mother load

the mailbox tonight brought more hard news.
the recipient of kyle's lungs has died.
the letter from the donor people just said that he "experienced a decline in health" and that's all i know. except i remember that he came from Los Angeles and that his operation may have been done at Cedars. it hit me hard. i had felt like i was losing kyle all over again.

but that happened tonight.
this morning, when i was driving to Forest Lawn i had an image of Kyle's body starting to decay and it took me by surprise. i'm sorry for bringing this up; i know it's grotesque. i've entertained a similar thought before and it hadn't bothered me so much but this morning it was more real and i was horrified.

in the process of losing kyle, i find myself running toward or even embracing what might be off-putting. i have no choice. i haven't had a choice since the phone call. i pushed headlong toward the truth. "is he going to die?" i asked gearey directly. in the hospital i had to touch and kiss his wounded face. i had to wash his feet and hands and clean his nails. at the grave, i had to stay to see my son descend into the earth. i had to interpret every word in the ambulance bill and i had to read every page of the autopsy report (only once, though. then i put it back in the envelope and won't read it for a long time). when i asked gear if he read the report, he said "just some of it, i couldn't read it all. why would i want to? no."

i know i will visit the train station some day. i will meet with the detective and see the place he fell. i will touch the cold cement platform. i will search for signs of blood. and i will seek out the emergency technicians. and i may go back to the hospital.

what is this need? i'm not sure. part of it, though, is that kyle went through all of this by himself. he climbed, he fell, he was sped in the ambulance to the hospital, he was put on the respirator, he was taken off, he was pronounced dead, he was relieved of his organs, he had the autopsy, he was picked up by the mortuary and brought to LA in a refrigerated vehicle, he was dressed and laid in the coffin, and he was buried in the ground.

the least his mom can do--if she can't be there for him at every moment--is to learn as much as she can about it all. a mother cannot shirk from this. or at least this mother cannot.

today when i reached kyle's grave, there was the lovely wooden box of plants which ky's Aunt Di had placed next to the marker. the most prominent plant was the fragrant rosemary. i was glad she put in rosemary, as we often had rosemary growing at the house. i remembered how much we all loved hot rosemary bread. all the images that had troubled me earlier were long gone. i lit one of kyle's sticks of incense and placed it in the planter.