Welcome to Zayden's blog. For those who are new here, I am Zayden's Grammie. I was his primary caregiver for the majority of his short yet profoundly beautiful and meaningful life. Recently, I’ve been asked to take on something that I find incredibly difficult—should I approach it with full honesty, laying everything bare? I have always strived to remain neutral, choosing to share only my personal thoughts, feelings, and my direct experiences with Zayden’s medical journey, while making a conscious effort not to cast anyone in a negative light, no matter the circumstances.
Yet, I fear that if I comply with this request, I may lose the ability to represent things objectively and truthfully. This past year has been filled with so many events I strongly disagreed with, actions I stood firmly against, and choices that left me deeply disappointed. These moments, more often than not, have sparked unnecessary drama, pulling away precious time, energy, and the joy I should have been cherishing and holding close in life. Instead, they left me drained, questioning how to move forward.
Now, with the loss of Zayden, I am entirely overwhelmed with emotions that are difficult to contain—profound sorrow, anger, disappointment, and consuming regret. These feelings weigh heavily on me, leaving me unable to summon compassion or understanding for others in the way I once could. Empathy, once a cornerstone of my being, now feels entirely out of reach. My heart is unbearably heavy, filled with anger that teeters dangerously on the edge of rage, all because of the stark contrast between what should have been and the reality I’m left to face. I struggle daily to comprehend the attitudes and behaviors I’ve witnessed over the past year—choices that, in some cases, prioritized others’ selfish needs and desires over Zayden’s well-being. The thought of how his precious time was stolen, diluted by the needs or whims of others, breaks my heart. That time could have been spent creating cherished and meaningful memories with my beloved grandson, moments we will now never have.
Do I find it deeply difficult, even painful, to hear others attempt to justify their pain or claim to feel Zayden’s loss more keenly than I do? Absolutely, without a doubt. I’ve given so much of myself for others over the years, and I’ve done so willingly, without hesitation or regret. But when it comes to Zayden, I simply cannot allow anyone to diminish the profound depth of my grief or try to compare it to theirs. This isn’t a competition, nor should it ever be. There’s no prize, no reward, for who feels the loss the most or the least. Grief is not something that can be measured; it’s deeply personal, uniquely seared into the heart of each individual it touches.
Now, all I am left with are unrelenting waves of regret, others’ endless bargaining for understanding or resolution, and the all-encompassing ache of profound loss. I no longer have the emotional capacity or strength to take on others’ burdens as I once did. My focus must remain on honoring my love for Zayden, holding fast to his memory, and finding a way to navigate the immense depths of this grief, one solitary moment at a time.
As time goes on, and I have been able to better process my grief of losing Zayden, maybe I will be able to represent the feelings of others who were important in Zayden's life. But at this time, I am unable to do so without causing more harm than good to family relationships. In the midst of this journey, I am finding comfort in honoring Zayden's memory through small, meaningful acts — whether it's starting "Zayden's Crusade Foundation Inc" or it's revisiting places that held special significance to him, sharing cherished stories with close friends, or quietly reflecting on the ways he impacted my life. These moments allow me to keep his spirit alive and remind me of how deeply he touched the lives of those around him. It’s a way for me to focus on the love and joy he brought, even as I navigate the complexities of grief.
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