Tag: Grief

A Letter To Heaven

Hey Gramps,

I am not sure why I am writing this, except I want to wish you a Happy Birthday. Since you have been gone for 10 years that probably sounds a bit strange…but I was thinking about you and so here I am, writing you a letter in heaven.

I am not exactly sure how it got to be 10 years that you have been gone. Time passes so swiftly sometimes. It seems like just yesterday that I was summoned to your bedside for the 600th time with their claim would be the last time. If they used pictures in the dictionary, I am sure yours would be the one they put under the word survivor.

You were a lot of things to a lot of people. To me you were my everything. You and Grandma. You were a man of insurmountable love, a thinker, a reader, a listener and one of the best huggers I have ever met in my life. Your hugs could cure a broken heart, heal all wounds, and make anyone feel like they were on top of the world.

So, maybe I do know why I am writing this and probably you do too. Today it is your birthday. Today is also the day that MacD had chosen to have his baby. They gave him a window of time and he chose this day. Because of you. He remembers your hugs and he adores/worships/loves Grandma and wanted to honor you. After you were gone, when MacD turned 18 he had deep and serious discussion with Grandma about legally changing his last name to yours. He wanted you to have little baby boys to carry on your name directly. That is how much he loved and respected you.

So, back to the why am I writing you. The truth is I am thinking of you. Quite a bit lately. I’ve wanted to call you. Chat some and ask you a bunch of questions about something I am doing right now that I know you are an expert in. But I can’t call you. And today should have been Collin’s birthday instead of 8/9.

I know you are there with Collin. I am quite confident that you are taking excellent care of him. But I wanted to ask favor from you for this silly, mortal soul on earth. I want Collin to know how much he is loved, missed, and mourned. Just like you are. I want, no I need, you to give him one of your hugs. Your love-filled,  full-force, manly hugs. Tell him I told you to do it. Because a hug from you embodies all the love I ever felt for my babies and for my grandbabies. And if I could give Collin one gift, it would be the gift of a real hug. A farkle family hug. The kind of hug that makes the worst things in life go away for a moment because of the real, abiding, and deep love that is our family. You were really, really good at those kind of hugs. So give him one from me. And then go celebrate your ‘earth’ birthday, tuck him under your arm, and share with him our love.

Shattered

I kneel before him and he stares at me with that puppy dog look I recognize since he was a boy. In his eyes I can see deep into his soul. I can hear his voice in my head. I lock my eyes to his and say out loud, “Yes you can. You can do it.” He shakes his head a bit, side to side. “No, I can’t”

I hold her hand tightly as she sobs. “I am so sorry”, she says. To herself, to him, to me, to the world. “No”, I say. “This is not your fault.” In her eyes I see her soul and in my head I hear her voice. “No”, I say again. “It is not your fault.”

Bear returns home that evening from their apartment. She weeps gently and tells me she got it all cleaned. “But there was so much blood, Mom.” She tells me God hates us. She tells me He does not deserve Collin. “No one. No one deserves that baby more than MacDougal.” I am silent.

The next morning I watch the sun rise. The day dawns as I weep. I see Him there, in the mix of light and dark. My soul reflects from His eyes. I can tell He hears my voice in His head, asking one thousand variants of “How can I…..?”. “You can”, He says. But I don’t think I believe it.

I Can't Breathe

But you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable,
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe ~ Anna Nalick, 2 am

Yesterday afternoon Funsize began bleeding. 911 was summoned and after an emergency c-section and 30 minutes of valiant effort by the doctors, my beloved grandson joined God as our angel.

As I held his tiny body with one arm and my grieving son with the other, I was seized by panic that for the first time in my life I am unable to make things better. I whispered in their ears my love for them, their beauty, their perfection. He was lovely. And perfect. Perfectly lovely.

I am broken. The pain is physical and grips me. Unable to cry, I stand by silently as I watch my son’s heart shatter into millions of icy, sharp, hard shards.

I cry now, at 4am and am unable to stop. Please keep Funsize and MacDougal in your hearts and prayers.

Collin Michael

5 lb 1 oz., 17.25″

Born 8/9/08, in our hearts forever.

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