🙋🏻‍♂️
Jason has FOMO.
Fear of Missing Out.
I say “has” because I’m 99.9% sure that he still has it.

Coleman has it, too.
Just like his ability to make friends and confidence in public speaking, Coleman got FOMO from his dad.

They love to be part of the action.
They wrestle with what to do when they have to make a choice between two awesome things.
They truly regret missing out.

About a half hour after Jason died, Coleman woke up at home and called me at the hospital. He was asleep when we went to the hospital at 10 pm the night before. Our aide, Jarom, was babysitting for us. I fully expected to be home by the time Coleman woke up.

Things didn’t go as planned. 

“Mom, where are you?”
“We’re at the hospital. Dad got sick last night. Grandma is going to bring you here.” And trying to sound like this was going to be just a normal day, I added, ”Get your backpack ready for school and they’ll bring you here.”

This wasn’t my typical “Dad’s in the hospital behavior” - where I come home, drive the carpool to school, and we visit dad after school.

He knew that.
“Mom, where are you?” he asked again.
“We’re at the hospital. It’s ok. I’ll see you soon.”

Just after 7 am I met him in the ICU hallway, wrapped my arms around him and said, “Coleman, Dad got sick last night and he died.”

I knelt on the tile floor as his head went to my shoulder and we wept together.

I took him in to see his dad.
The warrior who fought to the bitter end.
The man who loved being a dad more than anything else.

We sat in a chair together right by his bed.
I whispered how Jason’s heart beat for his son during those last minutes.
I whispered that now he could run and play lacrosse and could do everything he couldn’t do in a wheelchair.
I whispered that he loves us so much.
Coleman sat on my lap in that chair, and whispered back, “Mom, what are we going to do?”

“It’s going to be really hard but we can do this.”

Sitting together with Jason was a special time. A sacred time of feeling close to Jason and close to each other.

Other friends and family rushed to the hospital to offer support. Coleman and I stuck together. When he was ready to leave the hospital room, we took a walk down the hall. Then went back to Jason’s room again after awhile to sit by his side once more.

At 8:10 am we were sitting in a special room reserved for family. I knew Coleman had an end of year party at school that day.

I asked him what he wanted to do about school.
He said, “I don’t really want to go...but it’s Bend the Rules Day.”
There it was. FOMO.
I had to smile when he said that. Of course he wouldn’t want to miss Bend the Rules Day! Who would??? It was our PTA fundraiser...we paid money so he could break those school rules!

His Hubba Bubba Bubbletape was making a circular bulge in his front pocket.
He had his special pen in his backpack because he didn’t have to use a pencil that day.
He was ready to do the whole list of rule-breaking activities scheduled.

But I knew that we needed to be together that day. There was no way I could just drop him off at school by himself...and me spend the day without him.
I asked him, “What if I go to school with you?”
“That’s a good idea,” he said.

So, the day Jason died, I went to fourth grade.
No makeup, having stayed up all night at the hospital, clothes on from the night before.
None of that mattered.
We just went to school.

We told the principal together.
We told his teacher together.
We sat at the table on the side of the room while the principal told the class.
All 31 of us were sad together.

For the next six hours we sat at the table while Coleman took his spelling test, did his math with his pen, chewed his Hubba Bubba.
He received hugs and kind words from his classmates.
They dropped off notes and drawings and little gifts from their desks.

He went to the “bend the rules” dance party in the library.
He played football at recess.

When they announced over the intercom that it was time for the fourth graders to break the ultimate rule of all and RUN in the halls, I said, “I bet Dad wants to run with you.”
He grinned and took off to the designated meeting place.
Coleman came back breathing a little heavier and said, “Mom! I think I beat Dad!”🏃🏻‍♂️

We got a lot of love that day.
A lot of compassion and care and support from our school community.
It ended up being the perfect place to be on the worst day of our lives.

Yes, his Dad died that day, but at least Coleman didn’t have to miss Bend the Rules Day, too.
✊🏻💙