Over the past two weeks people have told me how strong I am;
have compared me to other strong women; and asked me how I can be so
strong. I don’t know. I don’t think mothers know the capacity of
their strength until they are faced with the unthinkable.
When I received that 3:48 am phone call that Ryan was
extremely critical and that I must get to LA, I went on autopilot. I’m a task oriented person and I began a
mental checklist of what I needed to do.
I couldn’t get a morning flight because we live so far from any airport
– I couldn’t physically drive to any of the airports in a 150 mile radius in
time to make the earlier flights. My
hands shook, I sweated and my mind raced as I checked Orbitz, Priceline, Travelocity…all
the websites to find a flight. The only
one I could make was from Springfield to Chicago and then to LA –
hours of wasted time. The trip to LA is still somewhat blurry but yet somewhat vivid.
There was an elderly lady in the Springfield
airport who hugged me tightly and held my hand until we had to board our flight
to Chicago. Chicago
was a blur – I got news that no mother ever wants to hear as I sat in the gate
area. I kept thinking that maybe they
were wrong. I would get there and Ryan
would be sitting up in bed laughing. Our
minds trick us that way to handle the pain.
On the plane to LA I was seated next to a beautiful young woman that
told me she was an OBGyn. She talked me
through the 5 hour flight.
When I arrived in LA Wayne was in the pickup zone to get me
and what would normally have been a short drive was a nightmare. It was 6pm on a Friday night in LA – rush
hour traffic – everyone wanting to get the freeway. I barely remember going from the entrance of
the hospital to Ryan’s room and then I had to face what no mother ever wants
to. I had to say stop the life saving
efforts – there was no hope. I can’t
write about the next part. It’s too
private and personal. But just know as a
mother at a time like this, we don’t see in real time, we see what is in the
depths of our mind and through our love for our children. I felt weak – ice water in my veins and my
mouth tasted like metal. I know from my
medical and science background that it was caused my neurons firing too fast –
it is shock.
Oh yes, I wanted to lie down and just lose control but then
Misty arrived and I realized that I needed to be strong for her. Even though I had just suffered an
unthinkable loss, I am still her mom too.
Then began all the paperwork, red tape, whatever you want to
call it - people in my face, papers to be signed. Ryan’s apartment and personal effects had to
be taken care of. Then you remember that
you bought a one way ticket – flights back home to be arranged. You have no time to lose control. It was four days later before Misty and I
found ourselves alone in her home in Texas
before it hit us full in the face.
I’m past the lying on the bed, sobbing, crying gallons of
tears. Now the tears quietly stream down
my face when I am home or in my car. My
heart hurts and I don’t sleep much. They
tell me that it will get better but you almost don’t want to get better because
you’re afraid that means you don’t care enough.
Four of my sisters-in-law have lost children and they tell me that isn’t
true, but the fear is still there.
Through this, I have seen the good in people. The outpouring of love and kindness has been
amazing. We have received gifts of food,
money, flowers... There are a few things
that have touched me deeply. My cousin’s
90 year old mom cooked an entire southern meal for the day of the funeral. Ryan
would have loved it. One of my friends
sent me a card with money but she also put a book of stamps in with the
card. She knew I wouldn’t feel like
going to the post office to get stamps for thank you cards. One of my friends brought me her laptop to
use because mine is fried – she even brought me her wifi box. My cousin who quietly went to the cemetery
and cleaned it up without expecting any kind of recognition. Another cousin who made sure the dirt
road to the cemetery was graded and
chatted. The amount of money that has
been raised has been unbelievable – people that I don’t know have given so
much. Ryan had a lot of friends and I
didn’t realize how many that Misty and I have too.
I can never repay my cousin, Wayne.
I called him at 4 am and told him to get to the hospital. I had to give
permission for him to be the family member in charge at the hospital. It was a horrible position for him to be put
in. He held me up at the worst moment of
my life, helped me with all the paperwork, packing, flight arrangements, and
other things that had to be done. He is
the one who made the call to Burns Funeral Home to see how to begin the long
process of getting Ryan back home. I
need to clarify something here too. I just
thought all my friends from back home knew how Wayne and I are related but in
recent days, I have found out that they don’t.
Wayne and I share a common set of great-grandparents. His maternal grandmother and my paternal
grandfather were brother and sister. And
as we say in the Ozarks, “we grew up just down the road apiece” from each
other.
I am not going to
sugar coat everything though. There have
been things that have hurt me as well.
People that I thought were my friends that haven’t offered any type of
condolence. People that I see daily turn
their head or hurry into another room so that they don’t have to meet my
eye. People who, again as we say in the
Ozarks, “live right in my front door” have yet to acknowledge my loss. Is it so hard to say simply “I’m so sorry”
or put a card in my mailbox? I don’t
know their reasons but I pray that they never feel a loss this great and need
the comfort of others.
I wanted to bring Ryan “home,” which for me is out on the
Ott Family Farm. There are now 6
generations of Otts in our family cemetery.
It’s a beautiful place and the view from the top of that hill is
breathtaking. He rests behind my Dad and
next to my Aunt Opal. She babysat Ryan
from age 6 weeks until he was old enough to stay by himself before and after
school. Ryan called her Granny Opal and
they loved each other very much. It’s a
place where it feels peaceful and the wind gently blows there no matter what
time of year. I may not have pleased
everyone with my choices but I did what my Mom instincts told me to do.
I love you Ryan – a bushel and a peck and a hug around the
neck. Your memory lives on in your
music, your artwork, photography and theatre work. I will be setting up a scholarship fund for a
graduating senior from Flippin
High School who plans to
major in the visual or performing arts. Ryan
loved the arts so much and I think he would be happy for me to help a deserving
student pursue their dreams.
