Numerous thoughts permeate the mind of the grieving mother. Random thoughts. Warped thoughts. Angry thoughts. Sad thoughts. Questioning thoughts.

Would I have changed the way that he died if I had a choice?

Meaning this: not change the fact that he died. That's a given, of course. If I could do anything to bring him back, I would. If I could live my own life in a 4 X 4 cell eating nothing but bread and water knowing that he was alive and well, I would.

No, the question that goes through my mind is this one. Would I have rather known he was going to die so that I could have had the time to say goodbye?

In case you haven't read my posts about the loss of my son, he died completely unexpectedly in his sleep. We had no warning. He went to bed "healthy" and died sometime during the night. He was thirteen.

No chance to say goodbye.

No warning.

The trauma of finding him.

Would I have rather he had cancer? Would I have rather we went to the doctor and they said, "The outlook is grim." ? Would I have wanted him to suffer simply so I could have more time with him?

I have a friend who is watching her sweet two-year old suffer. He has brain cancer.

Yet, she has hope. There is still a chance for a miracle. There is still time to talk to her child. There is still time to hug her child, to love her child, to see a glimpse of his beautiful smile.

The morning my son died all hope died.

Selfishly, I would say I would want to have had a chance to try to save him. I would have wanted to say goodbye. Yet, no, I wouldn't want him to suffer. I remember seeing him cry tears of fear and pain when he was little getting an x-ray, getting a shot, feeling sick. But at least I could hug him and try to make him feel better.

Of course, this speculation is a moot point. My son is gone. And I had no choice in the matter.