gifts of life

Emotions are running high today.  The high of being with friends for a few days, the joy of laughter and the

I keep looking for the silver lining.

The silver lining?

closeness of physical presence has dropped.  I am at home with my grief again. Grief tagged along on my weekend retreat and was brought to the surface again and again and again, but now, today I feel the full weight of it.

It seems the  sorrow wants to bury in deep into my core.

I traveled with some beautiful friends to a conference.  We rode together, ate together, roomed together and played together.  There were tears  for various reasons and much laughter.   Women are wonderful, and I am thankful for their friendship.

Thoughts of my son were close all around, but I thought I was safe because there were no triggers in this arena where we gathered.  Foolish thought, little did I know.

While sitting during a break I  decided to check my email on my iphone.  There was the letter from Lifeshare.  It thanked us and praised our son for the gifts his body shared with others.  His heart, kidneys, pancreas, liver and lungs along with his corneas.  Seven lives of people who never knew of him now changed by his death.  My son’s heart still beats, his lungs still breath, eyes now see because of him.

I weep.

Everyone who has received a gift from my son is “doing well.”  Doing well.   I suppose we too are doing as well as can be expected.

There are six children who have their parents with them now because of our son.

There are mother’s who hug their grown children now because of our son.

I wish them long and happy lives.  I wish them joy.   I wish them no harm ever, but I miss and mourn and ache for my son.

I ache for his laugh and his smile, his arms to embrace me, his gentle chiding encouragement.

Perhaps the biggest gift my children have given me is this: that I am a better person because of them.   Their honest faces and expectations of me have brought me up short so many times, and called me to be the person they expect me to be.

I fail, but I would have been a bigger failure were it not for them.

He shared himself in life, and he shared himself in death.   I cannot balance any of this out in any equation.  I am torn apart by the pain and the beauty.

I don’t even know how to talk about it coherently.

Once day we will all be gone from here.  The letter extolling our son’s gifts tucked perhaps in a box for someone to find and wonder over.   There is a certificate, suitable for framing.  I will put it with his diplomas that were never framed because he was not a man to wear his honors on his sleeve.

His life was a gift to me.

About pathfinder

Artist, Writer, Walking wounded.
This entry was posted in Coping with the Death of a Child, Death and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s