Every Day in Every Way He Remains My Boy
As a mom who has lost a beloved son, I belong to the Moms support group. Each time we start our monthly group meeting, we introduce ourselves and our children whom we have lost. I smile and say, “I’m Cindy. I lost my son Erik with a K.”
Our sacred time of sharing is truly the only time in my life where I get to speak about him without having to think twice about other people’s feelings. In the outside world, I wonder if I will make people uncomfortable speaking of him, if it will seem like it’s been too long since his death, or if I’ll hear pity in their voice. Most times, I’d rather just stay by myself and not have to play any of this out with other people. However, in this one group, lasting only an hour and a half a month, I am free to speak about Erik in any terms that fit the conversation without fear of having to watch my words. Each month, surrounded by other moms feeling all the same emotions, I am reminded of what an anchor this group provides in my life.
As I found out, life so often changes on a dime. On an early spring day, as I was leaving the beauty parlor, my son Brian called me. He broke the news that Erik had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. I’ve often heard the phrase ‘it brought me to my knees’. In that horrific, shocking moment, I slid down the wall, hysterical.
Miraculously, the head Neurosurgeon at MD Anderson in Houston saw Erik immediately. This started our long roller coaster journey of hopes, prayers, determination, and finally unimaginable loss. I lost Erik in 2019, and that awful feeling of loss has yet to abate. This was so shockingly sudden that there was no time for any of us to prepare. We went through the horror of the diagnosis, the surgery, and the ensuing radiation and chemo.
Just before his surgery, I was talking with his doctor. In those moments, my grown son - father of two young girls, Abigail, 8, and Amelia, 7, and husband to Kumiko – instantly reverted to being my boy. All I could say to the doctor was. “That’s my Boy. Please just take good care of him.” And every day in every way, he remains my boy.
Erik was incredibly intelligent, organized, and meticulous. He worked on Wall Street and used his organizational skills to juggle the firm’s clients while keeping the company profitable, the customers happy, and everything legal. As his condition worsened, the hardest thing for Erik was to know that the source of his greatest sense of self - his intelligence - was slowly diminishing. He said to me. “It brought me to my knees, Mom”. Erik was with us 22 months following diagnosis, which allowed us to celebrate his 50th birthday just before he passed.
Laurie Taylor, our gracious group facilitator, has been there to truly listen to our group of moms, making no judgment and providing an outpouring of gentleness. The group experience provides a safe space to be our authentic selves as we navigate our unique journey of grief. I am so grateful for this very bright moment in my month that continues to grow in importance to me and to the rest of our moms. I have been blessed to connect with this amazing support group. This is the only group I know of that is specifically designed for moms grieving the loss of their older adult children. What a much-needed outlet for so many!