Last Friday I arrived at my office and discovered a beautiful gold box with a hand written note attached. It was from Candice Madsen, the remarkable woman who produced that 30 minute story on Mitchell’s Journey which aired on television last October. I had learned that her story was nominated for a regional Emmy last month, and about a week ago I discovered it won.
Inside this gold box was the actual Emmy award. In her note she said she wanted our family to have it and encouraged us to “shine on”. I’ve cried several times … both over her kind gesture as well as the price that was paid for such a story to even exist.
I will forever be grateful for Candice and KSL who shared our son’s story with such honest, yet tender care. Never once did we sense we were being exploited or that their efforts were for ratings or prestige. Instead, they seemed to care more about the story itself and its real impact on others.
I didn’t know any of the people they featured in this spot until after I lost my son. Over time, each of these remarkable people and families shared some of their experience with me and they have each become dear friends to me – and my life is richer because of it. In fact, I have been blessed to come to know so many of you. I read your every single comment, I ponder your heartbreak and find myself praying specifically for many of you who share your struggles. I am also inspired by your love, compassion and hope.
Just recently I had an exchange with a woman from a far-away country. She described a bit about her journey to rekindle her faith and had questions. I shared a little about my thoughts and experience with God. She then tried a few things I suggested and she wrote back that she immediately sensed something different. A month later she wrote me again and said she was experiencing an inner awaking. My heart was overflowing.
I am always grateful to hear how Mitchell’s Journey is making a difference. The Gabriel Award and now the Emmy … it is nice to know other institutions recognize this little story on the internet. Yet, in truth, what motivates me aren’t accolades or the honors of society; instead, I am deeply moved when I discover your private stories of faith, hope and healing. It is the invisible stories … stories that exist far under the radar of Hollywood and news circuits that move my soul.
I am inspired by you.
One day, all that society has worked so hard to build will come crashing to the earth – everything will become nothing. The only thing that will remain is what we have become. What we make of our souls.
I have a long way to go – but I have my Father and the hope of seeing my sweet son again to guide me.
instagram.com/mitchells_journey/
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For those that haven’t seen KSL's piece on Mitchell's Journey, here is a link:https://www.ksl.com/?sid=31804270
https://www.facebook.com/Candice-Madsen-KSL-417742541757218/?fref=ts
http://rockymountainemmy.org/
My daughter took this photo on my last birthday with Mitch, October 2012. I remember this day … this very moment, as though it happened an hour ago. After the birthday party was over Mitch came behind me, like he so often did, and hugged me.
I think we hugged each other 100 times a day. It never got old or routine – every hug was deep and heart-felt. I miss that deeply affectionate part of my son. I miss every part of him. Almost every morning Mitch would sit quietly on the couch and wait for me to go to work. I’d hear him say from a distance, “Mom, is Dad still here?” When he would see me, he would struggle to get off the couch because his muscles were weak … then come running in his awkward gait to give me a big hug. “I love you, Mitch.” I’d say in a soft voice. “I love you, too, Dad.” This little boy was sweeter than sweet.
So when Mitch came to hug me at this moment, it was really the only birthday gift I wanted. My family knows I’m not really interested in receiving gifts – I just wanted to be with them, for children is the greatest gift any father could ever have. Even still, each of my children chose a gift that was unique and perfectly … me. It’s interesting how a thoughtful gift is a gift twice.
At the time, I wasn’t aware of the look on his face as this photo was taken; I can’t help but wonder if Mitch was having a faint sense time was short. I know he knew his life would be short – and I think this was about the time he knew he was running out of time.
As my birthday was approaching this month, Natalie asked me if there was anything special I wanted to do. I said, “I just want to spend time with you and the kids.” And that’s just what we did. Yesterday was a beautiful day. I posted some of those photos on Instagram.com/mitchells_journey
There are so many complex layers to grief and healing. Yesterday was filled with peace and joy … yet I still had a private moment where I wept. It didn’t last long, but I wept hard. On balance, I feel happiness and peace in my heart regularly – and for long periods of time. There was a time in the beginning I wondered if that day would ever come – for the gravity of grief made even breathing difficult. That is not the case today and I’m grateful for this. In many ways, I think it is safe to say I have moved on. But the truth about grief and longing is that it still goes with you. You don’t leave grief behind – it goes with you … only it has less power to take everything from you.
Each day I am learning to take happiness and joy back. Yet I know deep sorrow will be my quiet companion the remainder of my days. I suppose that stark contrast makes moments of joy I feel in my heart all the sweeter, for I have come to know the bitter taste of tears.
One day, in that place beyond the hills, Mitch and I will hug each other again … and I will flood the earth with my tears. Only this time my tears won’t be born of sorrow. On that day when we shall meet, my tears will come from a place of love and healing and they will be sweeter than sweet.
Until that day my boy and I shall meet ...
Last night Natalie and I went on a wooded walk. We wandered through the crunchy leaves and just began to talk.
The air was crisp and fragrant, rich with earth's deep tones. If only we could have a bottle to keep and call our own.
So there we shared some gentle words about life and other things. Then our souls went where words do not exist, nor can they … not even in our dreams.
It’s strange to live in such a place, where peace and grief reside. The loneliness of longing forever at your side.
I saw my wife, two lives rolled into one. Arms filled with love and family, yet empty in search of our little son.
Yet something happened in the woods last night – something we didn’t quite see. We knew the season was changing, and suddenly we realized so were we.
Grief evolves. How could that be? I think I see it now, it isn't grief that changed, but me.
Yet there is still a deep, dark wood. A place that is felt, not seen. Where words of grief and anguish do not exist, not even in our dreams.
I stopped by the cemetery to see Mitch this evening and noticed somebody left this on his headstone. I wonder who it was and what that person was thinking and feeling. I couldn't help but think how much people matter to each other. Everybody matters, everybody mean something to somebody.