The end of the innocence

Tonight as I was putting my youngest son to bed we followed our usual routine. Brushing your teeth, one last drink of water,  and our nightly prayers. Every night was like this, something we have grown used to doing. Tonight ended differently though. He told me of a classmate that was ill and in the hospital because of "crocs". I wasn't sure what he was trying to tell me and I assumed he meant croup.  We talked about how quickly this sickness came on and then it was time to sleep.

This talk between us kept replaying in my mind, why I wasn't sure.  My husband and I watched tv for a while and then I decided it was my bedtime. I followed my own rituals to prepare for my nights rest.

Lying in bed listening to an audio book, I received an email from the school principal, the subject line said please read for timely and important information.  I opened it.

Reading through the email, it's content was saying how the classmate my son had told me about had been in the hospital over the last few days, I already knew this because of our earlier conversation. It went on to say that his illness had worsened today and that he had been transferred to a children's hospital. From there it said that she was sad to report of this little boys death.

WHAT?? Did I read that right? As I reread that paragrapgh, my heart sunk in my chest. I quickly got up and ran to the other room to tell my husband. We both sat in stunned silence. I could not imagine what these parents are going through? How can they go on.

I googled on how to tell your child a classmate died. The experts say to be honest and factual but not to dwell on the details. This much I already knew. I wanted the words to use, the exact phrase that I needed to tell my son. I couldn't find it. They say it is okay to tell you child you are sad. I think he will know that as tears will be falling from my eyes.

How do you actually do this?  I know that children know about death. But, how do you tell your nine year old child a friend has died? How do you explain that sometimes people get sick and cannot fight off their illness. How do you explain that this is so very uncommon. How do say this cannot happen to them, when you not sure yourself.

How do I end his innocence at such a young age? How do I make him face the mortality of a boy in his class, and then have him question his own?

How do I do this?

Lord, please give me the strength and the words to tell my son of his friends passing. And God, wrap your arms around his parents as they cope with the death of their beloved son. Grant upon them comfort and peace. Welcome this boy home to live with you and your son Jesus Christ.

May the angles welcome you to paradise,  may the martyrs greet you on your way,  may you see the face of the Lord this day,  alleluia,  alleluia.

Rest in peace Patrick.

Amen.

My own Toy Story

I have been putting a specific task aside for over a year now. Ignoring this chore has been hard. Not wanting to take away from  my son anything that he enjoys, I have neglected a certain basket in the corner of his room.

In this one corner of his bedroom is a pile that has grown deeper and taller as time went by. This basket in which the pile has grown contains the fallout of childhood dreams and memories of times gone by.

This is where his toys are kept.

From the must haves, to those passed down from family and friends, birthday gifts to Santa presents. All of these toys have occupied this space for many years. Being a sentimental spirit, each toy must not be given up.  Whether intact or not, each one holds a special place in his heart.

Not wanting to be the one to take his heart apart one bit at a time, I have allowed this to go for far too long. Without him knowing, I have gone through this pile removing items that do not belong there, such as "hidden" tv remote controls, unpaired socks, and markers that no longer color. Other than that, each of his cherished treasures remain where he left them.

As his 11th birthday approached, I had contemplated talking to him about packing up a few of his things to be stored in the basement. Knowing how he reacts to this conversation (we have had it before) I spared myself any ensuing arguements that he has on why his toys should stay put.

On a Saturday afternoon, not long ago, I was cleaning house. I knew that he was busy, but with what I didn't know. As the day wore on, I started cooking dinner. The aromas started to fill the house and he came out to see what was on the menu. As he walked away he asked for a trash bag. I told him sure, hoping he would use it for something productive.

All the sudden I heard a loud clank as something hit the floor. I turned around wondering what in the world was crashing down. I saw the look of pride on his face as he sat down two trash bags and the basket on the kitchen floor. In my mind I knew in an instant what was happening. My sweet, not so little boy decided on his own that it was time for the toys to go.

He said, "Here Mom, here's all my toys. I think I am too old for them now." With that one statement, it was My heart that was being taken apart one bit at a time. "Where do you want them?" I had to clear my throat of emotion, and said, "Put them in the living room for now." 

As he was putting his once treasured belongings in another room, my mind was taking a quick inventory of what could be in those bags. Were his favorite stuffed animals and cars in there?

I heard the sound of the vacuum coming from his room, tearing me away from my reverie. Knowing that he was busy for a few minutes, I peeked inside the bags. 

Seeing his discarded things made me so sad. I wanted to rush back to his room and put everything just the way it was. I knew I could not do that. He was making a statement and I had to respect it.

Instead I grabbed my phone and through my tears I had a long conversation via text with a close friend of mine. I knew she had to have gone through this before, she had two sons that were older than mine. She would understand. A mother's heartbreak cannot be held in secret. It must come out, if not my chest would surely explode. She comiserated with me, knowing just how I felt.

I left those toys in the living room for a week or so. I could not bear to see what he packed away. I wanted to know in my mind, yet I was not sure my heart could withstand it. So, one day while my husband took my two boys out for an afternoon of fun, I sat down and opened the bags. I gently dumped out their contents and slowly made my way through them. Laughing and crying at the same time, I was remembering him playing with each one. As I sat there, I was making piles of my own, what to save and what could be thrown away. When I was done I did have some things to get rid of. As any mom knows, there has to be twice as many broken toys as there are ones intact.

Out of his pile of toys he put into bags, I found yet another "hidden" tv remote, five socks and about a dozen markers that didn't work and enough baseball cards to fill a book.

There are a few things I did sneak back in his room. My heart could not bear to have them packed and put in the basement. Maybe he has seen them, maybe not. If so, he hasn't said a word.

Although these are just his toys, they are my memories of times gone by. Time that I would never get back. Each one holds a picture in my mind of the day he got it. The pure joy of receiving a wish come true, in the form of something tangible that brings that wish to life.

I will always remember this day. The day that he decided he was grown up. The day my heart was taken apart piece by piece.

I will also remember the day my wish came true, something to hold in my hands, the day my son was born.

The last goodbye

Saying goodbye to a loved one on their last day is never easy. This one is more difficult than the others I have experienced. Even the loss of my own father was easier. We knew that his health was on a steady decline. You see, cancer does that to a body. It takes the very core of you and beats it down to almost nothing. If you are lucky, and strong enough to come back from the brink of death, they call you a survivor. If you didn't make it, you were a fighter. But there are those cases in which the body has got such irreversible damage that there is no way to return to the vitality that once consumed you.

In this case it wasn't cancer. It was a horrible lung disease that leaves you weak and fighting for each ragged breath you can drag into your body. This fight is one that my Uncle Howard had to endure.

What if you had given yourself up to doctors who could replace your failing organs? What if you put yourself in the hands of God, and he wants you to come home? What if you and your loved ones had counted on this surgery to restore you to your former self, with just a few minor adjustments...and then it failed?

What do you do?

You resolve yourself to the fact there is nothing else, that the doctors have done all they can. The last ditch efforts have had no effect on your body.

You bravely concede  to fact that you have reached your life's end. You have to reconcile and get yourself right with God. When you leave this Earth and meet your maker, you want all loose ends tied up in a nice bow.

People say that we were lucky because we got to say goodbye. But were we really? Yes we did get to say goodbye,  to tell him how much he is loved. To me that was no consolation. I know that death should be peaceful. I know that he was surrounded by family that adored him. What I saw on his face was fear and sadness. I have never seen these emotions from him. It was gut wrenching because he wasn't done living. There was was so much more to do. He was supposed to grow old with my Aunt Ruth, to finish hope chests for the grandkids, to eat lasagna and watch more Tiger's baseball.

Knowing that his hours were few, he asked for prayers. Something he never really did in public. Prayers were sent up asking for peace upon his soul.

When the time came for the machines to be removed from his body, there were tears and broken hearts. Lots of hand holding and hugs. Although words of comfort were spoken, nothing can or will  heal the emptiness but time.

Each person grieves in thier own way.  Each person deals with the loss differently. Some are ok the next day, some will never get over the hole in their heart.

Saying goodbye to a loved one, to me, is not really a true end. You see, I have faith that being here on Earth is a privilege. That God has given us the freedom to explore this world before returning to him. For this I am grateful. I know that someday my Father will call me home. I understand the circle of life, that we all must die in the end.

I hope that people will talk kindly of me when I am gone. That the lives I have touched are better for me being in them.

Uncle Howard was the most kindest of people with a heart of gold. He would have given you the shirt off his back if you needed it. His smile and sense of humor warm my heart as my memories of him are replayed in my mind.

I hope he knows just how much he meant to so many people.

There will be a day when he is reunited with his loved ones. Until then, I imagine him fishing with old friends, drinking a few beers, and talking baseball with the game's greatest players.

Until we meet again old man, have a cold one for me, tell my dad I said hi, and cheer on the old time players as they gather for a pick-up game.

The mittens

Today I was scrolling through Facebook and I saw them. Something that I have wanted for a long time. I have searched many stores looking for just the right ones, which I could not find. The design was perfect, and practical at the same time. The color choice is endless, and can be embellished to my own liking.

The Mittens.

Gloves never seem to keep me warm enough. I am positive it because my fingers are seperated. They say you are warmer with body heat. It only makes sense to me that if my fingers are together, my hands will be warmer. Maybe I am justifying this much needed piece of winter clothing.

I cannot wait to make these. I know just the color and design I want. A simple design really. Just a beautiful red with an embroidered Christmas tree in white, I will decorate the tree with small colorful buttons for bulbs. And a beautiful silver button for the star. I wish I could thank my grandmother for teaching me the fine art of needlework. I can hear her voice right now, " make sure the back is as neat as the front." I know when they are finished she will be beaming down on me from Heaven.

I guess it is the simple things in life that I love. A pair of mittens to warm the hands will make me happy. How funny that making my own will put a smile on my face.

It's silly, but I am excited about this simple project and cannot wait to hit Goodwill tomorrow to find just the right wool sweater to get started.

I know that the finished mittens will bring me joy...and a warmth that I am looking forward to.

The mittens.

The Wall

Today my family got to experience something that not everyone has the opportunity to see.  We are in Ludington, enjoying the Labor Day weekend. In the square downtown is an attraction that has been up for the last 3 days and 4 nights, guarded by former service men, who are still protecting and serving.

This attraction was the traveling Vietnam War Memorial Wall.  I was humbled to see the names of the 56,286 people that died to preserve the lives of others.  Some may call this a "conflict", all I can say if there are this many fatalities,  it can only be war.

I am glad that my children got to see this wall, to see the names of those who died, to see pictures with the names of people's loved ones who gave their all that were propped against the wall. I hope this image stays with them forever. There is nothing more important than knowing your country's history.

At the closing ceremony a bugler played Taps, it brought tears to my eyes. This was played at my dad's funeral and I cry every time it's played. To see the flag lowered and folded with such reverence,  then presented to an elderly soldier took my breath away.

Thank you to the event coordinators for bringing such a moving tribute to a small town in Michigan.  Thank you to the service men who were there to answer any questions, to help find names of deceased loved ones on the wall, for your support of the deceased soldiers families and to be a source of strength to those who have not yet come to terms with their part in this war.

God bless our soldiers, past, present and future. If it were not for your sacrifices,  there would not be the freedoms that we Americans hold on to so dearly today.

The long weekend

My sister's house in Ludington is like a home away from home for me. It has been for 20 plus years. I know that what is hers is mine. I can be comfortable and help myself to whatever I need.

Since my husband and I have been together, we have vacationed at her home . We are no longer tourists in this quaint little town on Lake Michigan. I like to think of ourselves as part time summer residents.  We know the best places to eat especially Grand Hotel for the wet burritos, Sportsman's Tavern for nachos and MacDonald's Bakery for doughnuts, we have our favorite beach, out at the jetties on the first curve. I have my favorite stores I must to visit when we come to town.

Now that I have children, this is their summer home too. We hang out in the morning before hitting the beach just talking about what is on the agenda for the day. We are free to come and go as we please.  This is nice because we do not feel obligated to stay at the house and she is not pressured to entertain our family.

This weekend has been great. Although my sister and I didn't get to spend much time together, it was nice just to be at her house.

My family spent the afternoon at the lake today. The sun was hot and the water cold. It felt good just to lay on the beach listening to the waves.

I love these little get aways during the summer. I love that we are always welcome to stay at her home. I love Ludington, it is a wonderful place to be.

Thank you Patty!! Love you!

His shoes don't fit anymore

With the new school year upon us, it is time to get new uniforms ready for the boys. The navy pants and light blue oxfords make it easy for getting dressed in the morning.  There are no choices to be made about what to wear. No agonizing over whether your shirt or shoes will be cool enough for your friends. The only thing to worry about is long sleeve or short. I am grateful for this because the boys don't have to worry about fitting in with the crowd. When you are dressed alike, no one can stand out.

Once everything is on hangers in the closet, I can move on to the shoes. It seems these are the most important part of the outfit because this is the opportunity to show a bit of your own personal style while being in dress code. This year they boys chose black instead of brown. This is a huge deal to them because they have always have worn the spiced brown.

Now the fit has to be perfect. The shoes cannot be too loose or they will come off while running around at recess. You see, my boys prefer shoes they can just slip on with ease, tying loose shoelaces actually takes too much time. Those few seconds saved are precious when you are with friends on the playground.

I measured their feet and my goodness how much they have grown! Up a size and a half for each of the boys from last year. This is huge! I can remember their feet as babies. Their tiny toes were adorable. It makes me sad to think that this is another step towards adulthood, that someday these boys will be men. I know it is the natural process that every living thing goes through. But, as a mother, it is another inevitable sign that our children are on loan to us from God and that they eventually become members of society and will be on their own.

My boys and I compare our feet against each other just to laugh at how small their feet are. This year is different, my youngest sons toes almost reach to the top of mine. His flip flops are just a bit too small for me to wear. Next summer I am sure that we could share our shoes.

My oldest son and I have shared his summer shoes (without him knowing).
It makes me smile to see the tips of his toes hang just over the edge as his feet have grown just a bit more. As he tried on his school shoes I smiled to see how happy he was with the look of them. To know that it was his choice this year to what he wore on his feet.

With their shoes put back into the boxes until the first day of school the boys went outside to play yet another game of baseball.  All is happy in their world. Two more weeks of freedom, to them it seems that the start of school is a month away.

I was curious, I went to try on my older sons shoes, knowing that they would be perfect. I slipped my foot inside and wiggled my toes. I instantly got choked up and tears came to my eyes. There was so much room in there. I am sad and happy at the same time.

His shoes don't fit anymore.