The calling home of our grandson, Christopher Michael Restaino:
During the late afternoon of March 18 an urgent call came that no grandparent ever wants to receive. Our daughter, Michelle, told us that she found our 19 year-old grandson, Christopher, in a coma due to a severe hypoglycemic seizure. The seizure induced vomiting, and since he was laying on his back in bed, he aspirated with fluids filling his lungs. He was alone with no one to come to his aid, and by the time his mother returned home from work, the several hours without adequate oxygen had left him barely breathing. When he arrived at the hospital, there was no brain activity whatsoever. He was brain dead. They kept him on a respirator until his dad, Sergio, and 14 year old brother, Alex could fly home from Florida to see him for the last time. (They had left that morning on a Boy Scout sailing trip in the Bahamas). After the brainwave test confirmed the doctors dreaded speculations, he was pronounced dead the morning of the 19th and then the respirator was removed the following morning. His breathing ceased and his body came to a peaceful rest. Being an organ donor, several people will live and now have sight.
Christopher was our firstborn grandson, the love of our lives. In some ways I do not believe our own children could be any closer to us than was he. Perhaps his life-threatening medical condition since he was three months old was a factor, I don’t know; but I do know that we have never walked this path before, and this great loss is an extremely dark valley spreading before us. However, we also know that the quote I posted recently on our web site stands much greater and shines into that darkness. It stands as a beacon of hope, assuring us that “If God brings us to it, He will bring us through it.” And He has brought us to it, to an extremely hard place which seems impossible to pass through. Nevertheless, surely He will bring us through it, and even before that place is settled and secured, we know we should say that all is well, but at this time it is not in our hearts to voice such a thing while our hearts are so broken.
Thank you for standing with us during this time of sorrow.
Elwin & Margit Roach
P.S. Today (3/19/2013) it has been eight years since that terrible day. We can still see him so vividly being rolled down that dark corridor in ICU to never return with his loving, warm embrace. Although the wound is not quite so raw, at times, the loss is no less than when we saw him fade into the shadows for his organs to be taken and given so others might see and live. As he lived his life, he did the same in death--always giving, giving, always giving, and still giving. That was our Christopher and still is, this we know, yet in another place, in another realm, in another time of as we await our turn to join him in this mystery. What a day!