I feel the need to express my thoughts with more clarity tonight, but my brain is more content to be swirling with warm memories of my nephew, Will. Honestly, I almost don't want to let myself 'go there.' I just want to stay with the warm thoughts of holding him, bathing him, staring into his eyes...I promised myself that I would take tomorrow to do just that. Pour over pictures and write out the details of my memories so I can re-live the joy again. The joy of knowing a little boy who changed my view of everything.
So, tomorrow I will celebrate and remember and sing. Tonight, I want to let the walls down so I can feel everything...to kind of wade through and acknowledge some of the ache so I can more fully feel the warmth of the joy and beauty, as well.
For weeks, these tiny snippets of this evening, last year have been flashing in my mind. I've been avoiding it. I look for a second, then try to distract myself--afraid I'll lose my composure out in public. Afraid I'll remember all too clearly; the shock, the cries and groans and petitions made, burying my face in the carpet, begging for it not to be true, hours passing with no news, running out of questions and words for God, the phone ringing again. Most frequently, I remember hearing myself cry out as I hung up the phone and collapsed onto the tile.
Looking back, I can see there must have been some imperceptible showering of grace in the hours that followed, because I was able to compose the following email a few hours later.
Friends,
I've been trying to write this message, and can't seem to start. I
hope you will all forgive me for the method in which I need to share
this news. I physically can't say the words, so today I'm glad for
email.
My nephew, Will, passed away early this morning.
I just can't believe it. I thought he was doing so well. My brother
was with him at the heart and kidney unit getting prepped for a heart
cath that was supposed to happen today. His next heart surgery was
fast approaching, so they were getting all the necessary tests under
way. But, this morning, his heart stopped and they couldn't get it
going again. After four months and three days of fighting, his heart
just stopped.
Many of you know that I was so blessed about a month ago to spend
a week with my family in D.C. My time spent there with Will and Ella
was more meaningful than I could have imagined.
Today, I just keep thanking God that I was able to have that time.
Time to help bathe him.
Time to clean his bottles.
Time to read books.
Time to see him snuggle with the bear I had made.
Time to take pictures (that annoying camera-happy AuntPammy).
Time to ride along on a journey to the hospital for a doctor's appointment--tubes,
oxygen, heart monitor and all .
Time to pat him up on his shoulder, just the way he liked (one rhythmic finger),
when he needed to be comforted.
Time to stare into his eyes and have him stare back at me.
Time to hold him high on my shoulder and feel his heartbeat and his chest rise with every breath.
Knowing Will blessed me.
Somehow, when Will looked at me, watched me walk by him or try to comfort him,
I felt like he really saw me. Will heard me talk to him and pray for
him. Sing to him and cry with him.
I don't know when my sobbing will stop. Or when it's going to hit
me even harder. Maybe it's the lack of sleep talking, or maybe I'll
change my mind, but today I'm just sad, not angry, that he had to
leave so soon. Selfishly, I want him with us, but after watching how
much work his tiny body had to do to keep that blood flowing, I almost
understand. Deep down, I know that my time with Will taught me so
much more than I could have taught him. We shared much more than I
could share in an email.
So, I'll close with this: It occurred to me (around 4a.m.) that my
prayers for Will and Ella have changed a lot over the past 9 months.
"Just let the twins be born. I just want to meet them." "Please,
God, let me hold them." "Please, let me know them." And although,
Will didn't make it last night, I can see that God answered all of
those requests: I met the twins shortly after they were born on May
9th, 2006.
I held Ella a few hours later, and I held Will 3 months after that.
I stayed with them for 7 full days...never enough time, but long enough
to never want to leave.
It was long enough to know what Ella's cries
mean and how she likes to be held and consoled.
Long enough to learn how to "read" Will's heart monitor and hear it going off in my sleep.
Long enough to stare into Will's eyes and instantly feel known by him.
Long enough to fall in love with them.
Four months ago today, we learned his name before he went in for his
first heart surgery.
William Addison. Don't you just love it?
Iron Will. Marathon Runner. My tiny little Superhero. And, my
favorite, "God's Will."
And he is God's Will, so I have to trust that this is God's will.
Friends, please pray for Mike, Stacy & Ella. I can only begin to
imagine their grief. Thanks so much for listening.
So, tomorrow I will celebrate and remember and sing. Tonight, I want to let the walls down so I can feel everything...to kind of wade through and acknowledge some of the ache so I can more fully feel the warmth of the joy and beauty, as well.
For weeks, these tiny snippets of this evening, last year have been flashing in my mind. I've been avoiding it. I look for a second, then try to distract myself--afraid I'll lose my composure out in public. Afraid I'll remember all too clearly; the shock, the cries and groans and petitions made, burying my face in the carpet, begging for it not to be true, hours passing with no news, running out of questions and words for God, the phone ringing again. Most frequently, I remember hearing myself cry out as I hung up the phone and collapsed onto the tile.
Looking back, I can see there must have been some imperceptible showering of grace in the hours that followed, because I was able to compose the following email a few hours later.
Friends,
I've been trying to write this message, and can't seem to start. I
hope you will all forgive me for the method in which I need to share
this news. I physically can't say the words, so today I'm glad for
email.
My nephew, Will, passed away early this morning.
I just can't believe it. I thought he was doing so well. My brother
was with him at the heart and kidney unit getting prepped for a heart
cath that was supposed to happen today. His next heart surgery was
fast approaching, so they were getting all the necessary tests under
way. But, this morning, his heart stopped and they couldn't get it
going again. After four months and three days of fighting, his heart
just stopped.
Many of you know that I was so blessed about a month ago to spend
a week with my family in D.C. My time spent there with Will and Ella
was more meaningful than I could have imagined.
Today, I just keep thanking God that I was able to have that time.
Time to help bathe him.
Time to clean his bottles.
Time to read books.
Time to see him snuggle with the bear I had made.
Time to take pictures (that annoying camera-happy AuntPammy).
Time to ride along on a journey to the hospital for a doctor's appointment--tubes,
oxygen, heart monitor and all .
Time to pat him up on his shoulder, just the way he liked (one rhythmic finger),
when he needed to be comforted.
Time to stare into his eyes and have him stare back at me.
Time to hold him high on my shoulder and feel his heartbeat and his chest rise with every breath.
Knowing Will blessed me.
Somehow, when Will looked at me, watched me walk by him or try to comfort him,
I felt like he really saw me. Will heard me talk to him and pray for
him. Sing to him and cry with him.
I don't know when my sobbing will stop. Or when it's going to hit
me even harder. Maybe it's the lack of sleep talking, or maybe I'll
change my mind, but today I'm just sad, not angry, that he had to
leave so soon. Selfishly, I want him with us, but after watching how
much work his tiny body had to do to keep that blood flowing, I almost
understand. Deep down, I know that my time with Will taught me so
much more than I could have taught him. We shared much more than I
could share in an email.
So, I'll close with this: It occurred to me (around 4a.m.) that my
prayers for Will and Ella have changed a lot over the past 9 months.
"Just let the twins be born. I just want to meet them." "Please,
God, let me hold them." "Please, let me know them." And although,
Will didn't make it last night, I can see that God answered all of
those requests: I met the twins shortly after they were born on May
9th, 2006.
I held Ella a few hours later, and I held Will 3 months after that.
I stayed with them for 7 full days...never enough time, but long enough
to never want to leave.
It was long enough to know what Ella's cries
mean and how she likes to be held and consoled.
Long enough to learn how to "read" Will's heart monitor and hear it going off in my sleep.
Long enough to stare into Will's eyes and instantly feel known by him.
Long enough to fall in love with them.
Four months ago today, we learned his name before he went in for his
first heart surgery.
William Addison. Don't you just love it?
Iron Will. Marathon Runner. My tiny little Superhero. And, my
favorite, "God's Will."
And he is God's Will, so I have to trust that this is God's will.
Friends, please pray for Mike, Stacy & Ella. I can only begin to
imagine their grief. Thanks so much for listening.
No comments:
Post a Comment