29th March, 2019
6 months
On this day, six months ago, Nick passed away. About two weeks later, Matthew and I had to
confront the horrific reality of retrieving his stuff from his room in
Etobicoke. Thankfully, Nick’s landlords
were wonderful and refunded all of our rent money and even allowed us to return
to this room in our own time. Entering the
tiny confines of his space was beyond brutal.
Nick had only moved in there 6 weeks prior, so full of hope for the
future and so looking forward to starting his life, studying at the school and achieving much needed
independence from his parents. Within
two short weeks, he made many friends
and clearly relished this opportunity.
Underneath, however, the reality was quite different. Out of a desire to protect us, Nick did not disclose
the fact that he was still experiencing seizures and coughing up blood. When we arrived on that horrible day in
October to collect his belongings, we found several empty bottles of pain
medication as well as a sketch of the tattoo pictured above, left on his desk,
lovingly drawn by Alex. Nick had clearly
foreseen his own death as imminent. The
image was one last stab in our heart. If
he had complained about his plight, his death might have been easier to bear,
but never once did he betray his own fears to anyone else; he kept his own suffering inside, determined
to live as a 23 year old for the time he had left, and not as a terminal cancer
patient. This illustration was the only
indication that he was profoundly aware of his impending mortality.
At six months into this, our grief is only beginning. Everything reminds us of Nick and what we will never get to experience together. Please don’t tell us that we should be over
this by now or that we have the option
of choosing hope over despair, which is what one well-meaning friend has suggested. If you feel this way, you’ve
clearly never lost a child. This is
the deepest, darkest hell imaginable.
I’ve included the song "Time to say Goodbye" which was playing
when we first came to purchase this house.
I was pregnant with Vincent and Nick was 4 years old. The song seems so appropriate now for obvious
reasons.
We’ve recently learned that the City of London has agreed to
put up a plaque in memory of Nick at the skate park in Byron. We had fought for this park for so long and
construction began in 2011, a year before Nick was diagnosed. He was just 16. The attached article details
our struggle to gain community acceptance for the park. The plaque will read:
Nicholas Greeson (1995-2018)
Warrior, Poet, Man of Honour
Musician and Skateboarder
Helped found Byron Skate Park
Battled cancer for six years
Renowned for his stoicism,
Courage, integrity and
Joie de vivre.
Forever young.
Loved and Remembered always.
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