View fullsize

A few years ago, I marveled at how gracefully my young daughter carried her younger brother on her back. The waves were too big for Mitchell’s weakened muscles, and earlier that day, Mitch privately confided to me, almost with a whisper, “Dad, I’m afraid of being swept into the sea.” Laura-Ashley, sensing Mitch wanted to play with her, offered to help him so he could experience the ocean in the safety of her arms. This image, this tiny moment in time, fills my eyes with tears of gratitude.

It feels like yesterday she was carrying Mitch on her back. Now, my sweet little girl carries a child of her own, and soon, Natalie and I will become grandparents. My heart is bursting with joy for my sweet daughter and her loving husband.

About 13 years ago, I started collecting children’s books for my future grandkids. I have since taken them out of storage and started practicing my dramatic readings and homemade sound effects. I can’t wait to read to them - and more than that, I can't wait to feel their little heartbeats as they fall asleep in my arms.

More recently, over the last few months, I’ve had a brooding impression that a grandchild might be near; so much so, I was pointing out little baby clothes to Natalie with a kind of dreamy anticipation of being a grandfather one day. It’s difficult to describe how excited I am to love and hold my future grandkids.

Laura-Ashley graduates from nursing school in April and is expecting in May. I’m proud of her on so many levels. She works in hospice, and I am humbled by how she serves her people: with dignity and respect, of course … but also with personality and authenticity. She has a unique relationship with each of them, and she becomes a bright part of their day. I remember what Mitchell’s hospice nurse meant to Natalie and me, and to see our daughter become that for others is humbling. There is so much to love about my not-so-little girl: I admire how Laura-Ashley makes friends everywhere she goes, I giggle over her unusual description of things, I cherish her adorable sense of humor, and I love her tender heart.

Nobody ever told me how being a dad would feel, and I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything. Today, I’m overflowing with all the feels.

It feels like yesterday when I heard the sound of muffled thumps and giggles in our living room.  I was so intrigued by what I heard that I had to sneak behind our couch to spy on what was happening.  As I quietly crawled within view, I saw Mitch laughing as he would squeeze and twist Ethan’s ear like a squishy toy.  They were both laughing so hard that I couldn’t help but laugh, too.  Little Mitch never had a mind to hurt his brother – only to wrestle as young boys do. 

Because Ethan knew his little brother was physically weak, he adapted his play-style so Mitch might feel strong and competitive.  Ethan could have easily turned the tables and overpowered his younger brother.  Instead, he set aside his pride, bridled his strength and allowed Mitch to win in ways that were unique to him – and in so doing, they both won. 

There was a point while home on hospice Mitch said to me “Dad, I just wish I could wrestle.  I just want to wrestle...”  By this time Mitch could hardly function – so it broke my heart to see him yearn for something he loved to do but couldn’t.  I wondered if Mitch missed wrestling so much because his older brother helped him feel normal, healthy and strong.   

View fullsize

By surrendering his strength, Ethan did more than serve his brother this day.  He reminded me that on the other side of service is the often invisible act of lifting hearts and minds – and Ethan knew how to do just that for his little brother.   

This image reminds me there is so much more to service than lifting heavy things or shoveling a neighbor’s driveway.  There is a time and place for strong arms - but there is a greater place for gentle hands and soft hearts.  The service of a smile, a kind word or loving encouragement can do so much for the downtrodden soul.   

Sometimes, perhaps more often than we appreciate, service can be seen in handing strength over to someone who is not as strong – and giving them a chance to win.                                                                

I miss the muffled thunder of Ethan and Mitch wrestling in my home.  And while part of my home is empty and heart hurting, my soul is overflowing with gratitude because I was blessed with two little giants who showed me the other side of service.  They showed me a different kind of love – and I am better off because of it. 

View fullsize

I was asked by a mother from Colorado if she could make a t-shirt with Mitchell’s saying, “Be nice to each other and be glad you’re alive.  Nothing else matters.”  Their local school district dedicated today to promote kindness, respect, and peace – and this sweet family wanted to offer Mitchell’s message to the conversation. Their focus today is to have a day without hate.  A beautiful, hopeful, and timely message Mitchell’s Journey can get behind.

View fullsize

This sweet girl, Isabella, has known of little Mitchell’s story for more than half her life now and she’s grown attached to his messages of love, courage, and kindness.  I remember her mother sending me a video shortly after Mitchell passed away.   A much younger Isabella pointed to a beautiful array of colors in a dimly lit sky and said in the tenderest of voices, “It’s Mitchell.”  She knew Mitch loved sunrises and sunsets and wondered if he was there, somewhere in the beautiful horizon.

So, when Isabella’s mother sent me these photos last night, my eyes welled with tears of gratitude.  She even used purple and gold, Mitchell’s two favorite colors.  I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for good people like the Lozano family – who we’ve come to know and love. I also felt grateful for the many people on this earth who share goodness and love – for in the end, as little Mitch taught me, that’s all that really matters. 

Perhaps all of us, wherever we live, can do something today that promotes kindness, respect and peace – in memory of little Mitch and in hope for a better world.

#D3DayWithoutHate

A much younger Isabella who grew up learning Mitchell's message of hope and love.

Another Image of Isabella - promoting awareness of DMD, the disease that took our son's life.

I’ve heard it said, “Sometimes memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks.” This is a memory did just that.

It was cold outside, but my heart couldn’t have been warmer at this moment. We took our kids on an adventure to play in the freshly fallen snow. As the kids were putting on their snow clothes, Ethan pointed to his Spiderman hat and said, “Hey Mitch, look at my hat!” Mitch smiled and said, “Dat’s cool. Look at mine; it’s mommies. Its soft and will keep me warm.” Were he given a choice to wear any hat on earth or his mom’s hat, he would have chosen his mother’s every time. To Mitch, wearing her hat was like getting a constant hug from her.

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

— Winnie the Pooh

With that, our kids ran outside to prance about in fluffy fields of white. Mitch reached down to gather snow in his tiny hands and threw it up in the air. He laughed as a chunk of snow landed on his brother’s head. Ethan giggled, then reached over to kiss his brother on his cheek.

By this time, the warm tears streaming down my face were turning to ice on my chin. If I could have frozen time like molecules of water in ice and forever live in this moment, I would have. I suppose, in a way, this photo did just that. I am forever grateful for tender memories – however much they might evoke feelings of loss and sorrow.

I think Winnie the Pooh said it best, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”