Dear Mitch,

This time of year brings you back to me in ways I can’t explain.

For you, the holidays were always magic. Sure, you loved Santa and things, but you treasured the magic of family and being together more – it's ironic that the gift you treasured most was the very gift you gave to others.

It's interesting your favorite time of year was always the darkest and coldest. There’s some beauty to that – for it is only in the dark of night that we learn to appreciate light and warmth.

My son, if you could see what your light has done to lift and serve others. Your life has inspired many to show up with their art, strangers who saw your story and combined their compassion with their passions and shared beautiful stories, strangers who are now friends remember your life and loss and honor it with theirs. If anything, you have shown me anew that the human family is one family.

All over the world, people are making changes for the better.

And they take that light, that spark of meaning and purpose, and become a light to others. Whether they’re serving friends, family or complete strangers … they are lights.

Though you were small in stature, the impact you continue to make is no small thing.

When I look back, I can see so many points of light. So many blessings, big and small. They were as real and miraculous as anything I know. The timing of your life and everything that happened in it was a miracle. You are, sweet boy, like all of us, woven in a tapestry of light.

I don’t get to hold you anymore, but I can hold you in my heart. That is all we can do when we lose the one we love. You are the wind in my face and the lift to my soul.

I treasure my memories with you.

Some of my memories are hard – and I hang on to them, too. I don't shut them out because they remind me how fragile life is – and the need to make the most of the time we have. For one day, we will all die and go to that place beyond the hills.

When I lost you, we were surrounded in darkness. But as I allowed my spiritual eyes to adjust, I saw there was more, much more, happening behind the veil of darkness.

Were we to see through the window of life and peer beyond, I think we’d be awestruck by how much light surrounds us.

We’d be breathless to know we have not, and never will be, alone.

But for reasons we don’t yet know, that door is shut and we must learn to see through the eyes of faith.

I cannot see what’s over there … but I can see what is right here. And I believe. I believe in the goodness of the human family. I believe we’re inspired to love and serve … to make the world a better place in any way we can … in every way we know to do.

I miss you. And though I don’t get to make new memories with you, I can make new memories because of you. I’m learning to live without you – and it’s hard sometimes. But each day I’m getting stronger.

Each day I’m inspired by others, who serve because of you.

I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. Instead, I look upward and search for light. And I see it everywhere.

Well, this is dad, sighing off, for now. Thank you. Thank you for being my son. My teacher. My light.

This holiday, I’ll remember that no matter how difficult life can seem at times, there are blessings along the way. I will look for them because I know, I just know, they show the way.

Love,

Dad

View fullsize

During Mitchell's last Christmas, he had two Secret Santa’s that did variations on the 12-days of Christmas. This quiet, daily act of love was performed by two caring neighborhood families, who to this day have remained anonymous.

I was humbled how they went out of their way to give Mitch a lift and offer a glimpse of hope and happiness to a little boy who was very sick and whose parents' hearts trembled with fear.

Each evening they placed a thoughtful package at our door addressed to our son with a thoughtful note and gift from the heart. I hesitate to show one photo (as seen here) because I don’t want either of these families to think their gifts were any less valued. The truth was, each night as Natalie and I went to bed we wept tears of gratitude for both anonymous families and we prayed that whoever was responsible for being so good to our son would be blessed 100-fold.

When I look back on my photos of Mitchell's last December & January I'm shocked sometimes to see how sick our son looked. Every day Mitch was getting sicker and weaker - but as I saw his reaction to these Secret Santa gifts he would bounce back a little and find new energy. Mitch loved the surprise but he loved the thoughtfulness even more so.

My sweet wife, ever the thoughtful giver, has also shown me over the years by her quiet example that gifts can be the instruments of our affection … a way of saying “I understand you” or “I care.” In the end, the gifts that last [the ones with the greatest impact] are never really about the objects we give each other but instead are found in the meaning behind them. A thoughtful gift is a gift twice.

I hope those who gave our son the gift of love and care know how much that meant to us – but even more, what it did for little Mitch. The photo on the right was Mitch on his last Christmas Eve. We were eating his favorite dinner but he wasn't feeling well. Looking back, knowing what we know now, he was experiencing end-stage heart failure.

I'll never forget how Mitch reached for my hand and asked in a quiet voice, “Dad, do you know who’s giving me those gifts?” I told him I didn't know but that I knew they loved him – otherwise they wouldn't have been so kind. He smiled softly and said, “I wish I could thank them.”

In honor of my son’s wishes to thank whoever gave those gifts, I want to thank you for him and hope you know that your gifts were a gift twice.

In fact, looking back, your gifts weren't just a gift twice, they were a gift thrice.

Dear Mitch,

This time of year brings you back to me … in ways I can’t explain.

For you, the holidays were always magic. Sure, you loved Santa and things, but you treasured the magic of family and being together more – it's ironic that the gift you treasured most was the very gift you gave to others.

I find it interesting that your favorite time of year was always the darkest and coldest. There’s some beauty to that – for it is only in the dark of night that we learn to appreciate light and warmth.

My son, if you could see what your light has done to lift and serve others. Your life has inspired many to show up with their art, strangers who saw your story and combined their compassion with their passions and shared beautiful stories, strangers who are now friends remember your life and loss and honor it with theirs. If anything, you have shown me anew that the human family is one family.

All over the world, people are making changes for the better.

And they take that light, that spark of meaning and purpose, and become a light to others. Whether they’re serving friends, family or complete strangers … they are lights.

Though you were small in stature, the impact you continue to make is no small thing.

When I look back, I can see so many points of light. So many blessings, big and small. They were as real and miraculous as anything I know. The timing of your life and everything that happened in it was a miracle. You are, sweet boy, like all of us, woven in a tapestry of light.

I don’t get to hold you anymore, but I can hold you in my heart. That is all we can do when we lose the one we love. You are the wind in my face and the lift to my soul.

I treasure my memories with you.

Some of my memories are hard – and I hang on to them, too. I don't shut them out because they remind me how fragile life is – and the need to make the most of the time we have. For one day, we will all die and go to that place beyond the hills.

When I lost you, we were surrounded in darkness. But as I allowed my spiritual eyes to adjust, I saw there was more, much more, happening behind the veil of darkness.

Were we to see through the window of life and peer beyond, I think we’d be awestruck by how much light surrounds us.

We’d be breathless to know we have not, and never will be, alone.

But for reasons we don’t yet know, that door is shut and we must learn to see through the eyes of faith.

I cannot see what’s over there … but I can see what is right here. And I believe. I believe in the goodness of the human family. I believe we’re inspired to love and serve … to make the world a better place in any way we can … in every way we know to do.

I miss you. And though I don’t get to make new memories with you, I can make new memories because of you. I’m learning to live without you – and it’s hard sometimes. But each day I’m getting stronger.

Each day I’m inspired by others, who serve because of you.

I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. Instead, I look upward and search for light. And I see it everywhere.

Well, this is dad, sighing off, for now. Thank you. Thank you for being my son. My teacher. My light.

This holiday, I’ll remember that no matter how difficult life can seem at times, there are blessings along the way. I will look for them because I know, I just know, they show the way.

Love,

Dad

View fullsize

One of Mitchell’s all-time-favorite treats was hot chocolate.  When it snowed around the holidays, he always asked if I’d make my ‘famous hot chocolate’.  At least he thought it was famous.  With a warm cup in hand, he’d sit by the window and watch the snow fall and enjoy his warm treat.  Our family has many good memories making hot chocolate.  I’ve shared this a few years ago but want to share it again for those who may have missed it.

There’s nothing original about this recipe; in fact, I’m sure Pinterest is filled with a hundred thousand variations.  But this was our simple recipe and it was something Mitch loved and some of you might like it, too.

1. Warm milk to a boil over the stove.

2. Add chocolate shavings (Mitch really liked Lindt Milk Chocolate)
   He would often take candy bars and use a cheese grater to make the shavings

3. Generally, 3 ounces of chocolate for every 2 cups of milk works well.

4. Slowly stir chocolate shavings into simmering milk and whisk until completely dissolved

5. Add chocolate to preferred taste

6. Whipped cream, with a puff of cinnamon and sprinkled graham cracker crumbs on top always made it feel extra special.  Sometimes Mitch even wanted crushed candy cane on top. 

As with so many things in life, what we do is often less important in life than how we do it.   Having hot chocolate was fun but making it together as a family made both a treat and a memory.  And memories are sweeter and last much longer.

With the holidays around the corner, I’m reminded that while we might give each other gifts this season… love, time and attention are some of the greatest gifts we can give each other.