pitterpat

I don’t mention our first born son, Jimmy, very often, yet I should. Especially today, September 16th, as he would have been 36 years old. Hard to believe that one isn’t it? Jimmy was born mentally retarded, a genetic disposition I wouldn’t find out until years later that was on my side of the family. (Thank you Beth) My pregnancy was uneventful and the labor swift for a first child. Turns out I would be able to deliver quick with all my kids. It wasn’t until Jimmy was about 3 months old and during a well baby check up visit that it was noticed he might be behind in his development. We were referred to UCLA where he would be further evaluated. That whole time seems so very long ago. Even though I outwardly feel fine about living through his whole life experience, inside I turn to a place of great sadness.

UCLA is a big campus and we visited it a lot, for his diagnosis, and for his physical therapy. I knew in my heart all along that the therapy was to appease others, for Jimmy would stay the same no matter what we agreed or felt we had to agree to do in hopes of helping him develop further than his approximate 5-6 months physical age. That in itself made and still makes me sad.

At the age of 2 Jerry and I decided to put him in a home, South Bay, for special needs children. It was a small home and I was able to visit often, even helping out with more physical therapy for him. I met wonderful people along the way and came to realize that in some ways my young son was helping me grow up and learn through these life experiences some good can come. As years passed his health declined, and he would often get sick, a common occurence in a nursing home. Close to the end I talked to the nursing home doctor and we decided on instituting a DNR (do not resuscitate) for him.

Jimmy was almost 8 when he passed away from pneumonia. Such a young guy. Finally now he would be at peace. Jerry and I had him cremated and enlisting the services of a sea burial took him out at Kings Harbor in Redondo Beach. It had been raining the day before yet the sun chose to shine that morning and all throughout our ride out. It was very strange for me personally to see the box and then ashes as we spread them 3 miles out at sea and know this was all that physically remained of our son. His ashes, like sea shells fell on the moving water. Goodbye my son. I’ll always love you.