Day 59: It is Stories Week and the story for today is a story I wish I didn’t know.
Midday today begins River’s Leap Day on my calendar. You can read the long explanation for my calendar manipulation here.
Two years ago today, my dear friend lost her almost-three-year-old son to leukemia. Their family had only one furious and ferocious month from diagnosis to his death. It was terrifying, not knowing what to do or what to say or how to be of help. My heart broke for them. It still does.
Little did I know, that 17 months later, my son and daughter-in-law would lose a little boy, too. Circumstances were different. The thief was anencephaly, rather than leukemia. Instead of a month-long fight, they had one week of realization and resignation. Our little William only lived 90 minutes, but 90 miraculous minutes we will ever be grateful to have had with him.
Even though William was tiny, his features were perfect. It was obvious that he looked like his big brother, Oliver, who has wavy pale blond hair and the most mischievous twinkle in his eye you’ve ever seen, so this is how I’ve come to imagine what William looks like in heaven.
River and Will, these two angel boys, with unruly blonde hair and twinkling eyes, I’m sure must be buddies in heaven. They both had loved ones who had preceded them in death—loved ones who were waiting to welcome them. I feel certain both boys were swept up in arms full of love at their arrivals. But sometimes I imagine that River was there, after the hoopla, standing at the back of the crowd, waiting to catch Will’s eye and wave him over. I imagine River taking Will under his arm and teaching him the ropes, and showing him the cool places only little angel boys could truly appreciate. That may not be how it is at all, but that is what I choose to imagine.
The other day, my daughter-in-law was wearing a tee shirt that said “There’s More to My Story” and right when I saw it, I thought, how true! There is always more to a person’s story. Always. But then I read the small line beneath it. It read “Mama to an Angel.” Tears filled my eyes, because that sentence is a huge story changer for her.
For my friend and my daughter-in-law, and every woman who has lost a child, their story is changed forever, because for the rest of their earthly days, part of their heart is roaming the halls of heaven with those angel kids. The way they think, the way they pray, the decisions they make, the way they look at life back here on earth . . . all of it is changed, because one of their children is there. Death doesn’t stop a mother from mothering. It doesn’t stop a father. I now know from experience that it doesn’t stop a grandma or a grandpa, either. Those bonds cannot be severed by death.
It may be a story changer . . . but it is not how the story ends. #MomsCompanyTowels #Moretothestory #mamatoanangel #grandmatoanangel #thisisnothowthestoryends
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