http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/7100394.htm
Posted on Sat, Oct. 25, 2003
Dying mother can rest easy
A terminally ill woman, after a year and a half of uncertainty, finally knows that her young son will be taken care of.
BY ELINOR J. BRECHER [email protected]
More than a year before she knew she was dying, Idita Nichols sat down at her son's computer and began to plan a future for him without her.
It was Feb. 12, 2002, when the single mother of a 12-year-old, diagnosed with breast cancer in 1998, wrote a last will and testament and articulated her wishes for Zaron's care.
Since then, radiation, chemotherapy and surgery have failed to arrest the disease, which has spread to her organs and bones.
When it became clear that no one in her family could or would take Zaron, Nichols -- who is in her final lucid days -- began a frenzied search for her son's new family.
It wasn't a simple matter, given that he has serious health problems and that she wants him to be raised as a Jehovah's Witness, the faith that she embraced but isn't shared by her relatives.
Nichols lies bedridden in a Carol City apartment, tended by nurses and aides from Catholic Hospice, sure of two things -- she won't live much longer but her planning paid off.
MATTER SETTLED
On Tuesday, a family from the Carol City Kingdom Hall that Nichols attends agreed to take Zaron, which sent a lawyer running to court so Nichols might die assured that the matter had been settled.
''The mother was explicit that she didn't want him overseen by the Department of Children & Families,'' said LaShawn Strachan, the attorney handling Zaron's guardianship.
''Knowing the kind of child he is, it didn't take long to agree,'' said Vivien Lake of Miami Gardens, Zaron's new guardian, a referral coordinator for a family doctor. She and her husband, Fitz, a medical-company courier, have three grown sons and a 17-year-old daughter.
''Zaron is a very intelligent child. He is on the quiet side, but when you get him talking, you realize he has depth,'' she said. ''He is very mature for his age.'' Zaron has sickle cell disease, an incurable, inherited blood disorder. But the Lakes aren't worried about the medical expenses.
ONE MORE MOUTH
''When it comes to helping someone, where does your love begin?'' Vivien Lake asked. ``We know our daily bread didn't come solely through our own effort. Jehovah will provide for one more mouth.''
It was another of Nichols' last wishes that her story might alert single parents to the importance of dealing with such a crucial matter in time, a conclusion that the Rev. Bill Carp Jr., the Hospice chaplain working with her, heartily endorses.
''We are a death-denying society,'' Carp said. ``Society as a whole views death as very bad, so they push it aside. People don't have wills and don't give it a second thought. It's especially important for a single parent who is faced with an issue of this magnitude. Making plans ahead of time is an act of responsibility and care.''
FATHER NOW DEAD
Nichols specifically didn't want her son to go to his father, a Muslim whom she never married. In any case, the man -- an illegal immigrant who drove a New York City cab -- died two months ago in his native Ivory Coast.
Zaron's half-brother, Joel Petersen, is a Jehovah's Witness but isn't in a position to raise him. He's only 22, struggling to balance college studies and a job in New York City. The rest of the relatives aren't Witnesses.
Lying on black-and-white-striped sheets in her tidy three-bedroom apartment Thursday, the 45-year-old former nursing aide shuffled through a stack of thick white envelopes containing missives to friends and relatives.
She had signed a contract with someone to buy her car and the contents of her home so Zaron and Joel could have some money; designated a healthcare surrogate for herself who is not a relative; and told the significant people in her life exactly what they meant to her, good and bad. To some, she offers gratitude and affection; to others, the sting of rebuke for attention not paid, help not given, sympathy not offered.
CRIED MANY TIMES
''I felt I should do it,'' said Nichols, born in the Netherlands to parents who traced their ancestors to St. Croix. ''I need them to be told so other people can learn from it. I cried many times.'' She has prepared Zaron as well as she can, she said.
''We had talked about death'' even before she got sick, Nichols said as she drifted toward a medicated sleep. ``I don't know why, but I always teach him things -- that one day we die and we don't know when or how. It depends on Jehovah.''
When the time comes to leave, Zaron, who did not want to be interviewed, will take his Pokemon posters, his computer, the photo banner with his picture and his mom's in a heart that says, ``Always and forever.''
He may also take the souvenirs of his mother's travels -- the Hawaiian landscape over the sofa, the framed color pictures from Germany and France, the photos from the San Diego Zoo.
These, said Nicholas Gross, a bereavement and chaplain services manager for Catholic Hospice, are ''linking objects,'' sure to comfort a boy who will be grappling with much heartache.