Today marks one year from the day Lincoln passed away. The day where our lives not only changed forever, but when we changed too. We see the world through a different set of eyes and try so hard to appreciate each and every day we have.
He left us way too soon. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I had so many things I wanted to do with him.
A few days ago I had an experience, where I was able to sit across from some incredible parents, who have a 10 year old with special needs and have advocated for him in ways I can hardly imagine. They have fought long and hard for what they believe in. I was able to share a little bit about Lincoln and I told them I would have done the same thing for my son, as they have done for theirs. The mom got tears in her eyes and she said, "These children are unexpected gifts".
Lincoln was exactly that- an unexpected gift from God. He let us 'borrow' him for just a little while, but the impression he made will last a lifetime. He helped me become a better mother, and a better therapist. I now can work with these families and say to them, "I get it. I know just how you feel". Lincoln also gave us the gift to see how precious life is. He taught us so many things that we wouldn't have been able to learn anywhere else.
Some of you may be following 'Mitchell's Journey' Facebook page. Mitchell was 10 years old and passed away just a few days ago. His father is a fantastic writer, and has shared so many wonderful thoughts that I relate so well to. I wanted to share of few on here:
I admit the burden of losing my precious son has my knees trembling and hands shaking and my soul in tremendous pain. There exists no word in the human language to describe this pain. It is simply, utterly, bewilderingly heavy. But, like all suffering, the sting of that pain can make way to a deeper compassion toward others, a greater capacity to love, a stronger desire to reach toward God and understand His purposes.
The truth is we are [all of us] no different than these two little boys. We are all made of clay. And with each choice we make, each reaction to events in our life, we carve out something beautiful or something hideous – something that loves or hates. We need only look at our own life experience to know this is true … we have all seen some let the clay in their hearts harden and become brittle or unmovable. Others allow the tears of suffering to keep their clay soft and pliable.
Today my clay is soggy. But the tears will eventually dry and I will do all that I can to remain pliable.
........ Somewhere on the other side of this hell is the Heavenly promise of peace and reunion – but that’s a lifetime away and [learning to cope with] death and separation from our young boy who [wanted] so much to live, cuts us deeply. It’s easy to talk of God and life after death in Sunday school, but to come face to face with it is breathtaking.
But alas, we are grateful to know there is life after life ... and we have seen tender mercies in our family, even in the midst of our pain. While there are many today who have abandoned belief in God, we stand resolute … with an absolute knowledge of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. We have seen Him work in our lives; warning us, preparing us, and lifting us when we hardly have the strength to stand. We remain grateful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ and its healing, transcendent power. As C.S. Lewis once said of suffering, “Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even [agony] into [glory].” This we know.
As we process all that is happening and the tender pains of losing our precious child, we have felt a quiet whisper that Mitchell was never really ours in the first place, but he is on loan to us from the Father of us all. He, like each of us, will return to Heavenly Father with a perfectly executed life experience filled with hardship and happiness; all designed to refine our souls for greater purposes.
Our hearts are heavy with sorrow, but filled with gratitude and peace. Mitchell's Journey is not over: it has only just begun ... in this life and the life after.
It's painful to think it's been an entire year since I held him and kissed him and heard his sweet laughter. There are no words to describe our pain. And so all we can do is continue to 'spin' our pinwheels through life, looking for ways to serve others, as Lincoln so willingly and selflessly served and taught us. I can't think of a better way to honor his life then to give back the incredible unexpected gifts that he gave us. We love you Lincoln, to the moon and back!
Thank you for allowing me, a stranger, to read your beautiful words. I haven't experienced the loss of a child. I have my own sorrows, but this particular experience is not one I've had, and hopefully never will. Reading your words reminds me that we never know what others are experiencing, their sorrows, the wisdom they've gained. You see how Lincoln has touched even me, a total stranger? His story and the love I read of his parents and his loving sister cause me to be more patient with people when I'm in line and I'm in a hurry. Who knows what that slow or seemingly rude person is dealing with today? I can pause and be kind. Thank you. Lincoln will not be forgotten.
ReplyDeleteLove to you!!!
ReplyDeleteI think about you and your sweet family often. Every time I see a pinwheel I think of Lincoln. Love you!
ReplyDeleteOh I am thinking of you with a tender heart. Pinwheels are such a sweet reminder to me that heaven is close... love you.
ReplyDeleteWow...such powerful words.
ReplyDeleteI was thinking the other day about how hard Bridger has to work to learn how to nurse, hold his head up, grab my finger, do pretty much anything. And then I realized Nick had to work that much harder and still does. Can you imagine that work ethic on the other side with a perfected body?! I can't wait to see these boys in their perfected state. I am in awe of who they are here. I can't even begin to imagine what they are capable of there.
ReplyDeleteI hate that you have to go through this Joie, but I love that you are choosing to share your feelings and experiences.