im new to your page but I just want to say Im truly deeply sorry for your loss u and ur family are in my prayers. Maybe we could help each other for I lost my son 9 yrs ago Im doin a lil better but I still blame myself his father beat me serverly and my son was born with a lot of problems and I blame myself bc I stayed and when id leave i would always go back to him it was my first marriage we had 2 older kids and I was raised to stick with who u marry till death do u part but after my son passed away I finally left.

  23. Can’t stop thinking about you and Jodi and your amazing little boy! You all have touched so many lives. We are all hurting for you and trying to hold you up from afar. I see the sunrise and I see your beautiful Caemon. Loving and healing to you and your family!

  24. You have such strength, I see where Caemon got his! I can’t begin to imagine what the two of you are going through. We send you all of our love and are keeping you in our hearts and prayers.

  25. I have thought of your family often in these past few days and wished very much that there was something I could do to ease your pain a bit. Beautiful Caemon touched so many of us in his short life. I hope that I can live in a way that honors his memory. If you’re comfortable sharing a mailing address at some point I know there are many of us who would like to flood you with mail. Much love. You will continue to be in my thoughts.

  26. I’ve been reading since he was just a baby genius…and there are no words to tell you how we feel about you and your family. It’s amazing to never meet someone in person, but feel like you know them. My entire family is sending all of our healing and loving energy over to you both. Caemon will never be forgotten. Not by me, nor by my 7 year old son who has been following along on this journey as well. Peace to you both.

  27. In the beginning the journey was climbing a mountain. Not so difficult just a long technical one. It turned into the Mt. Everest that was always there but nobody saw. In the end it was tall. Caemon was the climber everyone here was.a.sherpa. You carried.the load and kept to the route. Now the.job is keeping Caemon’s Moms heldbup and moving. toward the summit. Caemon reached the. summit.

  28. Every night since Tuesday I’m sit at my table and cry. I am sending hugs, and love, and everything you might need right now. I know how hard it is for me, and I can’t even start to imagine how you must feel.

  29. so many things you’ve done and you’re faced with doing that you should never have to do. what a terrible list. i hope you continue to find small comforts when and where you can, and know that i, and we, and all of us bolster up some small part of it — and that it’s a testament to your sweet boy and your loving parenting.

  30. I am a longtime reader and came here to follow Caemon’s brave battle. I am so sorry for the loss of your beautiful boy. I am holding you all in my heart, with love.

  31. Have been thinking of you and your family every day. We will be here, listening, supporting, in whatever way we can.

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