I cried last night. It’d been awhile since I broke down and prayed to God. Funny how art can pull things out of you that you’re aware are swimming under the surface, but you have been able to keep at bay. After watching a heartbreaking episode of Deadwood, the phenomenal HBO western series, I was so affected that I couldn’t stop the tears from coming.
In the episode, a main character’s son dies, tragically. Though, is it anything else but a tragedy when a child dies? This boy’s death was sudden, violent and unexpected. However, it made me too aware of my own son. My Jake.
Maybe because it was late, or because I was up, alone, at 12:30, but the tears came and I was overcome with the need to drop down and pray. I haven’t been the most religious man in a couple of years. Those lingering pangs of anger caused by cystic fibrosis and the how’s and why’s continue to hold me back. But last night, it was all I could do to hold back… to beg for mercy.
But that’s the thing… what can God do? Jake’s illness is progressive. It’s not going to go away unless a cure is found.
Lately, he’s had a more noticible cough. Julie says she can hear a difference in the sound of his cough. At first, I couldn’t. But by the end of my vacation, I noticed it too. It eats us up inside. In some way, he’s gotten worse.
You do everything you can, within reason, means and energy to make sure your child is healthy. We are good parents. Ahh, but that’s the thing about it, no matter what you do, CF is going to continue to attack his body and he’ll gradually get worse.
Remember my resolution to smile more? It’s hard at times to do that when this monster is creeping around your child, latching on to him.
I cried last night. Not the first time. Definitely not the last.