Cam and a Conversation

Cam's RASKAL (Random Acts of Service, Kindness, and Leadership) award

His window drawing with messages from Mia and MK

His self-made schedule

Friends

One night Cam started asking me details about Elle's death. He had seen some pictures that day of someone in a hospital.

He said, "I don't want to feel any pain when I die. Do people sometimes die like that? without pain?"

"Yes."

And then, "Did Elle feel pain in the hospital?"

"They gave her medicine, so she didn't feel any pain." 

He wasn't finished, "Did she see it?" 

I knew he meant the car. I sat down. Cam was sitting on the counter with his feet on a stool just a couple feet away from my chair at the kitchen table. I wanted to be honest.

"I think so. When she woke up in the hospital, we asked her if she knew what had happened. Her eyes got wide, and she nodded yes. I wanted her to know that Dad and I knew what happened, so I said, 'You got run over by a car,' and she widened her eyes again and nodded."

I told him how she had lifted her arms to be held, but the doctor said we needed to put her back to sleep so she wouldn't begin to feel the pain. 

I thought to myself again how unprepared I was for those few moments I had to talk to Elle. I couldn't think of what to say, and I thought I'd have a lot of time with her after things settled down. 

I reassured myself as much as Cam, "I didn't know we wouldn't get to talk to her again, and the main thing was we wanted to make sure she would not be in pain, so we let the doctor put her right back to sleep."

He thought for a little while and then said, "I would be scared in the hospital."

"Hmmm. Well, when Elle woke up, she knew me and Dad were right there, and she saw Grandma and everyone around her bed. I told her everyone was there to help her, so she probably wasn't too scared." 

And then I told him something I've hoped, "And, sometimes when people are dying, they visit heaven. Especially in the helicopter, the paramedics said Elle died, so she might have gone to heaven even then. Heavenly Father might have said, 'Go back and say good-bye to your family for now.' Can you imagine what she could have told us?!... but she had a tube down her throat."

He asked, "Did she try to talk?"

"Yes. She was moving her lips but couldn't make any sound."

He wanted to know, "Did she have any expression when she tried to talk?" [he said expression—that boy]

"Mmm, not really, but I could tell in her eyes that she wasn't afraid or in pain."

He seemed satisfied.

He got off the counter and walked over by the kitchen desk, playing with something in his hands. I sat quietly... waiting to see if he had moved on. He looked down at his hands.

"When I was carrying Elle's casket, I didn't know I wouldn't see her again."

I was struck by his words, and I was struck by his ability to articulate his grief. We were both crying now.

I tried to talk through my tears, "You were only 6 years old. It's hard for 6-year-olds to understand that. It was hard even for me to understand that."

He continued, "But when I was 8 and now I'm 9, I'm noticing that she's not ... you know."

Yes, I know. 
But I've told myself something about that, too. "That she's not coming back in this life?" I wiped my eyes, "It sure is a long time for us, but pretty short for her! Time is very different in heaven. But, ya, for us it will be a long wait."

Then he said, "If I die when I'm 12, it won't be too long."

"Don't die when you're 12." (!!!)

Then he hugged me. 

And I cried some more.

I said, "I'm glad we can talk about Elle like this."

"Ya."