I remember this moment so vividly; the cold December air on my neck, the subtle clatter of teeth shivering in the wintry wind, and the smell of burning wood from fireplaces nearby. The smell of chimney smoke seemed to beckon us back to grandmas with the promise of a glowing hearth and delicious hot chocolate to warm us on the inside and out.
It hadn’t snowed yet, but you could feel winter was near.
Mitch, ever anxious to drink life in by the gallon, asked if we could drive ATV’s around the woods. At one point, Mitch wanted to stop and see his Grandma’s garden that had long gone to sleep for the winter.
Mitch said softly, “Dad, will you take a photo of Effie and me?”
“I’d love to!” I said with a smile.
I remember chuckling at Ethan, who didn’t get the memo; it was actually cold outside. I mean really cold. For the most part, he didn’t mind; and though he was under-dressed, he seemed to have my Canadian tolerance for cold air. He welcomed wintery weather in summery clothes. Mitch always thought his brother was a touch weird - which is why he loved him so. I was enjoying this time with my oldest boys but couldn’t wait to snuggle by the fire and drink hot chocolate.
It’s a curious thing how a single moment can be two things at once. In this case, it was a beautiful tragedy. On one side, I was glad to be with my children; on the other side, my soul was heavy. Mitchell’s face seemed pale as the November sky and his eyes seemed to whisper to me he knew his time was short. I was weighed down by a vague and pressing feeling time was slipping through my fingers at a rate I couldn’t fully appreciate. At one point on this trip, I had a distinct impression this would be Mitchell’s last time at Grandmas. From the time this photo was taken, Mitch had a little more than three months to live.
The more I step back and examine Mitchell’s life, the more I believe he was inspired. You see, he acted on feelings he had, and those tiny impressions-turned-actions would eventually become breadcrumbs of love for the ones he left behind. This photo is one of those breadcrumbs, a gift to his brother, and a gift to me. His silent acts of service remind me to slow down, listen, and give more of my actual myself.
When my boys sat to have their photo taken, the ancient Apocryphal words came to mind, “A faithful friend is a strong defense: and he that hath found one … hath found a treasure.” Captured in this image was not only two brothers, but two friends. I was grateful Mitch had a faithful friend in his brother, and Ethan had a faithful friend in Mitch.
Young Mitchell’s life was made rich by faithful friends. He had a few of them he especially loved – Luke, Derek, and David were his closest – but he had many others he also adored.
In my short 46 years, I’ve discovered casual friends are plentiful, but a truly faithful friend is as rare as it is special.
When I think about the kind of friends Mitch had and the friend he tried to be to them, I want to work harder and be a better friend to the people I love. I have my family who I love so very much – they’re not just family, they’re my friends. Add to that, a growing list of people near and far, whose friendship I treasure.
This image haunts and inspires me. It reminds me to slow down because time moves so fast. Mitch is looking at me in this photo, and I can almost hear him saying, “Dad, there isn’t much time. Let’s make the most of it.”
This Thanksgiving, I’m going to express my gratitude to my family and friends by slowing down and being more deeply in the moment. What better way to express my love and gratitude for my family and friends than by giving them all of me? I can think of none.
