I was blessed to be the mother of two wonderful children, my daughter, Amy, and my son, Jason.

It was the best job I ever had...and the most challenging - but full of rewards. My children were an infinite source of pleasure for me and even after their father and I divorced ( after 12 years) I never regretted being mom. Some people chase money...but for me, my kids were my real treasure.

My children grew up and set themselves onto individual paths. My daughter became a chef and owns three restaurants. My son became a goldsmith and custom jeweler. They worked hard and found both joy and success in their careers. I was always proud of them.

My son, Jason, was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma when he was 33. He faced it head-on with courage and unbelievable good humor. I was terrified and cried daily.

He lived 700 miles away and I was desperate to be there for him. I drove 14 hours to get there for his first day of treatment. I promised to follow his lead: being brave, positive and always trying to find just one thing to smile about in every day. He did very well and after a year went back to a normal life.

Nine years passed, happy years but with usual ups and downs.  When he came to visit at Thanksgiving he told his sister and me that the cancer had returned...and with a vengeance: Now he was dealing with Stage IV Lymphoma. 

He was admitted for an autologous Bone Marrow Transplant in early December 2015. It worked well enough that he was released after only 3 months in hospital. Sadly, it recurred by April's end. His Oncology team tried Immunotherapy but he developed serious side effects, infections and complications which seriously depleted his strength and left him unable to control many bodily functions.

My dear, beloved son, who ALWAYS managed to retain something of his impish childhood self well into adulthood, found it a challenge to walk down the corridor unassisted- yet he never spoke harshly, never complained and never once said, Why me...but I DID! 

As a last effort to try and extend his life, his Oncology Team, suggested a,SECOND BMT, this time from a donor. His,sister was chosen as his best possible match, although she was only a 25% match. (Only IDENTICAL TWIN siblings are 100%...and opposite sex pt/donor siblings reduce % of success).

He and his sister spent the week prior to harvest and transplant together. He knew it was his last chance. He was a young man who wanted so much to LIVE. 

He received his sister Amy's healthy cells on July 2, 2017. He did beautifully for about 6 weeks: regaining strength and appetite and his ability to walk on his own. 

The donated cells were thriving but then he developed uncontrollable Graft Versus Host Disease...with all of its horrors.

He never got to leave the hospital until December 23,2017. He was coming home- but not to LIVE. 

On his last night in hospital I just sat with him, holding his hand and rubbing his head. He was in so much pain and so heavily sedated that I was unsure he knew I was there. I leaned over to say, I love you, my buddy...and he whispered back, Love you more, momma...just as he always did. 

We got him home in the afternoon of Dec 23rd. I sat beside him and tried to offer comfort. He was suffering terribly, often crying out and BEGGING to die. Nothing will erase those words or my boy's suffering...it is imprinted like some awful brand mark on my heart and mind.

Why was he made to go through such distress? Why are doctors allowed to release dying patients without providing means to alleviate their distress and suffering? We would not allow a beloved PET to suffer...but my son? It is an absolute TRAVESTY!

CHRISTMAS EVE, 2017 at 1:10 in the afternoon in Savannah, GA my son's heroic heart ceased beating.

I amlost without him. His shining smile lit up my world and my heart has a Jason shaped space nothing can fill.

I am alive...or appear to be but totally consumed by this unmitigated grief. I can make no sense of the world nor find peace. I have many questions for God and the Universe. 

My son, at 46, was not a child...but he was ALWAYS MY BOY. 

"When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he shall make the face of heaven so fine, all the world will be in love with night and never worship the garish sun."

 Wm Shakespeare

Romeo and Juliet