Most likely you followed the link from my first page or the seventh or eighth page of Random Thoughts stories. Here are some more, all about my middle son Greg, and I hope these are just as amusing and thought provoking. And, as always, your comments are appreciated.
The car never really was Greg’s. But it’s always been thought of as his car. And it’s not a car, it’s an SUV. Right now, it’s sitting at a gas station about forty miles south of Minneapolis waiting to be towed to a repair place, at least as far as I know. I got a phone call from Evelyn yesterday when I was out, and the message she left me was mumbled and made no sense. Then a few hours later, Lowell called, but I was annoyed with him for not calling for several days so I was letting the answering machine get it. He said he was in an accident, but he wasn’t hurt and I ran to pick up the phone.
I had already left Minneapolis when they leased the Rodeo. We had a Land Rover Discovery that I just loved but I knew I couldn’t afford it since the best gas mileage it ever got was 12 mph. So they were left with that and it had a few more months on the lease. So it must be five years since they got the Rodeo. Five years ago October, Greg would have just turned 16. Everyone in Edina drives to school, and Greg was no exception. I wrote a story about when he got his driver’s license and how he gloated over me that he passed on the first time. However, he wasn’t all that great a driver as he dented up the car on several occasions, and when it came time to turn the car in, my ex decided to buy it instead of paying whatever charges they would have imposed on the condition of the car.
Greg personalized the car, as he did just about everything. There were stickers for bands on the windows. He had Blink 182, Less Than Jake, MXPX and 22 Jacks. He controlled the radio. Just under the radio, in a little space where tapes would go, sat a little head less than an inch high. One day, we had gone to Linden Hills so I could go to the Bibelot Shop and of course, since there was a toy store on the same block, we all had to go there. I don’t know if the head was already off or Greg broke it off, but when we got back to the car, he had this little head from a child’s sized soccer/foosball game. He put it in that spot and there it stayed.
When I was in town, I usually drove the Rodeo. It wasn’t as nice as my Discovery had been or as familiar as my Saturn , but it got me where I needed to go. If we all went together, I let Greg drive. I remember letting him drive a few days after his brain surgery. One day, after Greg had died, Evelyn and I went to pick Lowell up from his school and we found a small cassette recorder in one of the little compartments. Evelyn was annoyed because it was hers, and she had only lent it to Greg. I turned it on and there was his voice, saying how he was invincible and nothing could hurt him. He sounded so determined. We just listened for a minute or so and managed to stop crying before Lowell got out of school. I now have the recorder and the tape.
Finally Lowell turned 16 and a few months later, he got his driver’s license. This was a big convenience for his dad because Lowell could take himself to and from school, and run errands. By then Evelyn was done with college and living back at the house, but she wasn’t always available to be his chauffeur.
Now I know what Evelyn was talking about on her message. She had driven out with my ex to where the car was, as she said, to be a calming influence. He told me he swerved to avoid hitting a deer in a wooded area outside of town, and overcorrected too much and the Rodeo rolled over and landed in a ditch full of water. Somehow, they had pulled the car out of the ditch and moved it from the accident scene. No one was hurt, thank goodness.
One of the first things I asked Lowell, once I was sure he was okay, was where was the head. It always felt like Greg was with us because of that silly thing. He said he had remembered to take it as well as the stickers, because he thought the car was totaled and he wouldn’t see it again. Lowell was very upset about the whole incident, about his lack of good judgment and about ruining Greg’s car. I think it’s the latter that is upsetting us all the most. If the car is totaled, there will be one less piece of Greg’s life around. It wasn’t that a car was wrecked yesterday, but that another link to Greg is gone.
©2 September 2002I am now a big fan of some of Greg's favorite bands. I would suffer and listen to them when we were together, in the car or I'd be in his room, but I couldn't have told you who they were back then. It all just seemed like a lot of similar noise.
On the old computer at the house, Greg had set up a fragment of a song as the start up sound. I never paid any attention to it at the time. I just remember thinking it took so long to finish. Then one day, after he died, I listened to the words. I found out who the group was and what was the name of the song. The band was Poor Old Lu and the song was Digging Deep.
This was back when Napster was at the peak of its popularity and it wasn't long before I downloaded the song as an MP3. I then wanted to double check the lyrics, so I searched on the net and copied them. Here is what his start sound sang:
gone thru life and death
and what remains
if any blemish hang your head in shame
like a fever that just keeps you down
would you simply let it stay around?
Much to my amazement, I found out the band was Christian oriented. It had been a long time since we, as a family, went to church. I was surprised to find that this appealed to Greg, but in retrospect, I guess he needed to think about God. He never talked about it with me. One of his other favorite groups, Sunny Day Real Estate was also Christian. I next downloaded In Circles.
This started me on a quest to have more of Greg's presence with me, and he loved music. He was in a band called Cozmic Ray with some friends. I never got to hear them perform. On one of his old webpages, Greg talked about his band. They performed some of their own songs and covered ones from other bands. One was a song called Good, by what is now Evelyn's favorite band, Better than Ezra. That song was next to download.
I added some Unwritten Law and Rancid. On his 11th grade class picture, he is wearing a Rancid t-shirt. I had no clue what were the hit songs, so I just picked ones with names I liked. I started playing them along with those other songs.
Blink 182 was next. I downloaded All The Small Things. One day, Lowell told me Greg would play Blink's song, Dammit and Lowell would sing. I downloaded that as soon as I got home. No matter what my playlist of mp3s has, it always has the above mentioned songs.
Each time I went to Minneapolis, I would spend time in his room and try to get some comfort and feel his presence. The walls were still covered with posters, and he had a bulletin board full of concert tickets and other items he thought important. Also, each time, I would bring something back. I have his Rancid t-shirt. I have his Blink 182 hat, two t-shirts and a decal.
He had two local bands that he liked. One is Flipp and the other, Lifter Puller which broke up recently. I never knew that Greg thought the only song he could wake up to was To Live and Die in LBI, by Lifter Puller. I found out reading a tribute one of his friends wrote for the memorial website I created. That was a hard one to find as an MP3, but I persisted. He knew the members of both bands, and got to play once with Flipp. Lifter Puller dedicated their last album to Greg's memory. Several of Lifter Puller band members attended Greg's memorial service and the lead singer, Craig Finn, who told of how knowing Greg affected his life.
I have since downloaded more of most of those bands, and have gotten to tell them apart and know the words. Greg would have been proud of me.
There is still one song I need identified. One time when I was back there, they had gotten a cam, and Greg and I made an avi. I think it's a total of 4 seconds but is 10 megs. I have it on both my drives, in several places. In the background is this cd playing while I tell him I love him and he says he loves me too. I have no clue who the band is. Maybe when Lowell is here in a few days, he can tell me who the band is. I need that song to be part of my collection of Greg's music I listen to when I need to have him near me.
©30 June, 2002The following stories are also on Greg's memorial website
Today is Greg's 18th birthday. He was born at 1:07 am, CST in Minneapolis, MN. My pregnancy with him was relatively easy, being my second. I realized i was in labor with him, when i went to the grocery store for the second time on October 1. I had done my main shopping that morning at Byerly's, but when i got home, i realized i had forgotten bread. So after lunch, i went over to Lunds, which was less than 5 minutes away. Before i left the house, i used the bathroom. When i got to Lunds, i had to use the bathroom again, and as i was waiting in line to check out, i had to use the bathroom again. I realized it was probably my water leaking. I had one loaf of bread, and i wanted to say to the people ahead of me, excuse me, but i think i'm in labor. But i didn't. The checkout girl and the woman in front of me were discussing some story in a tabloid magazine. I went home and called my doctor, who said to come on in. So i took Evelyn over to my girl friend Susan's house, as had been prearanged, and Fred and i went off to the doctor's office. And yes, i was in labor. I checked into the hospital and was put in a very nice birthing room. Unlike Evelyn's birth, my doctor was there for Greg's delivery. I had switched obstetricians after her birth. At least he had warned me he might not be on call, it could be one of his partners, so i had seen them during the nine months, but i had wanted Dr. Gaziano there. Because my water was leaking, Greg had to be born soon, so they gave me pitocin. And put an internal monitor in me. Pitocin makes the contractions stronger, and i could see them peak and ebb on the monitor as i worked at breathing through each one. Fred swears that at one point during a contraction, i called my doctor "Manny Baby". His first name was Emanuel, but i never thought of him as that. Eventually, the pain became too much for me...and i asked them for something. They gave me a drug called nubane (sp) and Greg was born about an hour later. I never really thought i was having a boy; i was certain i was carrying a girl, who would be named Caroline Susannah. Of course, Fred and i had discussed boys names, and we had agreed on Gregory and Kendall... only we hadn't decided which for the first name, which for the middle name till after Greg was born. He was 8 pounds, 4 ounces, and 20 inches. He had big blue eyes and light sandy colored hair. And i fell in love with him immediately, just like i had with Evelyn.... all the pain i had just gone through completely erased from my mind.
Greg felt sort of forgotten, being the middle child. But that was never the case. He had a sweet disposition and every one liked him. He never was without a friend, always invited to play with someone. Today, he should be having a birthday party with his friends, maybe playing some frisbee golf, or music, or just hanging around. He should be in his senior year of high school, thinking about where to apply to college. He so much was looking forward to voting in the next election. It hurts too much to think about his potential.... what he could have been, what he should have gotten a chance to do or try in his life. The places he will never go. Greg taught me just about everything i know about computers. Music became his main interest after computers, and he was a very talented musician. He loved the meat ball sandwiches at Joey D's, meat lovers skillets at Denny's. He hated scalloped potatoes. He was content with simple things He never complained, though he had plenty of reason to. He was just an ordinary teenager, and yet he was so very special. He was never embarrassed to kiss me in front of his friends, or hold my hand in public. He and i fought bitterly over some things, usually involving him staying out at night. He had a way of trying to break down my resistance, but it never worked. Yet he knew i loved him, and i know he loved me. The last words we heard him speak were i love you.... as he was wheeled away for surgery. He died in a different Minneapolis hospital on July 7, 1999. Today he should have been 18 years old.
© 2 October, 1999This is a story about a family adventure we all had, but it quite an impact on Greg.
Ever since I was figuratively dragged kicking and screaming to a professional hockey game, where I fell in love with the game, hockey has been a part of my family's life. But this isn't about hockey, really. It's about a charity auction and what we bid on and won. Going to a North Stars practice and having breakfast with Brian Propp.
I can't recall what year this was, but it had to be 1990 or 91. The Mall of America hadn't been built yet, which would have made Evelyn 12, Greg 10 and Lowell 6. The benefit was for Children's Cancer Research Fund (CCRF). I'd been a volunteer worker on most of them the years I lived in Minneapolis. Long before I ever imagined how much they would become a part of my life.
As a fundraiser, they had a big gala event each year, usually featuring a name talent. Fred and I went, and spent a good part of the evening at the auction. There were a couple of items we were extremely interested in... one being a week at the Nesbit's cottage in Balsam Lake, Wisconsin, and the other were hockey related. We had bid on skating with Bobby Smith, but that was going too high for us. Bobby was drafted by the North Stars and had recently been traded back to them from Montreal, and people were excited to see him back in town. So we opted for trying to get attending to a practice session with Brian Propp. Brian had recently been traded to the North Stars by Philadelphia, so he wasn't as well known in Minneapolis, and his item wasn't being as fiercely bid on as the skating with Bobby. At the close of the auction, one of us stood by the cabin to make certain ours was the winning bid, and the other stood by Brian Propp. It turned out we got them both.
We called Brian and ended up exchanging phone messages for a while. I believe the tape with his messages are still up in the cabinet above the phone. He could have said, just you two parents can come, or one parent and one child, but he was happy to have all five of us come. Greg was still playing hockey then, so he was exceptionally excited. Though, he had actually skated on the Met Center ice previously, during a regular season North Star's game intermission as a mite. This time however, we got to go behind the scenes.
We met Brian at the player's entrance to the Met Center on a cold Sunday morning. We entered the arena from the "backdoor", like VIP's. The inside of the now demolished Met Center was very utilitarian. Cement walls, pipes exposed. The males of the family got to go into the player's dressing room. I guess it was a big thrill to see players like Mike Modano getting dressed. Evelyn and I wandered around the stands, where we met coach Bob Gainey's daughter. She took us to the family room, where player's families can watch the game or just socialize. We watched the practice from the player's bench or penalty box.
The highlight of the day for Greg was getting to ride over to Perkin's in Brian's Jaguar. It was British racing green and not a very appropriate car for a Minnesota winter. The boys bugged Brian about letting them ride over to Perkins with him, and he was very gracious and said, Sure. Then Greg got to sit next to Brian at the restaurant. I remember what Brian had... pigs in a blanket. I couldn't tell you what i had... or anyone else. His fiancee and some other friends met us at the restaurant, but Brian gave most of his attention of the boys. He couldn't have been nicer and more personable.
Brian was so nice to the kids and he made a big impression on them, but especially Greg. He never lost his love for the game, even after he could no longer play. During this year's Stanley Cup playoffs, Greg would call me and we would discuss the game. When I was in Minnesota for some of the games, he and I would watch together, and he would give me a very thoughtful analysis of the game.
When we bid on the auction item, we had no idea what we were really going to get. But we got much more than we paid for, and for that we will always be grateful to Brian Propp. He wasn't a big super star, and he probably won't make the Hall of Fame, but he is and was in our book.
© 30 September, 1999I wrote this story after a phone call from my ex, when I was living in North Carolina. I didn't sleep at all that night, and looking back, I now realize this was the beginning of the end of Greg's life. I wonder if he knew it, too.
seems like i wrote this exact story a year ago.....about life's bumps in the road. i thought about posting it in memory of Duke... but decided against it.... well... tonight, the phone rang. it was my ex. i knew it wasn't good news.. he never calls with good news.. never did when we were married.. only to tell me he was going out of town.. .or he wanted me to do something for him. i could tell by the tone of his voice... it was about greg. he should have been going in to see his cancer doctor sometime this month.... i even mentioned it to my ex in an email... well... he said greg was in ICU... with a blood clot in his brain. another piece of my heart broke... and the tears started falling immediately. you see... when greg was born.. i was convinced he was gonna die... he was a 2nd child.. a boy.. low birth weight.. and my mom's sister lost a baby to crib death. at the time.. there was a dr at children's hospital in minneapolis who was testing babies for symptoms of crib death... i wanted my pediatrician to give us a referral to go to that program.. he looked at me like i was crazy... and i switched drs... and greg went through the testing.. .and he didn't have any of the symptoms they were testing for... and obviously he didn't die of crib death... but i always had this feeling about him. he's such a sweet boy.. everyone likes him..he has tons of friends.. always has. sure he fights with his brother and sister... but he's a great kid. not brilliant like his sister... more like me... smart enough.. but why put out the extra effort? i listened to fred... and started thinking of all the things i had to do in the next few hours..
i made flight reservations to minnesota.. even though i just left there 10 days ago... i have a cab coming to take me to the airport.. im packed.. more or less.. though i have no idea what i threw in my suitcase... i have some money... my medication... some phone numbers i'll need.. .like to cancel the drs appointment i have on thursday... i emailed my friend to come look in on my cat... i set myself no mail on the fly fishing list... i filled out the hold mail notice and put it in my mailbox... and all i want to do is be with my son. i talked to all 3 of my kids tonight... evelyn, up in duluth.. who can't leave till after she has an exam tomorrow morning.. lowell.. who's home alone as usual....well.. not alone.. but not with any one in the family... and i called the hospital and they put me through to greg. i was surprised... i was just hoping to talk to a nurse on duty.... greg sounded good... it's not his first time in the hospital... though ICU must be pretty scary... i joked with him... and told him i'd be there in the morning.. probably when he's getting his MRI. i called a few of my girlfriends...i just have to talk things out... it calms me down.
i hate going to that hospital. that's where evelyn's and my first care partner was treated. it's almost 3 years since her death... 3 years when greg was first diagnosed with cancer. all my volunteering was supposed to protect my kids... and yet.. not 4 months after i sat hugging chris' mom while she was undergoing surgery... even though it was obvious she was dying.... i sat there with my soon to be ex... but i couldn't hug him. it was too late for our marriage...to remove a tumor in his shoulder... they took out his whole left shoulder and his breast bone.... he has such big scars from the surgery.. not to mention the missing shoulder ... and then i went back there again.. when greg had 2 tumors removed from his lung last feb...i didn't go back for the subsequent surgery on his other lung... since he recovered from that in a matter of days. but tomorrow.. i'll be taking that all too familiar drive back to the U of M... going thru the same tunnel from the parking lot... because again.. it will be bitter cold... and getting in the elevator.. at least greg is on a different floor.. or will be... but i'll have to sit in the same damn waiting room... and relive it all...because undoubtably greg will need surgery... one doesn't just stop bleeding in one's brain on one's own... and i pray there is no cancer in his brain... oh how i wish i could trade places with him.... let him at 17 with his life ahead of him be whole and healthy
i talked again to my ex... i knew he wouldn't be sleeping either... he's in NYC on business.. and he's taking the first flight out too... we decided i would go to the house first.. get lowell. and then drive out to the hospital.. assuming greg's car is there.. if not.. i'll have the cab wait.. or have my girlfriend roberta drive me... until i see greg .. hold him.. i won't be breathing right... and even after i see him... skinny kid with my side of the family's nose and ears.... i won't be able to breathe.
i'll have to put on a smile for him... and cry later... when he's not around. last year when greg got sick again.. i wondered if i would have to move back to MN to be with him... it's not what i want to do... but i will if it's what i have to do. i don't like the feeling i have in my gut... the feeling that this isn't going to turn out well. that my fears for when greg he was a baby are grounded.... but i won't know for a while longer yet.. and damn but i hate to wait.
©11 January, 1999He's just a beat up grey stuffed elephant that Greg named Spud. I'm holding him, because he was my son's. The inside picture on the card distributed at his memorial service shows a four year old Greg holding him, dressed in some old clothes of Greg's. The clothes are gone, and all that remains on Spud is the hospital nametag, that states, "Spud-I belong to Greg". I forget which time they put the tag on Spud, since he went with Greg each time to the hospital. He was there in the operating room when Greg died. And now I have him. I let Lowell, my youngest have him for a while, but he never treated Spud with respect. So Lowell let me take him home with me. Whenever Lowell needs to be in Greg's presence, he can go into his bedroom. My ex cleaned it up a bit, but otherwise, Greg's room is pretty much the same as it was.
I keep Spud in my bedroom, on the top shelf of a bookcase, so I can look at him. I guess that's my little shrine dedicated to Greg's memory. There is also a painting of me that he did in school, probably in 5th grade. The mug I had made for him when he was maybe 3 is up there, and the hospital issue toothbrush I made him use that morning. I have a few of his hospital bracelets, too. I've slept holding Spud a few times, and I can't tell you how many times I've soaked his body with my tears. Today is one of those days.
On Spud's left foot, he still has the threads that mark his toes. Same thing on his left hand, while the right just has on string left. His right ear is coming loose, and if had a mouth originally, it's gone. From the picture of a young, healthy Greg, it doesn't appear that Spud did have a mouth. He's got a big pulled spot on his back, but he's not losing any of his stuffing. I would state without a doubt this is my most prized possession. He would be the first thing I'd take if my house were on fire.
When Greg had his first surgery for cancer, he was 14. He never acted scared, though I'm certain he must have been. Spud went with Greg to the hospital and while Greg would never admit it, he needed Spud with him. So Spud accompanied Greg each subsequent stay at the hospital. It was a year ago Greg had his fourth surgery, the brain tumor one. Spud was there. Greg was a pro at being in the hospital, but no one wants their child to be a pro at that. Spud was with Greg during his fatal surgery, when his heart stopped. I think when we went to look at Greg's body, Spud was with him on the gurney. I'm not positive, as I'm sure I was in shock. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I still can see Greg's lifeless body, an eerie whitish blue color. Underneath the cloth covering Greg, I could see the new scars that they had inflicted on him, trying to remove his kidney. I wanted to pull the sheet down, but I suppose they just sewed him up just enough. I ran my hand over his face, feeling the coolness of his body. I kissed his forehead, and then we left the room.
Greg should be getting ready to graduate from high school. He should have just gone to his prom with date. Instead, I am reminded of a year ago, when he was recovering from the brain surgery. It was very risky and the doctor used all the modern technology to make sure he was cutting where the tumor was and nowhere else, since the tumor was in the motor strip. By that evening, Greg was alert, and complaining to me. I fed him ice chips and let him bitch at me all he wanted. Spud and I watched over Greg while he slept. At 17, Greg didn't need to sleep with a stuffed animal, but that didn't mean he didn't want Spud with him when he needed a little extra reassurance. The day before Greg died, I insisted on taking some pictures with my new digital camera. Greg didn't want me to, but I overruled him. In that last picture of my three children, Greg is holding Spud. And now I am holding Spud, and in some way, still holding Greg.
© 23 May, 2000This was one of my son's favorite bands. I never heard them play, but he used to go to every one of their concerts. I know he met most of the band members and that he had salvaged the greater part of a guitar they had broken at one of their concerts. He even had a Lifter Puller hat made for himself. Greg loved music, and loved going to concerts and playing in his band. I've had the need to feel him closer to me these last few days, so I've been listening to the music he liked. And crying.
This particular CD was dedicated to Greg. It's called Fiesta + Fiasco. If you have really good eyesight, which I don't, you can read the dedication they wrote. At one point, Evelyn read it to me off her copy of this CD. Some of the band members even showed up at his memorial service and spoke about what knowing Greg meant to them. I know my daughter and son and ex still go to their concerts and communicate with at least the lead singer, Craig.
I've had this CD for over a year. But I never listened to it before today. I listened to the mp3s I have downloaded off of Napster that were by bands I knew Greg liked and sometimes sit and listen to those and cry. Bands like Sunny Day Real Estate, Poor Old Lu, Blink 182 and Rancid. I've learned to like their songs and can sing along to them. I'm sure now that I've opened the Lifter Puller CD, I'll listen to it more and learn to like them. Greg did, and I'm sure he'd like this CD. Only he never got to hear it. At least not on this earth.
© 11 April, 2001Yesterday morning I had a holiday brunch to attend. AAUW broke with their longstanding tradition of having this event at the Pine Cone Inn two years ago, before I lived here. Last year, we went to Zuma's restaurant, and it was quite nice and the food was delicious. This year, we even went further afield and were having it in Prescott Valley and at the Prescott Country Club. Most people who live in Prescott look down on PV, as it is usually called. But we had a good turnout and the food was quite good and why I am sure there were plenty of grumbling about the distance they had to travel from Prescott, my guess is everyone enjoyed themselves.
However, this isn't about that. Though, had I not been out and going in that direction, I wouldn't have seen this little chunk of rainbow. It was partly cloudy, but it wasn't raining anywhere that I could tell. But as I got closer to the country club, I noticed this little rainbow. I tilted my head different ways to make sure it wasn't some sort of reflection through my windshield. It wasn't. It was a real rainbow.
Since my son Greg died, rainbows have taken on a special significance. They make me feel as though he is with me, and whenever it rains, I look every direction for a rainbow. Coming home the other day from volunteering at the Boys and Girls Club, it started sprinkling, and as I arrived home, got out of my car to get my mail, I saw a big, beautiful half arc of a rainbow crossing the sky. I started crying a little as I stood there just looking at the rainbow. I recently bought a photograph of a place near the Grand Canyon with a rainbow in it, because I can sense Greg sitting on the rocks in the foreground of the photograph.
So here I am, all dressed up, and I get a message from Greg in the form of this little piece of rainbow. It didn't help that I was listening to Patricia Kaas on the tape player. She is a French singer, but she does an occasional song in English. The one I was listening to was called, A Space in My Heart. She has an incredible voice and all of a sudden the song took on a new meaning for me. It wasn't about a man and woman type of longing. It became a longing to be with Greg. And of course, the tears started trickling down my cheeks.
I was early because normally, as membership vice president, I have to be there early. I pulled into the parking lot and lost sight of my rainbow. There were only a handful of cars there, so I knew I arrived ahead of the membership. I was planning on sitting there for a few minutes, to compose myself. Then I saw Shirley, so I wiped my eyes and got out of the car. I didn't say anything about my rainbow, and she is a good enough friend to not say anything about my red eyes.
I don't need a rainbow to feel Greg's presence, but it was nice to see that little square of light reflecting through the clouds. It's as thought Greg knew I needed an extra hug and made sure I got it. He always was like that and it doesn't surprise me he still is in death.
©10 December, 2000It hit me today. A week after Greg's birthday. The unstoppable crying, wishing he were still here. Last Tuesday, he would have turned 20 years old. I would have spoken to him on the phone, wished him a happy birthday, told him I love him. I speak to him daily, and I know he hears me.
I like to listen to songs Greg liked. One of the bands he liked is called Unwritten Law. When napster was in existence, I downloaded several of their songs, not knowing anything about them, except what Lowell told me. I got to like the song, Life's a Holiday, and would sing along with it, sometimes, depending on my mood, changing the words to life's a piece of shit. Then I started listening to one of their songs called, Before I go. It's about teenage suicide, but I know Greg knew he was dying. Maybe he was thinking about this song the morning of his surgery. I know he never would have committed suicide. He didn't want to have cancer. He did accept his fate with a graciousness most people never find.
Two other bands he really liked were Sunny Day Real Estate and Poor Old Lu. On the old computer at the house, the start up sound was a clip from the Poor Old Lu song, Digging Deep. "Gone through life and death and what remains, if any blemish remains, hang your head in shame, like a fever that just keeps you down, would you simply let it stay around?" I never gave any thought to the lyrics when I'd start up that computer, never asked who the band was. Greg liked changing things on computers. One day, at an important meeting, his dad turned on his computer, and the start up sound was Homer Simpson saying, ummmm, forbidden doughnut.
After Greg died, I also downloaded several songs from those two bands. I would listen to Digging Deep, and cry. It still makes me cry. Both those bands are Christian bands, more than rock and roll bands. There's another line in Digging Deep, "I was distant, God is near". Does this mean Greg needed God, or found comfort in God's presence near the end? I'm sure he liked the songs for the songs themselves, but the message contained had to mean something to Greg. How I would love to be able ask him.
©9 October, 2001Twenty-seven years ago it was 1981.I was living in Minneapolis in an eighty-year-old house with my husband and daughter, Evelyn, who would soon turn two. I was nine months pregnant, due at any time. I knew I was having another girl; I refused to consider any other option. In a perfect world, instead of writing this, I'd be writing about the accomplishments of my twenty seven year old child, who surprised me by being a boy. Instead, I am looking back again with tears and sadness, regrets and questions.
October 1st was a Thursday and I took Evelyn to her Montessori preschool and went to Byerly's for groceries. For some reason, to the best of my faulty recollection, Fred was home and after our lunch, I ran out to Lund's grocery story because I had forgotten bread. It was much closer to our house than any other store. It was while I was there, I realized my water was leaking and I would be going to the hospital soon. We dropped Evelyn off with my friend Susan, and we drove downtown to the hospital to once again experience the wonder of the birth process.
The doctor I had chosen was on call that night and delivered my Gregory Kendall at 1:04 am October 2. He weighed 8 pounds, 4 ounces. He had big beautiful blue eyes and blond hair, quite the contrast from his sister. He stole my heart in an instant. And through no fault of his own, shattered it some seventeen years later. Thank goodness I didn't know that then. I took him home and we had our family and life went on. We moved to Memphis where I got pregnant one more time, with Lowell. Eventually, due to a job change, we moved back to Minnesota and chose Edina for the schools.
Greg was outgoing and always had friends wanting his time. I should have guarded every minute selfishlessly and never let him out of my sight. He was a good student, loved to play hockey as a kid. His father got him interested in music and he took up the bass. He was never ashamed of being with me and held my hand openly in Southdale shopping mall, even though it was highly likely we could run into one of his friends. Then one Friday in April, 1996, he told me his shoulder hurt. I was making dinner and I asked him, how badly? He said not that bad, and I said I'd call the pediatrician in the morning. I forgot and the next night, sitting in a restaurant, I looked over at him and noticed his shoulder. There was a bump. It was big. We all went home and Fred took him over to Fairview hospital. I just knew he had cancer. Call it instinct or dumb luck, but I knew. They were gone for several hours, and Fred called and said they would be there even longer. I put Evelyn and Lowell to bed and sat at a similar computer monitor and chatted. Greg was the one who taught me just about everything I knew about computers. I remember when Fred came home from work one night and told us when he turned on his laptop, everyone was shocked to hear Homer Simpson say, ummmmmm, forbidden doughnut. Without telling him, Greg had changed the laptop start up sound. Now my Greg was beginning the fight of his life.
They came home at 2 in the morning and Fred had the name of a doctor at the University of Minnesota to call on Monday. We had to go to some other doctor first, to get a referral. Our married life was a broken disaster by that time; now the entire existence of our family was imploding. Our differences put aside, Fred and I were a united front whenever it came to our children. We saw the doctor, then the other doctor. Greg had his first surgery a few weeks later and faced it with courage and never complained about how his left arm just hung by his side. Before that operation, Dr. Clohisy said, if even one cell breaks free and he gets another tumor, it'll be fatal. He probably said it more professionally than that, but I got the message. Greg had one of the rarest bone cancers with one of the lowest chances for survival. I wondered why, what had caused this.
Those years are kind of fuzzy now. Fred and I were in the process of divorcing, I had moved to Portland, Maine, then Cary, North Carolina and finally here, Prescott. Evelyn graduated high school and started college. Lowell was getting taller and in a French immersion school and having problems that no therapist could get fix on. I'd come back to Minnesota on a regular basis to be with the boys even though it was so painful to be back there. I wanted Greg and Lowell to move with me, but I understood they couldn't and wouldn't. I should have stayed in Minnesota and with Greg, only he was his own independent person and he was always hanging out with his friends. He was in a band called Cosmic Ray or playing Frisbee golf. I missed it when he got his driver's license, which I now have. I should have never let him out of my sight for a minute and maybe I could have protected him from this.
The year 1999 was the beginning of the end. Greg died on July 7, 1999. I've written about all this before and even now, I can't sit here and not cry. Spud is sitting by me now, one of my sources of strength. I have itunes running and am trying to listen primarily to things Greg liked. What would my Greg be like if he were still here? Would he have gone to his dream college, Amherst? He fell in love with the campus on our college tour back in 1995. Would he be married and have kids? What kind of job would he have? Would I talk to him every day on the phone like I do with Evelyn? Would he still like the same kind of music or even play in a real band? Or would he have had to suffer through more operations, losing himself a piece at a time till there was nothing left? The invisible hole in my life is so unfathomable and yet I try to go on, and to keep his memory alive.
Hopefully, the other kids will keep his web site going if the time comes I no longer can. Today, after a dream last night in which Greg gave me the inspiration, I did something more permanent towards that endeavor. I got a tattoo. It's on my left shoulder blade, where his first tumor was. In the dream, he described to me what I should get. It's the number 17, his eternal age, with his name written across the numbers. Over the 7, is a halo. The tattoo artist took my crude drawing and made it into something beautiful and meaningful. When I was getting it, Lowell said it was sick, which is apparently high praise. I can't believe I actually did this, but I can't explain how comforting it is to have this tribute to my child on the same spot the end of his life began.
On October 2 it will again be Greg's birthday. I think I will get a cake to acknowledge the day. I won't have them put happy birthday on it. For the last nine years, there would have been only seventeen candles, just like there will for years and years to come. Lowell and I will try to find a time when we can have a piece together and he'll hug me and I'll hold on to him for dear life. He's working that day. Nancy has offered to do something with me, but I probably will decline. Spud and I will be together and I'll hold him and cry into him. I joke that he must be mostly salt by now. Spud was with Greg when he died, so at least he wasn't alone. Now I have Spud so I'm not alone. He still has the hospital ID tag on his leg that says I belong to Greg. Lucky Spud. To be a part of Greg's life, just like me. I think I'll wear one of Greg's old shirts if it doesn't hurt too much and I can almost pretend he's with me, hugging me. How I wish I could hug him one more time. I'd never stop hugging and kissing him. I'll never let his memory die while I'm alive. That's one promise I can easily keep. I love you, Greg and miss you more than words can ever say. But now my left shoulder will tell the world that you were special and loved and that the world is a sadder place without you in it.
©1 October 2008There are more stories I have written to read. Please remember these are my original stories and thoughts, and to copy or otherwise use them without my permission is a copyright violation. I would love to hear your random thoughts on any of these stories.