A mother, a writer, had two beautiful children. She wrote of funny things her children said, did, and seemed like an ideal family.
Then an accident, her son drown, in a flooded creek. Leaving her daughter alone with no big brother to grow up with, a father with no son to play catch with, and a mother with a huge hole in her heart.
As I read this mother's entries as she talked of her son and the wonderful boy he was and she, like any mother, had wanted to watch him grow past 12...I was heartbroken for her. I didn't even know this woman, but I cried for her and her family.
One particular entry that stung my heart was her describing finding something that smelled like her son. Everything had accidentally been washed. Finally they found a shirt and her daughter and her inhaled the scent of Jack.
Seriously, I had to bite down on my lips because I was sobbing so hard. I put away the Ipad so I wouldn't read anymore. I went and laid next to my only living son and watched him slumber so peacefully...as if nothing horrible had ever happened to him.
I wept and tried desperately not to wake him. When he began to stir from my crying I kissed him on the hair and stood - leaving a pool of tears on his pillow.
How grateful I was right then for Bryce. I have never wanted to brush aside the children I have living for the pain of losing one. But in the daily life of craziness, even though I understand acutely how much it hurts to say goodbye to a child, I forget to take time to appreciate them the way I should.
Reading of this woman lose her only son made me think of how much I had wanted another boy. Declan had been my answer to prayers. I'm not sure why, but I had desperately wanted a boy. As my daughter had come looking just like her big brother I was pretty sure it would happen again. Since Declan was a surprise and we didn't know what gender he would be, I had hoped so hard that he was a boy. I felt so sure he was...though others had told me they thought he was a girl. When I found out I was thrilled and heartbroken at the same time. How much I had wanted that little boy and how excited I was that he looked just like his big brother...
My dear friend from high school had to deliver her son much too early. It has been an amazing miracle to watch him survive against all odds. It reaffirms that Declan wasn't meant to be here and quite honestly I never, ever would want this for anyone. I already had to watch my aunt and uncle go through it...which is torture. Knowing their pain and knowing that nothing I do will make it go away...is terrible. It is a wound that cannot be healed quickly or through any other way but the Atonement. Not to say that people are useless and their help isn't soothing. But there is only so much that can be done. I found that out quickly when I would have a hard time sobbing in the middle of the night...not even Christian could comfort me. It meant a lot that he would hold me and cuddle me in my darkest hours, but only the comfort of the Spirit would reach deep into my soul and pull me from my horror.
I am so grateful to those who were there for me and still are. It seems only yesterday I came home from the hospital and now I am planning another blanket donation for Declan's 2nd birthday. How quickly time is speeding ahead. There is so much of me that wants to be past the pain and anguish of each day and only have days, not months of it. But then a lot of me doesn't want Declan forgotten. I worry about it, probably more than I should. I know we won't or my kids won't forget him...and lately I have had many remind me that they won't either. Honestly, that means more than anything...remembering.