It is such an odd thing to consider an aniversary of anyones death. Of course lives are counted, for the most part, in years; But for what purpose does counting the empty space after their death serve? Regardless, today is the aniversary of my first born's death. The time has gone by so fast, and yet I have missed him everyday he has not been here.
The space between has been filled by his younger brother Eli. He doesn't replace our Eoin, but he has definately given us reason to keep enjoying life, where reason was needed. Of course the anti-depressants, numerous councelling sessions and group therapy have also helped. It is an acceptance of the life we have, and trying to make the best of what we can.
The name Eoin was my choice. For months and months during Angie's pregnancy, we mulled over hundreds of different names. Isaac was one of our final choices and so was Owen. It was while searching Gaelic names that I came across Eoin, and immediately thought, "what a cool name!". Of course I had to research how to pronounce it, and even still Angela had serious doubts as he would likely be called Ian or worse E-oy-an! Eventually I won out, fully prepared to take any blame on the confussion the name would cause.
Even though I was 30 when Eoin was born, I still felt way too young to be a parent. The first time I held him in that Lloydminster delivery room, I choked back tears. It was a strange feeling, carrying so much responsibility and yet feeling so much pride. I was scared, but I was also excited to take on this new life. For the most part we were so lucky. Eoin was an amazingly cute baby, and I don't say this lightly. I know parents overinflate their children's worth, but Eoin had such amazing blue eyes, and the most infectious smile you can imagine. Of course there where days, fueled by an incessant lack of sleep, where I would have gladly pulled out my hair, had there been any to pull out. However, it was all part of the package.
Thinking back to those days, it seems like a different life now. At the very least, it seems like someone else's life. Eoin was a happy child, so much full of life. He was smart and learned words fairly quickly, He was cruising the house by the time he was a year old. I know I suspected fairly early though, that Eoin's health was not quite what it should be. The colds and the flus that seemed to be ever present. We seeked out medical attention on numerous occasions, only to have our belief of being overcautious parents confirmed by various doctors. I think at some point, when his health began to deteriorate, I even entered a state of denial. Sure he was tired, sure he was pale, it was just an illness, the doctors even said so.
When Eoin was finally diagnosed, or given a preliminary diagnosis, I intially felt relief. There was something wrong, but the doctors would fix it. As things progressed, it soon became apparent as to how truly ill our boy was. Even before chemotherapy could be started, which at the time was my biggest concern for him, Eoin took a turn for the worse. Though I didn't realize at that point, we had nearly lost him to a stroke, caused by his clotting leukemic blood. The information coming from doctors was always mixed but optimistic. Anecdotal tales of a child who had an almost identical situation, and was now playing football for his highschool brought us hope.
The hope continued after Eoin's first round of chemo. It was hard to watch him suffer through it, by far, emotionally, it was the hardest thing I have ever endured. However, it brought us a chance for a cure. Of course it didn't last, it was shortly after moving to Calgary when things took a downward turn. For us Calgary was a consolidation measure, it was an attempt to damn up things before they got worse. It was a way to deal with a sick child and a wife's third trimester. Calgary had options that Edmonton didn't in case Eoin's treatment went bad. So that was where we were. In a new city, living as nearly as homeless as can be, when it was learned that further measures would be needed to give Eoin a chance for a cure.
So there we were, having left Edmonton with all this hope that things would get better, when suddenly reality came crashing down. Children died here, one after another. Families that had been there slowly and quietly went their own way, taking their burden of emptiness with them. Death was such a reality at this point, it was personified in the pain on doctors and nurses faces, showing itself, telling me that it was eventually coming for our child.
We fought it, we tried as much as we could bare. We knew however there was only so much that could be done. When the last treatment failed, Angela and I braced ourselves. We told each other we would get through this. We spent our final week with Eoin, emotionally and physically drained. In his final days, it seemed as though Eoin knew he was about to pass, he hugged everyone he could. He was smiling up until he went to sleep for the final time.
I miss you buddy.
Love dad.
