I remember how playful my children were at this moment and how much they loved their mother.  We were at a reunion and every family was back in their hotel rooms to rest a little.  As a Dad, my heart swelled when I saw our kids laugh and kiss Natalie’s cheeks to let her know how much they loved her.  This was an emotional payday for my sweet wife and best friend – and my soul smiled, glad to see her cash in a little on all the long nights and thankless days.  I was glad to capture this sweet exchange because this was one of those perfect moments that can slip through your fingers like the finest sand.  On the darker days, these good times remind me that not all of life is bad.

“Somehow, some way, if we’re patient, and if we seek to find meaning before we seek peace … we’ll heal faster and hurt a little less.”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

As far as I can tell, I believe one of the hard truths about life is this: things don’t always turn out well.  And sometimes, things can go terribly, horribly wrong.  Bad things can, and probably will happen to us.  If we live long enough, our hearts may be broken many times and we might suffer a great deal over the years.  But between all those hurts we’re going to experience many, many happy times. 

I still miss my little boy and I’m still grieving – but I think I’m entering a new stage of grief – that is the stage of deep acceptance.  When I think of the stages of grief, I don’t think I ever experienced anger – only great sadness.  Maybe I did experience anger … but I don’t ever remember being mad at God – only very, very sad.  I could have filled an ocean with my tears.

On my grief journey, I often wondered what acceptance would mean to me.  I think I’m beginning to understand.  At least for me, I’ve learned to accept I will forever miss little Mitch.  I accept there will always be an empty chair at the table of my heart – and I’ll long to see it occupied.  I accept that I now live with chronic [emotional] pain.  Yet, pain, like every emotion, has its time and place.  The emptiness is always, but the pain comes and goes – as does joy and peace.  As time progresses, the peaks and valleys are less intense.

I think about Mitch daily – sometimes I cry, other times I smile, and increasingly, I giggle over the cute things he used to do. 

I’m beginning to discover something about what can happen to the wounds that cut us so deeply.  Somehow, some way, if we’re patient, and if we seek to find meaning before we seek peace … we’ll heal faster and hurt a little less.  To my great surprise, these terrible wounds are turning into soft, peaceful memories – and fewer tears fill my eyes.

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Last night Natalie and I participated in the final leg of a short documentary that is being produced about Mitchell’s Journey. It will air in October and I’ll be sure to post a link to it on this page.

A few months ago I received a message from Candice Madsen who is a producer for KSL, the same news group and producer that aired stories about Mitch while he was still with us. She wanted to see how we felt about them telling more about Mitchell’s Journey and the effect it has had on others. We were so humbled by their request – and because we trust them we gave them permission. Since then they have flown around the United States and interviewed some people who have been touched on some level. 

At some point during the interview I was taking snaps with my iPhone and everyone started to laugh and take pictures at the same time. It is my deep belief one can never take too many photos. This was the photo Candice took while Natalie and I were being interviewed by Brooke Walker, a co-host to Studio 5 and the narrator to the Mitchell’s Journey piece. She was also so loving and kind.

Although we have had little to do with the production of this documentary, save pointing the producers to a few followers, participating on some level has been a tender and humbling experience. Listening to my wife talk about Mitch and our family and her philosophy on life reminded me why I fell so in love with her many years ago. 

I sure love my wife and I want to be more like her. She is so loving and kind, wise and thoughtful. I am so grateful that she puts up with me and I hope at the end of my days, when I am old and about to see my son again, that I can look into my wife’s eyes and know I did my very best to love and serve her. For the best way to honor my son is to love his mother … and love her, I do.