Every year, Connie and I put up two Christmas trees, one for family and one for Jonathan.
I have two sons, Brandon and Jonathan.
Brandon is in his early 30s. Jonathan would have been in his early 30s too, just three years behind Brandon. They couldn’t be much more different. Brandon is sometimes crass and obtuse, although he has become more tender over the years.
Jonathan was always sensitive and tenderhearted. Jonathan was born with a hole in his heart. It was small, but it was there, nonetheless. His pediatric cardiologist monitored him very closely. Jonathan hated the constant X-rays. But he was a baby, so naturally they scared him. I was the one who tried to hold him still as the machine hummed, sputtered and moved over his tiny body.
I would talk to him every time before the X-ray machine would start. I would try in my best fatherly way I could to reassure him I was right here, he didn’t have to be afraid. He would calm down a little, but he was still scared. He would cry. So I would cry. But gently stroking his little leg seemed to help us both a little.
My first wife and I were on our way to take on the senior pastorate of a church in rural New Mexico. The church was on a hilly dirt road and it was winter. I was driving the moving truck and focusing on driving up the hill when I heard a scream.
“Something’s wrong with Jonathan. He’s not breathing.”
I ran back to the car and picked him up in my arms. As I sat in the back seat with Jonathan in my arms trying to do what I could to get him to breathe again, we raced to the hospital. I ran into the hospital. The wonderfully caring hospital staff immediately took Jonathan and rushed him into a room.
Approximately 10 minutes later, the doctor came out with the EKG strip to show us they had tried, but they couldn’t get his little heart going. In my fear and anger, I remember telling the doctor, “I don’t want to see that.”
He apologized and asked if we wanted to see Jonathan. Of course we did. As we walked back to the room where he was laying, I told the doctor I didn’t mean to be rude. He stopped, turned and looked at me with caring eyes. He then put his hand on my shoulder and said, “it's OK, no need to apologize.”
As we walked into the room, a nurse was there with Jonathan. She was stroking his leg just as I had when he was afraid of the X-rays. We had been crying a lot by that time, but seeing her stroking his leg just as I had done, I started sobbing and shaking.
I barely made it to the chair beside the bed. The nurse turned and said, “I will leave you alone if you would like.” I shook my head in agreement, still not able to speak. I stood there for what seemed like the longest time, but in reality, it had only been a few minutes. I looked at my little Jonathan, so much alive just a few hours earlier, and now he was gone.
I reached out and stroked his little leg, just as I had when he was afraid. Somehow, I knew it calmed his spirit. It calmed me, I know. Just for a few moments we were back together in the X-ray room, and everything was OK. We found out later my sweet little Jonathan died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
His heart was healed. No hole could be found. He died on Dec. 28.
Some couples make it through the death of their child. Some don’t. I didn’t. Then I met Connie. I have never looked back. I call her “Angel” because to me, that’s what she is.
There is a lot more to Jonathan’s story, but as I write about my Jonathan, I asked myself, why do I want to share his story? It’s every parent’s worst fear, to lose a child.
As parents, we tell ourselves, “I would never make it through the death of my child,” but somehow, we do.
But I wanted to share because, partly, I need to, and partly, because the only good in tragedy is in helping others through their tragedy. I want every parent who has lost a child to know, you too will make it through.
You are not alone.
Your beautiful child will always be a part of your family. I still miss him all the time. I know I always will. I still wonder what his life may have been like. Would he have loved history like his dad? Who would he have married? What would my grandchildren be like?
Jonathan’s Christmas tree goes up early so Connie and I can enjoy it. His favorite toy, a little yellow ducky, always sits under his tree. Every year at Christmas, as we look at his tree, Connie and I hold hands and say a prayer. I always end the prayer with, “I love you son, and I always will.”
I still feel him. I still remember how it felt to touch his leg. I still believe he hears me when I tell him, “I love you son.”
•••
Richard Stride is the current CEO of Cascade Community Healthcare. He can be reached at drstride@icloud.com.
