Without a Word_ How a Boy's Unspoken Love Changed Everything - Jill Kelly [17]
I wanted to scream, “This isn’t fair! Could all of you just stop for one minute and everything stand still?”—because all I knew as life had come to a screeching halt.
Jim stayed quiet. What could he say or do? He was just as confused and frightened as I was.
In Jim’s Own Words
I was numb and shocked. I didn’t want to believe it was true. I didn’t know what to do. It just didn’t seem real. Hunter looked good; except for all the crying, he seemed healthy. There was no history of disease in my family or in Jill’s, so where did something like this come from?
At first I was ticked off at everything and everybody—especially God. Why did my son, born on my birthday, have to be sick? And not just sick. He was dying, and there was nothing I could do to help him. Nothing. How are you supposed to just take your son home and watch him deteriorate? Watch him die? I wanted to do something, anything. But what?
We’re Kellys—we don’t give up. We don’t ever give up…. I wasn’t going to let Hunter go without a fight…. He’s my son, my only son…. But there was absolutely nothing I could do to make him better.
When Jim and I returned home from the doctor’s office, my mother was waiting for us. I gave her the details of the test results.
“There must be a mistake,” she proclaimed with confidence. “I don’t believe it. There has to be something we can do. I want to talk to the doctor myself.”
As my mother went to call Dr. Duffner, I sat on the couch with Hunter and wept. Erin was very confused. “What’s wrong, Mommy? Why are you crying?”
How do you explain the unexplainable to a two-year-old? How do you tell a child that her brother is going to die? Is there a way to communicate pain that you can’t comprehend yourself?
As I sat drenched in tears, cradling Hunter in my arms, Erin snuggled up next to me and whispered, “Everything’s going to be okay, Mommy. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Little did she know that everything was not going to be okay. Our lives would never be the same.
Chapter 5
Searching for Hope
When Jim and I were told that our son would not live to see his second birthday, my quest for hope began. I was on a desperate search for treatment and a cure, aching for even a shred of hope and some sign of the God I thought I knew growing up.
Our family had plunged into a wilderness of despair that every parent fears. I was convinced help was out there, but where? Who could rescue us and give us some hope to cling to?
Though he might have wanted to, it was pretty obvious that Jim couldn’t save the day for me or our family. If anything, Hunter’s diagnosis only made the problems in our marriage and family all the more evident.
After Jim retired from the NFL and Hunter got sick, I assumed Jim would be around more. His work as a color analyst for NBC (and later, ESPN) necessitated a lot of travel. Still, I thought he would make a way to be with us as much as possible. When he didn’t, my resentment grew and bitterness wrapped its vicious, unrelenting coils around my heart. Every time Jim would come home, those coils would tighten, paralyzing what little love and respect I had left. (No wonder the divorce rate is so high for professional athletes, let alone professional athletes with a terminally ill child. The deck was stacked against us big-time.)
With Hunterboy not expected to live very long, we knew this meant his needs would intensify as his illness progressed. Though I wasn’t very optimistic that Jim would drop everything to be by his side, I continued to hope that he would. All the while, I was consumed with caring for Hunter. Emotionally and physically I felt drained with nothing left to give. What little energy I had in reserve was spent on Hunter’s older sister, Erin. There was no time for Jim. And to be frank, I didn’t care. The seed of resentment was well rooted in our marriage by this point, so any desire to respond to him as a wife was gone.
It didn’t matter to