After spending over two decades trying to understand my son Jake, I’ve come to realize one undeniable truth: he completely understood his parents.
In just over a year, Jake experienced the loss of his father—my husband Tom—due to prostate cancer on October 6, 2021, and nearly lost me when a 4,000-pound SUV hit me while I was cycling on August 6, 2020.
You may have heard the saying that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. For me, it’s humor that captured my heart. My husband’s playful wit diffused countless potential arguments during our 27 years of marriage. His ability to turn my frowns into smiles helped our two children navigate their transition to adulthood and kept me out of serious trouble.
So, when the unusual side effects of my bike accident began to emerge—such as anxiety and paranoia—Jake instinctively knew how to help. The accident had turned our family’s life upside down just a month after Jake’s 21st birthday. Initially, it was uncertain whether I would survive, as I had suffered a traumatic brain injury, a broken jaw, and multiple fractures.
When I finally regained consciousness in the hospital, unable to speak, I was handed a pad and pen. I drew a question mark to ask what had happened. I was horrified to learn that my relaxed bike ride with friends had been interrupted by a distracted driver who nearly killed me and left my family deeply traumatized.
Weeks later, I was discharged back into my family’s care. During one of Jake’s babysitting shifts, he took me to the grocery store, seeking a break from the confines of our suburban home. On our drive back, the GPS directed us down a frighteningly busy Route 22 toward Newark, New Jersey. Gripped by anxiety from my accident, I urged Jake to drive cautiously because “traffic makes me really sensitive now.”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “Mom, when you woke up in the hospital, we should have told you that you were attacked by a bear. Then you wouldn’t be scared in the car—you’d only freak out when you see bears.” He then zipped into the passing lane. I held my breath but couldn’t help stifling a laugh as my fears began to dissipate.
Then came Tom’s harrowing battle with prostate cancer. While I was recovering in the hospital, his oncologist informed him he had a limited time left. Once I returned to work, it wasn’t long before Tom became so frail he required home hospice care. Our family took turns caring for him, with Jake, his 24-year-old sister Emily, and I each covering shifts.
Tom had surprised us by insisting on remaining in the high queen bed of our master bedroom. It was his way of holding on to some semblance of normalcy amid the chaos cancer had wreaked on our lives. However, after he fell out of that bed one night and hit his head, we knew it was time for him to move to a lower bed in the guest room.
The issue was, he refused to leave his high perch. I tried logical explanations, then resorted to pleading and even anger, which went on for days. Nothing worked. One day, frustrated after leaving him with Jake, I returned home, ready for another round of negotiations. As I walked past the guest room toward the master bedroom, I noticed Jake sitting next to Tom, reading a book in the wheelchair while Tom rested on the low bed. A wave of relief washed over me; I felt a rare moment of happiness.
Months later, after Tom’s passing, I asked Jake how he managed to convince his father to switch beds when I had tried everything and failed. He explained that the transition was painful, with Tom nearly losing consciousness during the move. Yet, Jake’s approach was simple. He reminded me that throughout his childhood, whenever he or Emily resisted something I requested, Tom would frame it as a team effort: “Guys, we need to keep Mom happy.” It was them against me, disguised as teamwork for me.
That day, Jake had told Tom, “We need to keep Mom happy. And you know she’s not going to be happy if you stay in that bed.” No further persuasion was necessary. Pure brilliance.
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In summary, my son’s uncanny ability to use humor and wisdom to navigate our family’s challenges during times of grief and illness has left a lasting impression on me. His approach not only lightened the mood but also helped us find common ground during some of our darkest days.