White gloves

I will never forget how you used to show us how much you loved us

Dear Christian

Tonight your daddy and I were walking around the store when daddy spotted some white stretchy gloves. Immediately he thought about last Halloween when we had to run out to Wallmart to find you gloves so you could look like Captain Rex. I remember you wearing the white gloves that were not so ‘stretchy’ on your tiny little hands. You proudly wore your Captain Rex costume and carried your toy guns around the gym for the costume parade. Nobody bothering to remind us about the ‘no toy gun’ policy at school because, well, your Christian and everybody wanted what was best for you. Even if it meant breaking the rules!!!

 

The best Captain Rex - ever!!!!

You are everywhere to me. You are every airplane that goes over our house, every cool cloud I see in the sky, every full moon that lights up your bedroom in the middle of the night and every silly face your brother and sister make. As fall descends upon us and we watch everybody else return to ‘normal’ life we struggle to find normal. We struggle to move through each day while watching other families get excited about new schools, new activities, new friends and new experiences. We try to not think about you too much as the pain just seems insurmountable. But you are everywhere. Evelyn asks about you a lot these days. She wonders about heaven and how you got there. How come the doctors couldn’t make you well. She suggested that we should have tried some different medicine or maybe we could have used some of her blood. It breaks my heart to think that she even has these thoughts. She misses you so much but just don’t have the words or abilities to express it. We talk about you all the time and tell her how great heaven is. I told her about the amazing animals you get to play with, the beautiful weather and of course that you get to be with Jesus. That you aren’t sick anymore and don’t have to go to the hospital for needles.

Your brother Ryan is such a little crazy that I think you guys would have had a blast together. He was so frustrated when I went to the hospital to have Joshua. He didn’t understand where I had gone, as the hospital always meant something scary or painful for you. Then we came home with a new baby, which I think he was even less impressed by. Referring to Joshua as “it” and telling me to put it away or take it upstairs. Then your daddy went back to work that made him even less happy and he started rebelling by pooping on the floor and getting into anything and everything that wasn’t secured. Many mornings Grammy found Ryan downstairs in the kitchen getting into something he wasn’t supposed to. One morning he was standing on the countertop trying to reach the candy shelf, the next he is pouring out Josh’s tummy medicine, he attempted to make coffee another morning and the list goes on. He is so cute, big and smart. I try not to think about how well you guys would have gotten along. Playing hockey, batman, star wars and golf. He tells me most mornings that you guys were playing hockey and making playdoh in the night. He seems to know you and love you speak of you as though you are just away on vacation. I pray you keep speaking into his heart and his mind so he never forgets his big brother.

 

Baby Joshua

As for daddy and I we are trying our best to move ahead each day. Daddy is trying very hard at work but some days you are just so present in everything he sees. A special book at school, Green Egg and Ham, or even just roaming the hallways that you used to run down. As summer turns to fall and the next holidays loom, I wonder what will become of the Crowell family that used to be so involved in everything and liked to organize family events. Will I be able to watch everybody else celebrate and enjoy the holidays that will only bring me strong reminders that something is missing? Something will be so wrong on Halloween day, Thanksgiving turkey dinner, my birthday, Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. No, I think this year, my sweety, I will check out and choose a different road, one that isn’t so painful and full of reminders of what we should have as a family. We should be a full family of six but we are not. We are a family of five with one empty seat that can never be filled. It can’t be filled with new babies, jobs, or any length of time. I will miss you forever. My heart will be broken forever. Each night when I lay my head on the pillow I am thankful that I am one day closer to eternity. One day closer to holding you and knowing full love again. Until then I pray you continue to watch over us, watch over your brothers and sister. Please continue to walk with us and show us God’s glory. I love you all the way to Tatoieen and back. 

HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY CHRISTIAN

Fantastic 5th birthday

Dear Christian
There are few words today. Just wanted to say how much I love you and miss you. I know the party is grand in heaven, as it is everyday. I know you are with us today and loving everyone of us with all your soul. We are having your favorite for supper, pizza from Domino's. A few weeks before you left us you told me that when you got out of the hospital you wanted pizza from Domino's so tonight is just for you. Evan and I made cupcakes that I know you loved. You loved to help me make them and then eat them, well mostly you just licked the icing off the top. But today with heaviness in my heart, I am trusting that God has a grand plan for all of us and that I will see you again in heaven. One day we will celebrate together again. Until then I will think of you everyday and miss you every minute, love you all the way to the death star and back my sweetie.

Awesome 4th birthday celebration

3rd Birthday - the love of golf begins.....

1st birthday - the love of our lives

Your "birth" day - one of the best days of my life

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYAN AND JOSHUA CHRISTIAN

Happy 3rd Birthday Ryan

It has been a very long time since I have written anything. You would think with the passing of time that things might get easier, maybe the pain might dull a little – but it doesn’t. We grieve in silence, behind our closed bedroom door or when we are alone together at night. Sometimes I cry in Evan's room at night when I am reading her stories. She asks me questions about Christian, why he can’t come back from heaven. And do I miss him? I try to read her stories but my voice quivers and I try my hardest to hold back the tears. I feel so much sadness for a little girl who will never know her older brother again. Despair for the questions that I can see are in her eyes but she doesn’t want to say. I look at pictures of the two of them together and the pain in my chest is tangible and I wish I could put my hand inside my chest and ripe out my heart. Does Evelyn think that Christian has abandoned her? I wish there was some way that I could explain to her so that she wouldn’t be lonely or wonder why he doesn’t come back. All of these emotions, feeling of sadness are unbelievably strong and seem to just linger below the surface. Far enough down that if I don’t look at any of his pictures or sit still for too long I can keep them there.

I am sure more people would assume that after a while the pain would be less but all that happens is that we feel left alone. While everybody else’ life continues on, usually at rocket pace, ours seems to be heavy and unmoving. Not that I blame anybody, before Christian died I wouldn’t have gotten it either. I don’t feel anger for people around me who are happy. I want to be happy too. Today was such a tough day – the first day of school. What would have been Christian’s first day of school. Instead Chris went to work in his new classroom directly across from the kindergarten class. And I spent the day replaying the past two years in my head, feeling like we were living this surreal life. When would I wake up from this nightmare?

August was a month of celebrations, a true testament to the fact that no matter how much we grieve, how much I want to just lay down and die, life moves and I can’t stop it. Ryan celebrated his 3^rd birthday, I can’t get over the fact that he is only four months younger than Christian when he was first diagnosed. Ryan is so clever and big! He is smart and knows how to work his parents! At the same time I see Christians sweetness in him and I know his heart is going to be just as loving. Last night while I lay in bed crying Ryan comes over to the side of the bed and says, “what’s wrong mom? Do you miss Christian?” I love that little man and the squealy laugh you get when you tickle his sides.

First bath with Daddy

We also have a beautiful new baby boy, Joshua Christian, born on August 17^th after four very speedy hours in labour and delivery. He is beautiful and calm in every sense of the word. Chris and I like to say that Christian had a few words with him before he came out and told him that he had to be good to us. I think Joshua is already listening to his big brother. He is an amazing addition to our family and I know how proud Christian is that he carries his name. I look forward to telling Josh all about Christian.

Its difficult to put anything on paper these days. My feelings seem more muddled each day. Despite some serious damage (will spare you the details) I incurred during delivery I can’t sit still. Even lying down with Joshua to feed him usually ends in tears, as it is quiet time that allows my mind to wander, it drifts over to Christian and the events of the past few years. I think grief runs in waves and right now I am fighting to keep to my head above water. I pray to God that He will sustain us while we learn to live again.

Today I am thankful for:

1.The videos of Christian on my phone that I can watch anytime

2. Joshua Christian Crowell

3.Evelyn and Ryan playing together, dressing up in princess dresses together and Evelyn binding his feet together with a skipping rope and pulling him behind her in the ride of car.

 

A letter from Heaven

Dear Mommy

There are so many things I want to tell you, so many things that I now know and understand. Mostly I want to tell you how much I love you. Before I got sick and came to heaven I told you all the time that I loved you, I was zealous about my family and the love I felt for everybody around me. I wanted to make sure you remembered me saying it to you. “I love you mommy, I love you more mommy, I love to you Hoth and back”.  I know you miss me, I know you sit at night when you are alone and cry. I know that you dwell on my most difficult days in the hospital, the days I was so sick and the days you couldn’t take away my pain. But there is something so very important I want you to know. I don’t think about those days. They are done, gone and over and I want them to be over for you too. I know it’s hard to think of me crying and screaming in pain but I have won the battle and I now live amongst the most amazing glory that you could never imagine but will see one day.

When you are feeling such despair I want to you to try and remember our best times together. The nights we cuddled in bed, the nights we fell asleep with our heads together, the giggles and laughs we shared. The nights you spent “counting my back”, the baths we took at midnight, the hours we read my favorite books and watching my favorite movies over and over and over again. I want you to think of the dance parties we had in our living room and the fun we had at the park. The afternoons we went swimming and the midnight games of Yahtzee. These are the moments to relish, the love we shared and felt, the bond of a mommy and her son. Even though I am not with you in the physical sense I am always walking, sitting, lying and watching over you. I never want you to regret any decisions you and daddy made for me or didn’t make for me. Everything turns out the way God intended and you must trust this. Never feel sorrow for times we didn’t share together because soon we will be together in paradise, forever!

I speak to you through my soul because the English language doesn’t have the words to describe the awesomeness, the beauty, the glory, the fullness and magnificence of heaven. I will never leave you, my spirit and soul walk with you always, and when you are most sad, inconsolable and full of despair – feel me crawl up into your lap and wrap my arms around your neck. Incessantly kissing your cheek like I used to when you were heartbroken – you know it made me sad to see you upset and full of misery.

I wish that I could release you from the trauma of the past few years. I know it has been difficult for our whole family. Now is the time to trust in the plans that God has chosen for us. I see and understand everything; it is understandably unbearable for those of you left behind. Those of you who don’t get to see what I see, who don’t know what I now know. But you can trust in the Lord and know that His plan is perfect. If you had the option to see things in reverse you would understand but your faith will have to guide you through.

Never stop talking to me because I am always listening. I am so excited about our new baby. I am excited to be a big brother again even though they will never know me in the way Ryan and Evelyn did. I want peace and calm in your heart. I want to see you shine like you used too, to not be afraid to step out onto the ledge and go for the desires and dreams God has put in your heart. Mostly mommy never ever forget how much I love you and how special you are. You were the best mommy for me and you made my short life so very special.

Love Christian

Relay for LIfe

Dear Christian

Good afternoon beautiful. It is such a gorgeous sunny day in Truro, I can’t help but feel a little sad when I think of the things you would have loved to have done on a day such as this. Golfing with daddy, heading to the park to throw rocks and play or just jumping on the trampoline in the back yard. You are constantly on my mind and I wonder on an hourly basis if things will ever change, will I ever stop missing you?

Friday night your nanny organized a team to participate in the relay for life, in your honor. She did such an amazing job bringing awareness to pediatric cancer. All of your aunties where there to walk in your honor. We cried a lot and thought of you constantly. I am so proud of all that accomplished in your short life, I am so proud of all the lessons you taught others about perseverance and joy. I feel so blessed to be your mom and I am making a huge effort to accept that your time on earth was so full and you truly lived and loved as much as an adult would. My thoughts have shifted lately to trying to figure out what is was you taught me over these past few years. I know I have doubted many times my ability to love and be loved and I think that you smashed that out of the water. I could never imagine loving somebody as much as I have loved you. There is nothing on earth that I wouldn’t have done for you. Ultimately in ends up that the one thing that I had to do for you was something that I didn’t want to do – I had to give you up. I was forced to reconcile you back to God, the creator and perfector of everything. For in Him I trust that you are safe and healed. In Him I trust that you are beyond happy and at peace.  Lately my memories bring me back to your last few days on earth. I think about the love and peace that your daddy and I felt for you. And understanding what I now know, I can feel peace thinking that the two days you spent ‘unconscious’ you where being ministered to by God Himself. That He was showing you how amazing heaven was, how much love you would feel and how free your body would be. I know you were not afraid to die and that God allowed your body to hold on so that daddy and I could be as ready as possible to let you go. If there is one thing that I would love to give you it would be a life free from the pain you knew so well. It would be freedom from the limitations and frustrations we experienced. And now you have this gift and my pathetic understandings of our earthly time don’t allow me to fully grasp your situation. That God has set us up to spend eternity together. And these days, weeks and months that I have spent crying and moaning your loss will seem like spit in the wind when we are finally reunited.

Evelyn and Ryan still talk about you lots. We always say hi and “I love you” when we look to the moon and the stars. I am grateful their pain is different and they don’t spend their days wishing things away. I am so thankful that they, like you, constantly seek joy and fun. That they put smiles on our faces and remind us of you on a daily basis.  Ryan is such a busy two year old and is in constant need of somebody to play with. He loves hockey almost as much as you loved Star Wars and anybody who plays with him becomes his new best friend. Evelyn is a beautiful and gentle soul who quietly misses you but never says much about it. She enjoys being with Ryan and staying busy with her stuffies. Please continue to watch over us and help us to understand you are near. I love you to Hoth and backJ

Love Mommy

Daddy and Ryan on the beach in NS

One way ticket

Dear Christian

Tonight as I lay in bed with Ryan we talked about you in heaven. He told me that you were coming back. But I told him that once you went to heaven you couldn’t come back, you stayed there with Jesus forever. He said we could take a plane and go and visit you but if we couldn’t come back then I had to go with him. Oh how I wish that was true, that I could jump on a plane and six hours later hold you in my arms. But the distance between us is so much greater, yet I know we are closer. The honest part of me has to admit that I just don’t believe it. Where others grieving see clouds and butterflies to remind them about their missing angels, I don’t see anything. I don’t see your face except in weird random dreams, so frantic to see your face that I try desperately to go back to sleep to try and experience it again. Every now and then I will feel a cool breeze come over me, like I did almost on a nightly basis in the hospital before you died. Or the other day I could smell the plastic from your GT while Evan and I were at the swimming pool, at first I was mad because I didn’t want to remember that part of your journey. But the smell seemed to follow me throughout the day and I did feel as thought you were walking with me but then I haven’t smelled it again.

Love the look on his face - so beautiful

Parts of me are already starting to forget what normal life was like with you. I guess we didn’t have much of a normal life, racing to the hospital in the middle of the night, constantly fretting over fevers and medications, watching every pound you lost or gained and praying for the day that ‘normal’ would crawl back into our home. I am worried that I will start to forget how you felt in my arms, what your voice sounded like asking me for food, and how you looked when you slept beside. I will never forget the feel of your leg over mine as slept, you rubbing my face with your skinny little hands and the way you made your brother and sister laugh with your silly faces and antics. Something’s in this world are priceless and unforgettable and you my sweet boy are one of those things.

There are so many great things about your brother and sister that make me smile; Evelyn is constantly meowing like a kitty cat (especially first thing in the morning), Ryan has taken to rubbing my arm and telling me he loves me. They love to make each other laugh (that is when Ryan isn’t screaming at her or biting her!) and truly love and protect each other. Ryan talks so much and is so busy I know that he would have been driving you crazy in all of your Star Wars toys and messing up your stuff. He pretends to be Darth Maul all the time and I think you two would have had many Star Wars light saber duels in his room. I miss you. There is nothing else to say but I miss you.

Everyday my prayer is, “God help me”. There are no other words I can utter or moan but I feel peace knowing He hears me. People you say, “oh you must be so strong, I couldn’t do what you have done”. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Your daddy and I do what we are doing because we don’t have any other choice. Just like the seven other parents whose baby died from cancer today and the seven other children who will die tomorrow from cancer. To lay down and die, to not get out of bed, to walk around in a coma, to turn my back on Ryan and Evelyn these are not options, they are things made for movies – not real life. The real answer is that God sustains us when we are not sustainable and He carries us when we cannot walk. There is and never will be an answer to why you are gone, there is only faith that God has you wrapped safely in his arms. My faith tells me that one day I will see you again but this day will be the beginning of forever in paradise. Save a place for me.

Nova Scotia

Dear Christian

i will forever miss that joy in your face....

It seems as though it has been a long time since I have sat down and written you a letter. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say to you; sometimes I think I can’t handle the pain of missing you. The writing of letters to you always ends with me in sobbing and painfully trying to hold myself together. So perhaps instead of lamenting over my broken heart and the missing you so much that I want to vomit, I will tell you about how much fun your brother and sister are having in Nova Scotia. It has been difficult being here without you. Every house, every person, every park, every smell and sight bears a memory of you. To this end I am forever grateful for Evelyn and Ryan and their uncanny ability to always find fun and laughter. Daily, if not hourly, they make your daddy and I smile. Tonight in the car ride back from Nanny’s house Evelyn was telling knock knock jokes (which was of course your deal first – she learned from the best!) When she was done with her joke she looked over at Ryan and said, “ok its your turn to make me laugh now!”  

Ryan or ‘George’ as Rod as so aptly named him is absolutely loving being out at Nanny’s house. He is walking in your footsteps with his love of the dogs, his desire to ride on anything motorized and of course his endless pursuit to find somebody to play hockey with. Tonight Ryan and Daddy spent some time out on the grass in the back yard hitting the golf clubs. I know you were standing with them, I know you watch over your little brother and sister. Most days when I find myself in tears and having a pity party my belly starts to roll over onto itself and I like to think that you are telling the baby to give me a literal kick in the arse. I find comfort in knowing how close you are to your new sibling. How you can explain God to them, share love with them, and that they will in fact know their older brother in a way nobody else does.

We have spent a little bit of time at the parks but the weather has been so cold. I haven’t been able to take myself to the trails at Victoria Park where I spent almost every day last summer. I spent almost every minute of my runs and walks thinking about you and praying for you. And now I fear that the memories of you would haunt my time there. That being said I know how much you desire for me to be happy and at peace. I will try my best to go and walk and be with you and God and nature and everything that ever lead me to that park in the first place.

Evelyn loves playing in ‘her room’ at nanny’s house. They like to pull out your Star Wars tent and play inside together. How my heart aches with you not inside the tent with them. There have been no light saber battles and I worry that nobody will ever be able to teach Ryan as much about Star Wars like you would have been able to. I find myself constantly turning over Nanny’s pictures of you in her house because I can’t bear to see your sweet face constantly staring back at me. I feel your presence so strongly in her house and I know it was a place you loved to be, you felt at home, you felt normal and I know that Evelyn and Ryan feel the same.

Well sweet heart I cannot write anymore this evening. Please know I think about you almost every minute of everyday. My silent pain is constantly in the pit of my stomach and I find peace only in thinking of you in heaven, watching over us. I love you so much. And like Evelyn says, I love you to the clouds and back.

Mommy

Save a place for me

I am a grieving mother. We are the family that other things happen to, you know, you see it on television or hear about it in the news but it doesn’t happen to normal people. I am sitting here on my bed in Nova Scotia, one of Christian’s most favorite places to be. The place he had so many firsts, so many great days, so many great memories. Last summer was glorious and liberating for Christian, as he really became a young boy with the ability and desire to do all the things a five year old wants to do. And now all the things that never will be again surround me and my heart and soul feel as though they have been ripped from my body and the rest of me has been dropped in a deep well. There are many dark and secret things that a grieving mother and father never want to say out loud. Sometimes not even to each other. Mostly out of fear, fear of what other people will think, fear that somebody will want to check me into a hospital because they think I am suicidal but mostly just the fear that nobody will ever understand the pain grieving parents experience on a daily, hourly and minute by minute basis.

It is a horrifying experience to watch your child suffer through years of trauma, pain, surgery’s, disappointment, sickness, limitations, anxiety and the inexplicable emotional nightmares. It almost haunts me more than watching him suffer through his last breaths. Thinking today about the extended time he spent in the ICU intubated, I want to be sick to my stomach when I remembered the moment I saw tears coming down his eyes and we were desperately trying to figure out what was wrong without him being able to verbalize it because of his breathing tube. Finally I asked him if he needed a cuddle and he shakes his head, “Yes”. Forgetting that for the past 10 months he hadn’t gone a day or more likely an hour without cuddling us and here he had being in this ICU for almost a week without our touch beside him, my arms around him and his head on my chest. Moms and dads,are the gentle and ‘safe’ person for their children, we are the oncology ward specialists. We are the ones to administer the needles, change the dressings, calm the fears, hold the barf bucket, try to stave off the fear we see mounting in their eyes, attempt to answer the questions to which there are no answers. “Mommy, when will all this cancer business be over?” I wish I didn’t have the answer to this last question of his, but his physical battle with cancer ended on January 14 of 2013 and I fear that the emotional scars of these past two years will last until I am lowered into the ground myself. We have seen things that I will never be able to describe to another person unless they walk their child into the same unit and experience the same level of fear and torment. I do not blame anyone for not wanting to walk in these shoes, I don’t want to walk in them and I wish I could say, “thank goodness that is not happening to us, we are so blessed.”

What most people don’t see about the grieving process are the heart wrenching moments you would imagine a brokenhearted parent would have. The moments we hide away in a dark room and behind closed doors where nobody can see. Today I was reduced to absolute sobbing as I drove away from the golf course where I had dropped Chris off to play a round, a round of golf that didn’t get to happen for Christian. There will be no celebration round for him this year at the Truro Golf Club, at least not one here on earth. But the sight of Christian's beloved Eagle head cover on Chris’ driver was more than my heart could tolerate. I tried to keep my eyes opened as I drove down the street, cognizant of the groans escaping my lips and tears covering my face. You don’t see the times I hide in the bathroom stall silently balling or covering my mouth with my sweatshirt, hoping that the person next door won’t hear the intermittent sobs. Fits of anguish brought on by the slightest mention of a word; hospital, surgery, Star Wars and Hero Factory to mention just a few. The sight of siblings playing together and enjoying being ‘friends’ reminds me of what Evelyn and Ryan lost in their big brother going to heaven.

Most people wouldn’t understand the deep anger that rises at the most inexplicable times. Its not rational but it happens. Watching people with their children (usually somebody Christian’s age) and wanting to jump up in a rage and ask why they get to keep their son and I had to give mine back. How is it possible that everybody else’s world seems to keep moving forward and I am stuck here at the bottom of this well? How is it that time has not stopped to allow me to grieve? Don’t people know the pain in my heart? A pain so real and tangible that it takes my breath away and drops me to my knees. I want to grab people by the shirt and yell, “Don’t you know?” ............ ??????  I can hear the whispers of people so desperate for us to be “better”. Not because they are want us to “move on” but because they love us so much. Yet I am fairly sure that I will carry this intense pain in my chest for the rest of my life. Some days I feel ‘fine’ then a moment will bring Christian to the forefront of my brain, a word he would have spoken, a song he loved and I can feel that deep intense pain begin to rise out of my stomach, my chin begins to quiver and my face tries to turn away the tears, but they come. And they come with such intensity and ferocity that I am reminded about how deeply he touched me, how deeply he has affected my heart and how his struggles over these past few years have tattooed themselves on my soul. I cannot wash them off; I cannot cover them with another person’s love, a new baby does not fade them. They are there permanently to remind me.

I don’t think I will ever be “better” but I will learn how to survive, smile, enjoy my days with my children, spend quality time with my husband, laugh and remember Christian fondly; yet I know the concentrated torment deep down inside of me will never go away because nobody ever ‘gets over’ the loss of a child. There are many days I think about dying. I wish I could die, not because I don’t want to live but because my desire to be with Christian is so powerful. I can only imagine the glory that he lives amongst and I am anxious to share that with my family. I am anxious to see heaven and the “place that has been prepared” for me. I read the book called “ Heaven is for real – for kids” and it gives descriptions of what the little boy saw when he entered heaven, then it gave scripture to support what he was seeing. One of the last pages describes a little golden chair that was brought for him so that he could sit right beside the Father. This picture brings me a lot of peace as I know that Christian’s rightful home is with his heavenly father, just five years, four months, and eight days after he became mine – I gave him back.  I know this was God’s plan for him and our family. 

I can accept and try to trust in what has been given to me, but it is an endless project that will never be done. A bridge whose completion date is unknown and will forevermore need repair. I am perpetually grateful for Evelyn and Ryan, who speak Christian’s name freely. Who don’t worry about what I will say or do if they ask a question about him. Who could never understand how much comfort and sanity it brings me to hear them talk about Christian like he is still around us. They speak his name with pride that only a big brother can earn. Christian. Most people are afraid to say it, fearing the response it will bring. And they are right; sometimes the memory or statement is painful but never more painful than pretending he didn’t exist. Never more painful than not validating his courageous battle. Never more painful than pretending I only have two children now instead of three. Never more painful than when I say his name and people turn their eyes away because they just don’t know what to say.

I remember when we first learned of Christian’s relapse in the summer of 2012. I sat across from a dear friend who had just heard the exact same news. We held hands tightly and I asked her, “How does a person live the rest of their lives missing someone?” Well I am now immersed in that life and it is more painful and appalling than I could have fathomed.

Beaches of Nova Scotia

Bits of sunshine come into my day, rays of hope find their way to my innermost pain. I feel Christian speaking to me when I am most sad and despondent. He speaks to me then because it is exactly what he would have done had he been here with me now. He would crawl up into my lap and wrap his skinny arms around my neck and tell me that everything is ok. When I can feel the intense pain rising inside me I scream out to God, “Please help me”. And I know He is. I know His plan for our little family seems crazy, unfair, unjust, and wrong. But I do know for sure that God has opened his hands around my secure little world and allowed various things to happen, but not to punish me or teach me but because it is what is best for us.

My very good friend explained it like we are rowing in little dinghy’s lost out at sea, and a yacht glides by our ever waning little row boat as we struggle with the oars. Wouldn’t we all as parents throw our children to the safety of the boat above and yell out that we will join them soon? I am 100% sure Christian is enjoying his time aboard God’s yacht, while we painfully row our little boat out in the sea and wait to see what He has in store for us. I know He will calm our seas, walk out to meet us and pull us ashore when the time is right. Until then I know that Christian is in the hot tub on the top deck basking in the glory around him, saving a place for me.

Mothers Day

How we spent our last mothers day together.... 

Dear Christian

“Happy Mothers day” – I can hear this whispered in my ear this morning. I know you would have rolled over and rubbed my face and told me how much you loved me. I sat in your room tonight and tried to take in all of your toys and things that you loved. I just about pulled out your drawer of Star Wars guys, I can hear you asking me if I want to play with you. I wish I knew which guns went with which guy and whose light sabers was whose, I felt some sadness realizing that nobody will love your Star Wars toys with as much care and concern as you did.

I sit with Evan on my bed and watch her moving around and playing. She has so many of your facial characteristics – I look at her and Ryan and imagine you beside them. I really don’t know what to say to you today but I know in two days time you will have been gone from me for four months. Four months of the worst days of my life. I am so grateful for Ryan and Evelyn who keep me going and constantly bring smiles to my face. This kind of grief is very lonely and isolating. I cannot possibly describe to someone else the kind of pain I feel. By the grace of God the instances of intense pain have lessened but it seems that when it hits me I can barely breath. The air catches in my throat and I can’t speak. When I speak to people about you or even try to speak your name it is just like you left me yesterday and the pain comes rushing back to me all over again.

Ryan has come to join us on the bed just as Four Square comes on Tree House – Ryan looks over at me and says, “look mommy, its your favorite show!” He knows how much fun you had teasing me about those silly men in their blue tights and its like he is making sure I don’t forget. In two days we leave for Nova Scotia and I wonder if it will bring up a whole new world of emotion. I have never once in the last five years gone there without you, I have never walked through the gates at the airport without your excited little face leading the way. How will I walk thru the doors without you? Truro was one of your most favorite places and I know that every park, store, playground and loving family member will hold cherished but painful memories of your amazing little spirit. I pray for peace and God’s grace as we go to remember you in our Eastern home. I know you will not leave us as we travel and I pray I can remember to be still and wait to enjoy your presence. I love you so much and miss you like crazy on a day that you would have wanted me to feel so special.

A kiss for you today

See you in my dreams,

Mommy