Before you click “read more”, I just want to warn you that this is one of the more honest, vulnerable, and real posts I think I’ve ever written for this here blog. I hope you’ll relate to it in some way, anyways…
You know, I always feel like regrets are for people who don’t mean it. Regrets are for people who don’t take the time to intentionally, meaningfully, and legitimately mean what they do, say, or share. At least, that’s my opinion. That’s why I don’t have a lot of regrets.
Another person that I know who always told me he had few regrets in life was Craig. I found out this past weekend that Craig passed away. He was just two years younger than I am. News of his death hit me pretty hard. It was late at night, it was unexpected, and…man, was it unexpected. I guess death never is, but…especially with someone who wasn’t sick…I had no idea this would happen.
The most obvious thing that Craig and I had in common, what we bonded over the first time we met, other than both being raised in Fredericksburg, was a disability. Craig often used a wheelchair to get around. Even more than me, though, it seemed he used his muscles to get around. Man, I will always remember that about him – he was RIPPED. That kid had biceps like no other. I’m still jealous.
His funeral was today and more than anything I wanted to attend. I wasn’t scheduled to be in the office, and so I could have – and in retrospect I feel I should have – made that trip down to Fredericksburg. But I didn’t. I didn’t completely feel as if it was my place to go. And funerals are always hard in that way – whether or not I feel my attendance is appropriate. I never feel like I’m making the right decision. I don’t not go because it’ll be too sad – it’s not about me. I always think of wanting to show love and support to that family. But will I be one of those people who shows love and support AFTER the funeral too? Or will it be just like every death – a moment where everyone remembers how great of a person Craig was on that one day, but then his mother and his family are left to grieve, seemingly indefinitely…alone?
I know…way more dark than I usually post on here. But I’ve always said, I use HESONWHEELS not only as a vehicle to spread service and caring but also as a personal diary that I can look back on in years and say, “wow. That’s where I was. That’s what I was doing.
And on this Tuesday afternoon in April, that’s what I’m feeling. I’m feeling inadequate for not having told Craig how impressive of a person he was to me. Sure we bonded, and spent a ton of time together, and I do feel as if we truly connected – us sharing the stories of the first time we remembered meeting each other, hanging out his neighbors house together until 1:30 in the morning…those were all great memories. But I never sat down and told Craig, while he was here on this Earth, how much I legitimately admire him.
I’m feeling disrespectful for having not attended his funeral. I have great memories of Craig but I still felt (inadequate) like it wasn’t necessarily my place to attend and share.
More than anything, I’m not feeling that whole “life is short” cliche. I already know that and practice the antithesis of that. But, more than anything, I’m feeling like there’s even more reason to remind yourself: to never let your disability get in the way of you living your life. Yes, you.
Reading this, you may find it ironic, but I think everyone has a disability. It doesn’t have to manifest itself physically – it may do so emotionally, mentally, something else that is holding you back that you can’t beat. It may affect the way you interact with others, you may be the only one that knows it – but nonetheless, it affects you. And for Craig to have a disability where you have NO diagnosis, limited motor control, and limited ability to verbally and physically communicate as effectively as you’d like – and to STILL be able to kick life’s ass anyways – that’s something I will always admire.
I don’t have a lot of regrets, but I think this may be one.
Rest in peace, my friend. This one’s for you Craig.
Craig had diagnoses….Craig had many glorified diagnoses. However, no two doctors could ever agree on the diagnoses OR how to treat. The last diagnosis we received was on 1 April 2015; migralepsy. Puzzled? The other list of diagnoses were also fun to explain. No doctor could ever agree to cerebral palsy. However, not one single doctor would grant us our son’s livelihood past the age of 21, so every day we had after his 21st birthday was sweet icing on the cake of life.
His list of labels:
1. Asthma
2. Ataxia Telangiectasia
3. Dysarthria
4. Dystonia
5. Epilepsy (tonic/clonic, partial-complex, focal, AND migralepsy)
6. Movement disorder (of unknown etiology)
7. Strokes
It would have been nice to have seen you there at Craig’s funeral. You had a right to be there just like everyone else. In fact, we would have welcomed you with open arms because Craig did talk quite fondly of you. He was excited to finally meet someone in a wheelchair like him who knew how to party like he wanted to, who was strong-willed and determined like himself.
It would have been nice to see those who praise themselves for being his best buds on Facebook come over to our house to prove their ‘best friend” relationship when Craig was alive. It would have at least helped Craig feel the love when he was alive since he had no clue all of these people “loved” him so much. Looking at his Facebook page this past week, I swear it looks like all of the state of Virginia loved my baby but shouldn’t the evidence have been a swinging door at our house? I could name three people who came over to the house when Craig was alive because they just wanted to hang with him whether he was having a seizure or not.
Sure, Craig’s headaches and seizures were coming on a daily basis these past four months….and they were quite debilitating. True, he wasn’t supposed to make it this far in life, but he did. Craig’s headaches are gone now. Craig’s seizures are gone now. Craig is finally 6’2″ and can stand as straight as can be. Craig can walk. Craig is free from pain. That is a blissful thought to me, his mom….I have seen him struggle since the first day he was born. The only peace I can find tonight is that he is finally free, praise God, he is finally free. But I am stuck here without my baby….and that is the hardest thing I will ever experience! Be a friend in real life, not just on social media.
Rebecca,
This comment is almost 1 year old and I am so very sorry that it has taken me as long to respond. Frankly and honestly, I had no idea this comment even existed. I recently made a post where folks decided to use the comment feature, and it prompted me to “approve” them – I didn’t know that was possible. Regardless, I’m happy to have seen your comment. All in all, Craig never shared his diagnoses with me. It’s something I never asked about, and something that he never brought up and in situations like that I believe the onus is on that individual. So I apologize for sharing that piece of misinformation, as I was unaware.
While I agree that it would have been nice to be Craig’s funeral, I truly believe that funerals are for the living. And the process of death is not for the living – it is to focus on the memory of the dead, in your own way. It’s kind of like how I feel about church – while I consider myself to be a a person that believes in religion, I do not believe you have to be in a particular space or place to practice religion. Same with death. I do not feel like you have to be in a certain space or place to mourn or to pay your respects. So it was my personal decision to not attend.
I don’t believe in proving friendships. Craig and I were not overtly close, and I didn’t intend to convey that in my blog post. Craig and I didn’t text often but we did hang out often – whenever I would come over to Nicole’s house and he was there or he would come over after I arrived. I always spent time with Craig becuase I liked him as a person – I didn’t have to prove any status to anyone. Just becuase someone appreciates someone and calls them a friend doesn’t mean they always are or need to be present. Some of the best friendships I have are with folks that I haven’t seen in years and are states away. That’s just my two cents.
I’m proud to say that I knew Craig and that I appreciated his spirit and that he know that. Social media or not, Craig knows that. And that is peace enough for me. Thanks for writing.