March 27

You and Evy in Mickey's House

Dear Christian

It has been a long time since I have written you a letter. I can’t decide if the days are getting easier or harder. One of the main reasons I don’t want to blog to you is because I don’t have any new pictures to choose from. I hate that your last pictures look so sick and unwell. I like to go back to the pictures from Disneyland when you were so healthy and strong. When your cheeks were full and your eyes sparkled. The color of your skin was a beautiful pink and smiles dominated your face. I want to remember these days and not your last days.

I seem to have the most difficulty when I think about you getting sick, it has always been my biggest fear – to watch you slowly die. I knew with where your tumor was that your death would not be pretty or fast. That you would suffer and would feel every ounce of limitation. Your last three weeks here on earth were the most difficult weeks of my life and I just can’t seem to get them out of my head. My only peace comes from knowing that you do not dwell on these things. And if you could speak to my ears you would tell me to let those horrible thoughts go and to not remember the pain and discomfort but to relish instead in our love. The times we spent lying together in our hospital bed. The times we laughed over the same parts of the movies we watched over and over. The last night we spent cuddled together I woke up to find you curled over onto my shoulder despite the fact you were unconscious – you found a way to me. And I can remember how your breathing improved overnight and I lay there in the morning watching the monitors and feeling your head on my shoulder. I remind myself that you never asked to go home or when this whole ordeal would be over. You never asked any questions, you just did what you had to do. And I like to think that God ministered to you in your sleep and in your unconscious state. That He spoke love and understanding into your soul so that you were never troubled.

Yesterday I clean up your room and put some of your toys away. I like to think that you sat beside me on the carpet and touched my leg while I slowly took apart your hero factory guys and packaged them away. I like to think you smiled while Evelyn enjoyed playing with Cat Lady like you guys used to do so often. At midnight last night the moon was full and shone thru your window and lite up your whole room. I layed on the floor and cried and asked God for peace. I remembered all the times we spent sitting in that same spot with your Star Wars drawer pulled out. We would organized your men into categories and put all the right guns and lightsabers into their hands. And all of this is still so surreal. I cannot believe that you are gone. That I can no longer play with you or hold you. We went to the pool today and it always makes me sad when I think about how much you loved the water. As Evelyn gets bigger and stronger I know you two would have been the best of play friends. She swims around the pool and jumps off the side just as you did.

We went for lunch after swimming and Ryan ate a toasted cheese bagel and I quickly remembered how many of those bagels the two of you shared. You would pull all of the soft stuff out of the middle and Ryan would eat anything that was left over. This morning I said to Ryan, “Do you remember eating bagels with Christian?” And he said, “I do remember eating bagels with Christian, in my dreams”. I pray that you are visiting him in his sleep so he will never forget you. That he will look at your picture and always remember you as his big brother. Yesterday he hurt himself in the toy room and he began crying, “I want Christian, I want Christian”. And I never thought that my heart could hurt so much. Not just for our loss but for theirs as well.

Well sweetheart when I have moments of missing you that are always followed by tears I think of the verse your papa shared with me from Hebrews 12:1

 “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us”

And I find peace knowing that you are watching me and guiding my heart. That you dance around heaven and clap and sing when you see your family having fun and rejoicing. That the same things you longed for hear on earth you are earning for in heaven. That each of us is loved, smiling, happy and comfortable. I love you so much.

Mommy

March 5

Dear Christian

I am sitting here on the floor in our vacation house in Phoenix, in the corner of the room, and you are on my heart so heavy today. Some days are better than others – today was a struggle. Everybody grieves differently and in different stages. I have been trying not to look at your pictures or think of you too much as the pain is just so overwhelming and I don’t know what to do with it. But today your daddy was missing you so much. He told me he wished an angel would bring you back to us. This set me off on a sorrowful episode of missing you more than my heart could handle. I had a vision of the doorbell ringing in the morning and when I go down the stairs to answer it you would be there, waiting for me. I would ask you where you have been and you tell me, “I was with Jesus”. The vision only reminds me that I can’t have you any more, I can’t return your smiling face with love, I can’t hold your little body. So instead I decided to write you a letter and tell you how much I love you.

Most days when I am sad for you, or am feeling crushed by all that you had to endure over these past few years, I like to think of you in heaven. I find peace thinking of the glory you are amongst and the notion that pain is no longer a part of your days. I imagine you smiling and enjoying your freedom. I imagine you looking down on your family and loving us from afar. I wish there was someway that I could feel this love in a tangible way. Today your daddy and I went on a hike and we talked about you a lot. We talked about how much time we spent in the hospital over these past few years. When you were first sick you were just a little boy, so small and innocent. Daddy always stayed with you because mommy had a new baby to take care of at home. You always kept him awake till the wee hours of the morning. Playing DS games and watching old Spiderman and Batman cartoons. But as time wore on you grew up so fast. You became a little man, a wise old soul that touched my heart so deeply.  I try not to cringe when I think of the days that were such a struggle for you, I don’t want to think about them because I know you don’t consider them either. You are not sad they happened and so I shouldn’t be either.

The thoughts I try to get out of my head the most are your last few days here with us. We prayed and believed so hard that you were going to be healed that it was such a shock when Nurse Megan told us you were taking your last breaths, that I should get up into bed with you and hold you. I can see your skinny face covered by your oxygen mask, your whole body desperately trying to take in each breath. We had just finished giving you a bath and change your diaper. You were clean and ready but we could tell by the way you went limp when your daddy lifted you out of bed that your soul was already gone from your body before you actually took your last breaths. So I like to imagine that while I cried and prayed holding you those two hours after you passed away, that you were holding me. That you were stroking my hair and touching my face and trying to tell me that you were so good. That the pain was gone and you were amongst glory and greatness. That Jesus himself carried past the pearly gates and welcomed you. That you felt nothing but love and pure joy, like no love or joy I could ever imagine.

Now I am trying to find a way to reroute the love and affection that I had for you into something good, into Evelyn and Ryan. I am trying to find ways to remember you without breaking down into a million sobbing tears. Your daddy and I talk about you every chance we get, to anybody who will listen. We want everybody to know how proud we are of you, how proud we are that you fought and fought and fought. It helps to talk about you to other people, even if it makes me cry it feels like you are still around when we speak your name. Evelyn often tells me of things you guys have done or places you have gone even though you are not here so I know that she plays with you in her mind. The other day she told me you were far away in unicorn land and there were so many games that you guys didn’t get a chance to play. I pray you are watching over her, easing her pain that she doesn’t understand or have the emotions to express.

I miss you Christian, to the million stars in the sky and back.

Love Mommy