Letters to Ocean: Suffering

Ocean my son. How we have grieved for your suffering and loss of joy with the onset of your diabetes. I have tried to help in anyway that I can, through comforting you,  admonishing providers I thought to be careless, cruel or ill fit; smiling to soothe you and praying for you. However, my efforts have been a complete failure and it is agonizing to watch you kick, scream and cry - rightfully for what has been inflicted upon you. I have never seen someone poked with needles so many times, or screamed until they passed out and I wish I never had. Like all parents who are actually normal, I would trade places with you to spare you - though the suffering most likely would have killed me. I watched your bones be drilled for direct IVs to get you fluids, and I assure you were a friend, ever a close friend of deaths and sat upon her knee, tottering between the doors of worlds. The cruelty of many humans is only surpassed by their stupidity and ultimately, maybe briefly understood when they are in the position I am, and watched helplessly as an uncaring attendant vandalizes and rapes the joy from their loved ones – inflicted much pain, of course claiming it to be necessary and in the name of health.

You now rest safely with your mother. It is 2 AM, and we have been in the hospital cresting our third day. How can you, my son ever know joy again? How can I am unhear your screams?  The drilling upon your bones, eradicate the anguish, anger, powerlessness and despair. These have been transformed into shame. Soon, if we are lucky we will take you far from this place and put you back into your home, with your toys, your dog, your cat and the other staples of your life. How I feel I have failed you! To watch you suffer in the name of what? Now you must suffer forever, as we have to administer shots and blood test multiple times a day – to an infant who can barely speak? How can you not hate me, the author of your physical being, for cursing you with the vampirish disorder that will never leave you? Even now, and again I shake as I write with the echoes of your cries, hearing more from the other children in the hall – feeling they are you and that I have to standby and watch them scream to no end. Many have no parents to comfort them – May I always try to give comfort to you, my only son and joy! I am so sorry and love you more than life itself,

Dad

~Scott Sandvig 3.23.16~

Letters to Ocean: Be yourself

Ocean my son,

"Be yourself" means "think like us." Who really wants someone to be themselves? How dangerous a thing – especially for any organization.  Be Yourself ; pieces fall where they may and they do anyway - but actively attempting to do this may influence the end result, plus you will be happier along the way! We cannot know the end, only discover the way. Being said – the journey is the only thing we have some control over – enjoy it! 

         I Love You! 

                   Dad    

~Scott Sandvig 3.26.17~ 

Letters to Ocean: Shine

A diamond is not ashamed that it was forged in fire-excruciating and challenging it's very existence as a lump of coal. The pressure, coupled with millennia of darkness transfigured it from an ugly, common, worthless substance into an awe inspiring brilliance. It's very essence, situated amongst the immortals, when once it could only feed their fires. When others gaze upon its presence, they see not only its commanding facade, but their own, refracted in its illuminating – connecting all three with vision, identity and a view of what they might be like could they withstand the pressure fire and the most painful of the transfiguring elements; time. We must see ourselves as a process – on going, transformed and eternal, rather than blame the past or shame ourselves for what we did or did not do, could or could not have done. At times, a diamonds only light is it self but even with just a glimmer, it transcends oblivion and heralds eternity, as it illumes the dark. Honor the past with remembrance, blame or suffer no more. Be not the diamonds you were meant to be but rather the one you are; Shine.    Dad

~Scott Sandvig 3.27.17~

Letters to Ocean

Ocean my son! Though you cannot speak, you are feeling closer to me – often taking me by the hand to lead me to a new and wonders discovery you have made, or to share a TV show, or pay a visit to the fridge. Today I sang a song to you, song my mother used to sing – "the little blue man" – and you laughed and laughed wanting to be tickled more and more, as I sang through the "I love you, I love you" parts! I think you would have enjoyed her – perhaps you remember her somewhere from the field beyond, before you came to us? Your diabetes is beyond managing, and you have lost your appetite for most things except chocolate, chips and pizza. Still you bless us with your smiles, adventurous spirit and endless curiosity. These are just a few of your mannerisms that bring us joy and make it so easy to love you! Never let someone – even if it is your parents, earthly or otherwise – take your self from you! If ever you find yourself there, step back into the light that is you and plot new course. We are the light.

I love you my dear son, Dad. 1.17.17

May 2015

November 2016