Tag Archives: memorial

Saying Goodbye

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I first met W – who for the rest of our time together I’ve lovingly called him Grandpa – at a craft show at the hockey arena.

Grandpa Adams

He and his wife were here visiting, and I was introduced to him by his daughter-in-law, K. She enthusiastically told him, “This is my very best friend”. I was amazed by his woodworking talents. Little did I know how that sweet little old man would come to hold a place in my heart!

After Grandpa moved to Marshall, he took in an interest in his church family and in K & S’s friends. That was extra special for us, because that meant that my children had a grandfather figure when their grandpas lived so far away. Didn’t matter if it was concerts, Boy Scout derbies, sporting events, or 4-H poultry shows even if it was 100 degrees; if he wasn’t busy, he attended.

I am so glad that I got to know him before his memories started to be cloudy and slowly a silent stealer took them away. My place in Grandpa’s life changed at the beginning of this journey. If I told the truth, it was really Grandpa’s place in my life that evolved. See my own grandfather, Papa, went on this same journey of lost memories and passed away just before all these changes happened for Grandpa. They were just a few years apart in age. This was something that wasn’t missed on this girl who no longer had her grandfathers.

Grandpa had a young man that lived with him and one day they had a disagreement. The young man called S (who couldn’t leave work) and K, who also couldn’t leave work, but who in turn called me. Oh my! My instructions were to see if I could calm everyone down. I didn’t know what I was going to do. Then I remembered; I had cookie salad in my fridge. My Tupperware in hand, off I went to diffuse a situation.

Never knowing the real reason for my stopping by and bearing sweets, Grandpa and I became pretty good friends. We visited at church and at “family” functions. As the journey wore on, so did the amount of care that Grandpa needed. One day, S and K asked if I would consider coming a few mornings a week to help provide caregiving.

Enthusiastically, I said yes! It was during this time, that I learned so many things about Grandpa’s life, and I didn’t mind if I heard the story over and over again. Every time, he told the stories his eyes twinkled, and I felt I got to see his heart. A heart that loved God above all, and through that love lavished love on his wife and his children and grandchildren!

After Grandpa moved to the M Manor, I wasn’t done taking care of him. I finagled my way into a volunteer position with our family dog, Huck, visiting residents. This way, I could regularly go see Grandpa and share just a few small moments with him.
There are so many personal memories that I could share, but I will limit it two of my favorites.

Grandpa and I share November birthdays – just three days apart. One year we had our birthday celebration at a local pizza place. We were a little late to arrive as usual. It is dark early in November; so, we could clearly see inside the windows. Grandpa was not “glowing” like a birthday boy should be. When we walked in, Grandpa’s whole demeanor changed. My husband whispered in my ear, “Remember this moment. Right now you are the Belle of the Ball. Look at how his face changed.” I don’t know if you have ever had that experience.  I have only had that moment once before – on my wedding day.

My second favorite memory is from my days of caregiving before Grandpa moved to the Manor. After a few weeks, he asked me if I would have devotions with him. Would I? Absolutely! The next time I arrived, he had his Bible, his devotional, and his prayer book for our church’s active missionaries. Those were some of the most precious times I have ever spent. We took turns reading, praying, and discussing the devotion.

One day, we read a devotional based on Psalm 105: 1-2, which I now think of as Grandpa’s verse.

Oh give thanks to the LORD, call upon His name;
Make known His deeds among the peoples.
2 Sing to Him, sing praises to Him;
[a]Speak of all His [b]wonders. (NASB)

During our discussion, I shared with him that I had a decision to make because I had been recently asked to begin speaking about our family’s story, including our great sadness. As I sat there at the kitchen table with tears streaming down my face, I said that this verse seemed to be confirmation as to what I was supposed to do – even though I was going to have to go way out of my comfort zone at times, leaving my family.

Without missing a beat, after a sip of his tea, he quietly said, “Jesus and I were wondering how long it was going to take you to figure that out.”

For all those who have heard me speak, those marching orders I have never forgotten.

I am so thankful to the family of W for giving me the chance to call him Grandpa. He will be missed until we can have devotions at his table again someday.

How can it be five years? A letter to Reed

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Reed70To my sweet boy –

Reed, I woke up yesterday strangled by my emotions. Before I even lifted my head, I could feel that old familiar ache.  My heart literally hurt.  I longed to just hear your voice, to experience your laughter, to see the world through your beautiful blue eyes.  All the things I get to do with Sawyer, Erin, and Clo and I love each shared memory. Yet, I feel like the whole world can see the hole in my heart whenever I wish I had those moments with you.

Then come other times, when I really am truly happy. I almost surprise myself, because it’s at those times I feel guilty because I wonder if I am ever supposed to be happy again.  Conflicting emotions that don’t mix with what I know to be true.  You would never want us to be forever sad this side of heaven, but more importantly neither would God. Simply, He would want to remind us that this is not our forever home.  It is a lesson that we couldn’t forget if we wanted to, simply because even though we can’t deliver mail there we know your permanent address.

Five years ago, I never thought I would be sitting where I am now.  I want to be getting ready for your second prom, planning your graduation party and trip, and buying all the great things that you would need for college.  It just wasn’t meant to be a part of your story.

Just as grief is now a part of mine.  Heart crushing, sneak up on you when you least expect it, grief.  A pain so deep you never knew your heart had so many crevices and could hurt so badly.

But when things get so painful, I remember a sweet, red-headed boy whose whole life was defined by hope.  Not just a temporary hope. Oh no! A hope rooted in a love greater than any love that I have ever given. Inspirational was a boy who believed that love was greater than hate.  A boy who believed that turning the other cheek wasn’t just a saying. A boy who believed that those who hurt others were hurting themselves taught me a lot in just twelve short years. A deep faith, overflowing with love defined your life.

Sometimes, I think that you knew you were only going to be here for a brief stay.  You did nothing half-way.  You didn’t just read books, you devoured them.  You didn’t just learn something, you consumed it. And, you didn’t just love, you loved with abandon.

It is that hope, love, and faith that has helped us to remember, to cope (and sometimes heal), and to keep alive your legacy.  So that someday, we will all get to meet the ones whose lives your brief life touched.  Standing in the glorious, shining light of heaven, I can only imagine then that it will all make sense.

Waiting to hug you and hold you again, but always carrying you in my heart – Momma

23 days to go: Let their little lights shine

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Some of our ideas come from the heart, but come to our minds in all kinds of places.  So it was with the “Let their little lights shine” luminary service that we have each year.  If you aren’t familiar with the luminaries or the remembrance, then you have missed my most favorite part of the evening.  My heart soars when the luminaries are lit.  The bags are in remembrance of any child who has died.  Each name is said aloud followed by a family member or volunteer placing the bags in the designated area for the evening.

Last year the bags twinkled throughout the outdoor movie.  When I look out at a field of faces at the movie, I am always moved by the faces that are not there, because I know what the bags mean.  Each flicker is a loved one that isn’t here with us enjoying this time.  Our family alone has four of those bags – one for each of our children (Reed and our 3 babies) in heaven.  But also represented by those bags are friends and friends’ children.  Some of those are for children that I deeply miss having at our  lives.

So it was in the summer of 2009 (a few months before the first Reed’s Run) when Erin and I were running in the hospital’s 5k race.  At some point I connected with a mom of young lady who had passed away about 7 months before Reed.  That young lady was Erin’s swim coach who made her feel like she was the most important swimmer in the world.  She encouraged her, challenged her, and supported her.   Erin was only seven years old when she died, and she still has her pictures in her room/  She still dedicates swims for her each year.  She brought so much light to my little girl’s world.

During the race, the mom and I chatted only briefly. All I could think about was how her daughter’s light was extinguished much too early. It hit me that while Reed’s name might be on the event, I wanted it to be a place where all children could be remembered.  I wanted to remember her daughter who meant so much to mine. I know how much candlelight services mean to our family, and that was the idea that popped into my head as I jogged along.  As the concept mulled over in my head, I was committed to having each name read aloud.  Mostly I felt so passionately because after losing a child, one of the greatest fears is no one saying their name again.  I ran across a poem last year that succinctly said what my heart feels regarding Reed.

The mention of my child’s name may bring tears to my eyes,
But it never fails to bring music to my ears.
If you are really my friend,
let me hear the music of her name!
It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul!
~Author Unknown ~

It also explains why the luminaries are my favorite part of the night.  I get to sing to someone else’s soul, and by doing so, it helps my own heal.  In that healing, I carry a little piece of each of their lights with me. With that remembrance, they are never truly forgotten.

Special note: We always have extra bags, candles, and room to add another child to our list.  If you would like a child added to our list, please contact us or come to Reed’s Run where we can provide one for you.  If you would like a child remembered but are unable to attend, simply forward the information to www.reedsrun.com and we will make a luminary for you.