Its March 1st, 2016. A seemingly normal day with an average amount of sadness overcoming me. I sat in my level two anatomy class patiently waiting to be dismissed so that I could immediately call my mom to check on Cooper. 99% of the time I was calling to check if he was alive, but I never said that, I asked how he was, what his pain level was like, and a bunch of other medical nonsense I pretended to understand. Mid-lecture I feel a rush of emotions coming over me, I begin to cry and am asked to leave the class.
I was standing at the front entrance of Nevada State College waiting for my phone to buzz that Cooper was okay, but it was taking longer than normal. I stood there totally stunned at where my life was in that moment, I stood completely hysterical. Before I knew it a car had pulled over and a woman was running to my side, she hugged me and said, “I have no idea what you’re going through or are about to go through, but just know that moments pass.”
She got in her car and pulled away.
Seconds later the phone rang, it was my parents telling me everything was fine I needed to go back to class, I needed to stop worrying. But everything wasn’t fine and that is the biggest lie I’ve ever been told. I know my parents were trying to protect my sisters and I, but nothing had ever been “fine”.
Cooper was having serious complications from an infection he got due to a weak immune system that would ultimately take his life, without being eligible for a clinical trial. This clinical trial was Cooper’s, and our, last hope. One last shot at him staying alive.
A month later he was dead.
In the last month of Coopers life I learned that I was being told the lie that everything would be fine.
I realized that Coopers infections were always worse that I was led on to believe.
I realized that my parents knew a lot more than what they led us to believe.
They gave me hope, they told me everything was going to be fine.
When ultimately, it was never going to be fine.
If Cooper had lived, he was just beginning a battle he would have faced the rest of his life.
If Cooper died, well, he was dead.
NEITHER option panned out to “Everything is going to be fine”.
But thats the thing about hope, as human beings we want to give hope no matter the circumstances. That’s what my parents wanted to do for my sisters and I, they wanted to create hope instead of crushing our hearts with the truth.
I’m not sure if the truth would of been any better than feeding us the lie that everything was going to be okay, and I’m not here to share the parents perspective, only the siblings.
As an adult, them telling me that “everything was going to be fine” has allowed me to become stronger. I now know that everything is NOT going to be fine a majority of the time, not that I’m trying to prepare myself for the worst, but I am being hyperaware that sometimes reality does suck.
March 1st is significant because it starts the ending scene.
The last act of the show.
The whole shabang that was Coopers life.
As part of my grieving process, I know that the past 2 years he’s been gone, I have re-lived every moment that March has to offer. I’ve slowly sat in moments that were exceptionally beautiful and moments that I wished would have never ended. I’ve replayed March 2016 for the past 2 years and this year will be no different.
I will take in every grieving moment that my mind wanders too.
I will embrace the ending scene, but this time I will quietly remind myself that everything is not going to be fine.
After-all, difficult times can define us, diminish us, or develop us.