On September 4, 2015, my second cousin, Kaiden, was born in Ohio. It was a day of celebration, and I was able to enjoy this time with my family from Idaho through the magic of the internet. I was able to see images of Kaiden meeting his Aunts, Uncle, cousins, grand parents, great-grand parents, etc, on Facebook. To be fair, I've never been particularly close to Megan, my cousin and Kaiden's mother, due to her immediate family's lack of proximity to my immediate family. That's only been exacerbated by my relatively recent move to the west coast. However, through Facebook and other internet means I've been attempting to establish more of a family dynamic that I was unable to achieve as a child.
On September 6, 2015, on my drive home from Idaho to sunny Southern California, I received a phone call from my father that Kaiden had suffered a heart failure due to a condition that he was born with, and that he was no longer with us. This colored not only the remainder of my evening, but the next few days as I attempted to come to grips with something so horrifying. Kaiden was just born; I hadn't even had the chance to meet him yet. All I knew of him were photos I had seen on Facebook where he and his family had looked so happy. I didn't know how to process this "loss," as I can hardly consider it a loss. I mean, frankly, I never knew him, so how could I "lose" something I never really had?
On September 8, 2015, I was informed that there would be services held for Kaiden in Ohio three days hence in the event that I wanted to send condolences in the form of a card of flowers. I agonized over what to do. I spent the evening looking up etiquette for this kind of situation (as it so happens, there's a lot of different suggestions on the internet), but nothing seemed to fit how I was feeling. I had spoken to my wife about sending a basket of flowers, but something about that just seemed...removed. I don't know how to describe it. After a little bit of maneuvering, I was able to find a flight to Pennsylvania for the 10th that would return on the 13th, and I decided that was my best course of action.
On September 9, 2015, I purchased my plane ticket, hastily packed my bag, and prepared to leave early the next day.
Early in the day on September 10, 2015, I left the house for the airport. I had an arduous day attempting to fly back to Pennsylvania due to some weather, but I finally arrived at 3:30 am on the morning of September 11, the day of the funeral. I spent the day with my sister and my niece, then met the rest of my family at a dinner held by Megan's church prior to the viewing. It was nice catching up with everyone, even given the circumstances.
The circumstances, though, were substantial. Megan was at the dinner, and I couldn't so much as say, "I'm sorry for your loss." Does anyone else think that just sounds hackneyed and disingenuous? What can I honestly say in this situation? I cannot imagine the kind of pain that Megan is dealing with. I cannot begin to describe what kind of emotions she must be dealing with. Hell, I can't even fully describe my own emotions right now.
Following the dinner we drove as a family to the funeral home, where I found they had prepared an open casket. I can say, with all honesty, that nothing made me quite so angry as that casket and what it contained. To begin, I didn't even know they made caskets so small. It honestly looked like a piece of luggage with metal sides. I couldn't stop looking at it and comparing its size to that of my own carry-on suitcase that I had taken on the plane with me. Worse, though, was that the casket was open, and Kaiden was displayed...poorly. I don't know anything about embalming, and preparing a two day old infant for a funeral ceremony is something I can hardly fathom, but I can tell you that whomever prepared Kaiden did not do very well. His skin was cracking and dry. There appeared to be a white powder flaking off his face in various places. All in all, my second cousin who had lived for only two days looked like nothing more than a baby doll that had been left in the sun, being buried in a carry-on bag.
I swallowed my absolute anger and disgust at this sight and attempted to give my condolences once again to Megan. I failed again and was only able to offer a hug. Frankly, I'm writing this a week and a half later and I still don't know what to say to Megan.
As the service began, the reverend seemed mostly at a loss for what to say. I couldn't believe just how trite must of what he said sounded, and yet I've had few other emotion experiences quite as strong as that. By the end I couldn't contain myself; I was weeping openly and had to excuse myself from the building to try and get control.
On September 12, 2015, Kaiden was buried, exactly 8 days after he had been born. The small burial service held that morning was only for family. I felt that I was intruding. I had nothing new to say to Megan, so I offered her one more hug. The service was mostly a repeat of the previous evening, only made more awkward because of the fact that we were in a cemetery situated beside a fire station that was quite active on that particular morning. Once the service was complete, all of us who felt that we were intruding left to allow Megan and Josh a chance to say their good byes. This was mostly my immediate family, as well as my Uncle Rick and his sons, since the rest of the people there were Megan, her immediate family, as well as Josh (the father), and his immediate family.
We went to retrieve the tree that we had all agreed was a good gesture in this situation. There was a long email chain in which roughly 8-10 of us argued over protocol in cases like this one, which no one could really agree on. Eventually, though, someone forced an executive decision, and we purchased a tree. The rest of us agreed that would be OK, so as Kaiden was being buried, we were loading an Eastern Red Maple sapling into the back of my Uncle Rick's SUV.
The tree turned out to be perfect. For many reasons, it really seemed to bring us closer to Megan and her family. Her father is incredibly outdoorsy, so the idea of planting and caring for a sapling appealed to him. Her younger brother looked up how big it was supposed to get and looked forward to seeing it grow to full size in 21 years, which he calculated. We all bonded over a story of a tree that was planted when my Aunt Shawna was born, which still stands at the farm her and her brothers and sister grew up on. What made it perfect, though, was that when we gave the tree to Megan, I saw her smile for the first time all weekend. It wasn't a big smile, but it was enough to really break through and show us all that, someday, she would be able to get through this pain.
I needed to write this because, as I mentioned, I still don't know how to cope with how I've been feeling. When I began, my feelings were much stronger, though, and now, days later when I am able to finish, I see that my emotions have shifted on to other things. Already this event seems like a distant memory lost in a dream that may not even be real. I don't want to forget Kaiden, though, because he has made me realize that there are some things that transcend distance and can bring a family together. I've got to learn to be closer to my family, even if they're 2000 miles away. The other reason I wrote this was because I thought if I put this on paper, I could sort out how I was feeling and come up with something to say to Megan that didn't sound so banal. Unfortunately, that is where I failed, likely due to how long it took me to write this post.
Either way, I ask that each of you stop and read Kaiden's obituary, and remember him and his family.
