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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 4 of 4. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Shame on October 9, 2006, at 13:13:00
You will never know how much I loved you. The choices your mother and I made were ones that no parent should have to make. We did what we believed to be a kindness to you; not forcing you into the world for a few days or months just to have you live and die in agony. It might have been years. It might not have been as bad as the geneticist said it could be. I suppose we will never know. Doubt and guilt will forever be in my heart, wrapped around an overwhelming love for you.I will never forget your mother's screams. In that room. On that cold table. Her sobbing, her agony, and the anguish we shared. She, blissfully, does not remember what went on in that room; the amnesiac that keeps her from recalling the worst moments of her life still cannot hide her unending love for you, and the crushing loss that it makes her feel. I never left your side or hers. I carry it all in my mind, an event no father was meant to hear, but I stayed by you none the less. It was the least I could do. For both of you. Family to the end.
Your brief time with us showed us a new side of ourselves. All of our selfish wants were forgotten and we looked only to your future. You made us better people. You brought our family closer together and helped heal old grievances; all personal issues put aside to mourn your passing. I now see things in my family that were hidden to me. I see the strength and loyalty in my brother. I see the depth of my fathers emotions. I see the empathy in my mother that nearly drove her mad. Doubtless it was all there to begin with, but our love for you made it real, and I see it clearly now.
I only hope that your spirit will come back to us. Once we are healed and whole we will try again, and this time we hope we can provide you with a perfect body for you to rest in. A perfect body for a perfect soul. We look forward to our first real meeting; if you choose to come back to us. If you do not, and feel that we have taken something that was not ours to take, I pray you forgive us. We are not perfect.
I do know that when I see you next I will recognize you, whether you have returned to us or gone on to be with other, more worthy parents. Whatever your decision, I love you still.All I have to offer you now is this, your epitaph, a litany that will be in my heart forever, etched into my soul by grief and love.
I love you my son. You will always be with me, curled up in my heart, beautiful and perfect. I reach out to you with every thought, and yearn for you with every breath. Please, come back to me.
Posted by muffled on November 15, 2006, at 15:40:17
In reply to Epitaph *trigger*, posted by Shame on October 9, 2006, at 13:13:00
Why is your name shame?
There is no shame in loving one enough to set them free.
No shame.
Only love.
Muffled
Posted by Shame on November 21, 2006, at 10:30:47
In reply to Re: Epitaph *trigger* » Shame, posted by muffled on November 15, 2006, at 15:40:17
Because shame rules my life. And artifact of a damaged childhood. It's something I try and undo, but it speaks so clearly in my soul, it is nearly impossible to silence.Maybe some day I will find a quiet place.
Posted by muffled on November 21, 2006, at 12:25:05
In reply to Re: Epitaph *trigger*, posted by Shame on November 21, 2006, at 10:30:47
Yeah, I guess I pretty much know what you mean.
Its so hard to try and get rid of the old stuff.
But I working on it too.
We will get there.
Take care,
Muffled
This is the end of the thread.
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