It Was One Year Ago Today

Thus I cannot resist presenting one more post in memory of my wonderful son, John Darin Stith.  (His father’s name was ‘John’; my father’s name was ‘John’.   We each had grandfathers named ‘John’.  So our son was given that family first name.  But as his father and I agreed, we would call him ‘Darin’. ) 

We said good-bye to Darin on September 19, 2011.  It was a glorious farewell service for the son, brother, husband, father, uncle, friend, boss, co-worker and neighbor who lived life to the fullest, while challenging a lifetime of the ravages of Sickle Cell Disease.  He died on September 14, 2011.

In 1961, when Darin was born, I seriously thought my son might become the first Black President of the United States of America.  Then at 8 months old he was diagnosed with Sickle Cell Disease.  Learning about this debilitating chronic disease, I was forced to realize becoming President of the USA just might be out of Darin's reach. Little did any of us know, however, the first Black President of the USA, Barack Obama, had been born four months earlier, in Hawaii.

As a youngster my Darin enjoyed elementary school and playing with neighborhood friends in Richmond Heights, Missouri.  He participated in team play - bowling,  basketball and baseball and was a Cub Scout, very active.  I was the Den Mother so I’m thinking we inspired each other.  I’ll always remember the colorful circus those little boys helped plan and pull together for a Saturday morning Scouting event in our back yard.  It was a fun time.

My loving marriage to his father fell apart and I struggled with heartache.  Early one morning, when I thought my two children were still asleep, Darin found me solemnly staring out the living room window.   “What’s wrong, mom?” he asked, all at once there beside me.  I said to the little boy (inappropriately, I know), “No one loves me.”  Never to be forgotten, that child of mine said, “God loves you.”

At his sixth grade graduation he was the sole recipient of the “Good Citizenship Medal”.   It was an award from the National Society Daughters of the American Revolution presented to outstanding boys and girls with these qualifications.

Honor: honesty – high principles, trustworthiness, loyalty, truthfulness, punctuality, moral strength and stability, cleanliness in mind and body.

Service: cooperation, meritorious behavior bringing honor to school or community, kindliness, unselfishness, true Americanism – individual responsibility to Home, to Country, to God.

Courage: mental and physical, determination to overcome obstacles.

Leadership: personality – originality – ability to lead and hold others – good sportsmanship – responsibility.

Patriotism: fundamental Americanism.

 

This photo opportunity came as we were supporting an activity of his sister, Farah, at the time a Vice-President with the American Heart Association.  Darin insisted he wanted a picture of me and him with New York City’s former Mayor David Dinkins, Farah’s prized guest speaker for the evening.  I guess we were proud of each other. 

John Darin Stith has been my subject in three previous blog posts.  January 30th - ". . .against all odds . . . Sickle Cell Disease";  June 25th - "Darin (1961-2011)" and September 14th - "Darin Left Us a Year Ago".

If you ever find a way to help find a cure for Sickle Cell Disease, please be a part of the effort.

DARIN LEFT US A YEAR AGO

He lay there, peaceful, at rest; deep inside myself, I wailed.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011 at 3:20 pm, my son John Darin Stith died.  That was a year ago today.  At 5:10 pm I got the call from “Kath”, his nurse.  In fact, when she said who she was I said, “Oh yes, I met you yesterday evening in his room”.  She acknowledged then went on to say “Patricia asked me to call you. There was a situation during surgery and Darin passed.”

By the time those last two words dulled my soul, I was in the kitchen leaning against the tall white counter chair.  Seconds before when I lifted the phone from its’ docking station, it had not escaped my notice a Hackensack Hospital number was displayed.  Still, I calmly walked over to the counter, unafraid since his fistula implant surgery had been scheduled for ten that morning.  Now, seven hours later, certainly all danger time was long gone. So, hearing the words, unprepared for the devastating information, I was momentarily shocked speechless.  No matter, Kath kept talking, telling me whom to ask for when I got over to the hospital and came to their main floor lobby reception desk. 

“Oh no”, the words spilled from my mouth, firm and precise, quickly followed with,  “I won’ t be coming anywhere”.   

My senses had returned sufficiently to inform me I was in no condition to go beyond the sanctuary of my home.  Darin was gone. He was okay now. There was not a thing I could do for him. Me?  I was not okay.   My arms and legs wanted to wobble around just standing still in my kitchen.   My soul wanted to cry out; I wanted to keep away the requisite confusion his passing would bring.  .  .  . hide from it as long as I could.  But I couldn’t.   His sister had to be told.  (And, later I did go to the hospital, driven by a friend who stayed with me all evening.)

Visiting with Darin the prior evening, my son was emotionally and mentally healthy.  As far as I knew, he was optimistically rational about his physical condition even though we all knew he was not healthy physically.  Visiting with him that evening we discussed the operation planned for the next morning.  He initiated the topic. “Why the operation now?”, he asked me almost emotionless,  reclining against the pillows in his bed.  I sat in the comfortable chair to the right of his bedside feeling uncertain to have the question to deal with. I didn’t want to hear doubt from him or from me. My answer, “Well you know doctors say that fistula implant is critical for future procedures.  Your heart is not getting any stronger.  It's the time to do it while you are as strong as you are, before you go home." 

His loving heart was not strong enough.

We rallied, family, friends, church family, neighbors, community, co-workers, acquaintances from everywhere over a lifetime.  We said good-bye to my Darin.

Now, one year later, I'm continuing to say goodbye, miss you, love you.  I move forward, keeping in mind that part of my relationship with my son throughout his forty-nine plus years that gave me love, confidence and strength so many times in so many ways.  

I'm also remembering how faithfully he would strive to overcome any relatively short -term or longer siege of disabling health - crisis initiated - caused by Sickle Cell Disease.  His goal was always to move along to return to his office; to live productive, fun days as best he could with his little family, wife and two daughters (and dog).  Cardio-Renal Syndrome was the diagnosis of his final major physical challenge - the by product of organ deteriorating Sickle Cell Disease.  

Last summer, in June, he told me about the diagnosis as if he was first learning of it. He was very upbeat, sounded relieved to have a name for this combination of problems for which a balance of successful medical protocols had great  difficulty handling.  I researched the condition.   Considering what I learned and considering he passed just three months later, I'm thinking he actually knew the serious challenge of Cardio-Renal Syndrome several months before he shared the information with me.   He shielded me.  Today I realize he made a good decision in that regard.

I do thank God for my son, for having him in my heart to love today and forever.  

My constant prayer and plea is that a cure be found for Sickle Cell Disease.  If you can help that happen, please do.

  

Anticipating Disappointment

Donna Brazile is speaking in my neighborhood today at 12:30 pm.  I so want to be in the audience.

There is an admission price;  $10 for members of the sponsoring group, the County Section of the National Council of Jewish Women and $20 for those not members, such as me.  What a reasonable price for such a notable woman!  

Ms. Brazile, among other things is a CNN Political Strategist; and among other things was the campaign manager for former Vice-President Al Gore’s presidential campaign.  She was just recently seen all over TV weighing in on the political conventions.  She is a brilliant and beautiful black woman. 

I’m a prolific newspaper reader but didn’t see notice of this event until the September 6^th issue of a community paper received on that date.  “For more information call the NCJW…office  at xxx-xxx-xxxx. “  My daughter called immediately, left a message ordering two tickets and sent an email, requesting the same.  Several days later a response to both was received.  “Pay at the door.”   In answer to my question I learned the venue holds 200 people.  I’m thinking, that’s not enough seating for a personality like Donna Brazile.  Surely it will be sold out before I get there. 

Complicating matters for me, there was a prior 11 am appointment on my calendar  I couldn't miss.  Still I made it to the venue, secured a difficult to find parking space and was inside at the ticket table by 12:20.  It wasn’t sold out! ! !   Yet readers, by the time Ms. Brazile took the microphone every seat in the lovely auditorium was taken and I had a good one.  Outstanding!

When I started writing this my objective was to ‘cry foul’ for the absurdity of no advance sale of tickets or reservations held for someone of Donna Brazile's caliber.  But I was wrong.  The organization knew what it was doing; knew their market place.  I don’t believe anyone was turned away.  It was a gracious, informative time.  

If I had looked forward to the event in exciting anticipation, what a wonderful week I would have had.  Instead, I groused and complained over the late notification of a special opportunity I surely could not be a part of.  Oh woe was me.  But I was wrong.  My lesson, keep moving toward doing what you want to do, don't give up.  But most importantly, I think I must work on that popular mantra of several years ago, i.e., “Don’t Worry.  Be Happy”. 

RNC or DNC - Who Gets the Best ROI?

The Conventions are Over!  For sure, I do not know how much money the Republicans or the Democrats spent to bring their Conventions to the nation.  However, I’m thinking the DNC got the best Return on Investment.

What’s my rationale?  It’s simply that “facts” were heavily embedded in the message of the DNC’s presenters.  

In my opinion, both RNC and DNC effectively appealed to our emotions but the DNC shared more hard facts.  

I believe what my father taught me.  It‘s important that critical decisions be based on fact, not feelings.   Before taking a possibly life-altering step, step-back; consider the facts of the matter, minus the emotion driven component. (Most of you know about my father’s parental wisdom from reading the book I wrote, Black Star Girl.)  Intelligent people think before acting. 

The undecided voter, listening/viewing the DNC Convention received the depth of information smart folk look for to make a decision.  Such was scarce coming out of the RNC Convention last week.   I’m thinking the undecided among us are smart and that will make a difference favoring the DNC.

I know – my conclusion is premature.  We won’t know who had the best Return on Investment until Election Day results are in.

By the way, tell me, how much money was spent? If you see a report on the total dollars spent by each, the Republicans and the Democrats, please direct me to it. I’ll surely analyze those spreadsheets, the facts, in these economically challenging times.

And, I want everyone to VOTE!  -  regardless of candidate of choice. 

If you haven’t registered, consider registering online.  Find how to do so by typing into the ‘search’ box of your Internet page “ how to register to vote online” and click Search.