November 17, 2012
Happy Birthday my son!
Can I tell you again, for the millionth time, how much I miss you? How much
we ALL miss you?
So I’ve been thinking about the 31 years, 5 months, and 13
days that made up your life here on earth.
There sure are lots of good memories…and some stinky ones, too! Go figure!!
When I was pregnant with you I was SO worried I wouldn’t be
a good mom. Over the course of the
years, even when you were mad at me, you reminded me that I really was a “good mom” by
the way you loved me. Thank you! And how you adored your dad! You looked up to him, you admired him, you wanted to be like him. What you didn't see was how very much you are like him!
And what a great big brother you ARE. How many times did you and I talk about how hard it was at times for you not to have a “big brother,” but you did your part well for your younger brothers and sisters. And, you “sacrificed” for them by being the “first born” and knocking off many of the “rough edges” on your mother so the rest of the kids didn't have to go through what you did!! I guess YOU were tough enough to “take the hit,” too! *_*
There are SO many memories, for which I will always be
grateful! Sometimes I have twangs in my
heart that we weren’t able to give you the “things” that seemed so important
during some of your high school years. I
wish I would have been smart enough THEN to know that it was okay to not be
able to afford those things.
But I have always felt great peace about what we DID give
you: two parents who love each other;
the gospel of Jesus Christ; a foundation of spiritual strength that cannot be
bought; a family who did lots of things together and made lasting memories; a
father who came home at night, sang you songs, played games with you, answered
questions, and told you stories at bedtime; we gave you music, siblings (lots
of them!), we taught you how to cook, sew, clean; you learned how to mow lawns,
plant a garden, move woodpiles (even when they didn’t need moved!), and wash
every window in the house.
And you discovered a lot on your own: like how to put out a fire
INSIDE the house; how to baptize a CAR; how to get a good reaction out of your
mother when you stuckout your tongue and hardware was attached (which wasn’t
nearly as good as the time you called me from work to say “I’m going to be a
dad…just kidding…I got a tattoo and just wanted you to realize it could be
worse!!”); let’s see…you also learned how to take apart a car, and move it
inside your apartment to work on it; how to light bottle rockets off inside your apartment, aimed
UNDER the bathroom door…while the bathroom was occupied by someone else!! And you learned how
to NOT climb a cliff in the dark and fall off of it!! By the
way, how many phone calls have we had that started out something like, “Hi mom,
are you sitting down?” And I finally
started responding with, “I HATE these kind of phone calls!!”
When you were a toddler I came across a piece of sheet music
in Provo that I bought. Every time I
played it on the piano I cried. The
words to the song ripped my heart out.
The title was “That Little Boy of Mine” and I always pictured having to
sing it at your funeral. I think I threw
it away last year. Glad I did. I would never have been able to get through
THAT song.
I guess, in some ways, I have
prepared for your death for the past 30 years.
It didn’t make it easier!!
There
are some things that we just can’t “fix” and so we have to learn how to deal
with them. I am learning to put the
difficult things in a “box” and leave it in the corner. I choose to remember the many, many good
memories we have together, and only occasionally open the box of difficult
things. They are important, too. The thorns we experience through hardship,
heartache, trials, sadness, disappointment, and grief help us TRULY appreciate
the roses of peace we have because of our love, our family, and our eternal bonds to
each other.
Oh how I love you, my
son! I am so very grateful for the day
you were born into my life! I just wish you were here, so I could see your smile, pat
your cheeks, rub the whisker stubble on your face, and have you wrap your arms
around me.
Love,
Mom