A Year Ago Today I nearly lost my son
You can see that writing for me has ground to a screeching halt (probably literally, in the literal, not figurative, sense). It happened a year ago on this day, one day after Timo's 17th birthday. One year ago on this night, it was a night like any other. Routine. Normal. Kids doing kid things. Caleb and Priscilla back in their first couple weeks of college, away from us. Timo working his full-time tree-trimming job. He had just had a nasty incident with a wasps nest that had caused his entire arm to swell and had to spend a day in bed with fever and chills. He had so many stings we couldn't count them. He was on the mend from that. He had been back at work just a day or two, and the night before we had taken him to an all-you-can-eat dinner which he enjoyed with us - laughing and choosing his favorite foods - mostly meat. We were doing okay. I always carry my own melancholy, and hold a world within me, a reflective, prayerful, yearning. So a year ago, I suppose life was as stable as it could be. It had been 2 months since we had moved Sam's Mom to live with his sister in Pennsylvania. She had lived in our home for nearly 14 years. I was not 'on duty' the recent 3 years of her oversight, as I had turned that over to another of Sam's sisters, who also lives with us. I had thought that turning over her care after a decade meant I was no longer carrying the inner angst or concern that oversight requires. When she moved out in July last year, I realized then that I had been aware of her needs and sudden emergencies more than I had realized.
I want to be clear: I considered it an honour and privilege to have her with us. I felt it was our calling to bring her into our home for her senior years, to bless, encourage, support, help, and assist her in any way we could. As the years passed and her brain injury worsened, I understood the time to be her season of being loosed from this frail flesh, and it was my season of going to the Jesus School of Servanthood. I don't say this because I served her, but because I watched her serve me. I have more to say on that, but I'll leave it there for now.
A year ago, I had entered a season of relief - that I was no longer on back-up 'call' for my fragile mother-in-law. God gave me 2 months. And then our world was turned upside down.
Our son, Timothy, had purchased for himself, with his own hard-earned money, a motorcycle. (I'll spare you the family dynamics and behind-the-scenes goings on as to how we navigated these difficult, murky waters of having a different outlook with less enthusiasm than his).
He actually had listened to us, and heard our concerns. I'm so grateful that even though there have been so many difficult times with raising our kids, each one of them, even those who have the hardest time engaging, listen to us. They don't always yield or do everything we want. But in this, Timo was listening. He had decided to sell his motorcycle after a few months of riding it. We were all so relieved.
He had found a buyer and it was set to sell on the 31st. But then the guy called and changed plans to meet the following day.
Timo wanted to fix a small plastic piece on it so it would be in perfect condition for the new owner, and decided to take it out for one final ride to pick up the part. Because most Auto-parts stores were closed at 9 p.m. and it was late, he took off for a different one farther away. Sam and I were heading to bed, and I always wanted to check where Timo was before heading to bed. He wasn't in his room. He wasn't in the house. I couldn't find him. So I phoned him. It was 9:47 p.m. when I called. He told me where he was and what he was doing. I wanted to have a stern word with him at that moment but knew it wasn't a good idea to agitate a kid riding a motorcycle at night time. So I vowed to have that word upon his return.
8 minutes later, as I was about to turn off the light, I saw my phone light up - it was already on silent, and I normally wouldn't have seen a call come in. But I just happened to glance there at that moment. I picked up. It was Timo.
"Uh, can you come get me?"
"Sure, are you ok?" I asked.
"Uh, yeah, I just fell off my bike."
In that moment I still didn't worry. His voice seemed clear and I didn't have a major concern anything was very wrong. Until I heard another voice in the background.
"Is that your Mom?" a voice said.
"Yeah, she'll come get me."
"We've called an ambulance - you need to go to the hospital." he said.
"No, I'm ok, it's ok, I don't need to go," said Timo.
Hearing this, I thought maybe he's fine, since he said he doesn't want to go to the hospital. I don't know what I thought of a cop talking in the background. I typically try not to worry about something I don't know is worth worrying about. I thought, "Oh well, I'll just go get him and we can sort it out there." I got up from bed and looked quickly for something to throw on and I grabbed a purple skirt that I never wear in public and quickly shimmied into it. ("It's dark, you're just picking up your kid who needs a ride," I told myself). Note to self: never leave the house in a random purple skirt when you don't know what lies ahead.
As I opened the door to leave, Sam got up and said, "I'll come with you." I shrugged and said, "Sure, we can chat on the way."
At this point I was not worrying...much. I had a niggling fear that something could be wrong. But I was also very tired and had been looking forward to going to bed. Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to enter into.
I'll continue this in the next post.
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