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I stopped by to visit little Mitch today after work. I was so grateful to have these beautiful arrangements from @robinojones adorn my little boys place of rest. They were so thoughtfully arranged in memory of Mitch and perfectly reflect the tenderness of his heart and the things he treasured.

Mitch loved Christmas with all of his heart, not just because he got presents (what child wouldn't be excited about that?) ... he loved Christmas more because of the spirit of giving and the meaning behind the holiday.

As I sat on the bench and thought about my son, I was reminded of the things that matter most in life. I cried a little and then, unexpectedly, I cried a lot. I felt a strange potpourri of grief and gratitude coursing through my veins.

I believe my heart has healed a great deal since I lost him, but I will always hurt because he's gone. I will always grieve. This is a burden of sorrow I'll carry until the day I die. Sometimes it hurts a little, other times it hurts a lot.

Today grief washed over me like a tidal wave ... yet I knew I wasn't drowning. I was just learning how to swim in a place of never-ending tides, unexpected undertows and a landscape of fluid emotions. I was okay, but not okay ... and that was okay. That's part of being human.

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I'll always remember how difficult it was for Mitch to bend over and gather leaves. Sometimes he would lose his balance, fall to the ground, then struggle to stand up again. His muscles were wasting away and I was powerless to stop it. As his friends were getting stronger, he was getting weaker. I began to see how often I took for granted what he struggled so hard to enjoy. I never imagined the gentle teacher I discovered in my little boy.

“Gratitude is not only the greatest virtue but it is the parent of all others.”

— Marcus Tullius Cicero

I remember asking, “Mitch, can I help you gather leaves?” Mitch said quietly, “No, it’s okay, Dad. I want to do it myself.” As I sat and watched my boy struggle, I fought back the tears and said a prayer in my heart that heaven might save my son from certain death – for he was a good soul and the world needed more people like him. Heaven saw things differently and took my boy away – for there was work to do, I suppose, in places I cannot say.

The ancient Roman philosopher Cicero once observed, “Gratitude is not only the greatest virtue but it is the parent of all others.” Among this little boy’s virtues, gratitude was chief among them … for he never saw his glass half empty, nor did he see it half full. He was just grateful there was something in it.

Mitch taught me gratitude is always greater.

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I stumbled onto a 2011 Thanksgiving photo of Mitch late last night and sent a copy of it to Natalie this morning. Our exchange, a brief yet tender one.

At least for me, grief isn't about being in misery. Instead, it's a state of longing and wanting our loved ones back. It's a longing so deep your knees shake, hands tremble, and eyes suddenly fill with tears. Grief lingers like a silent shadow - ever close, always near ... its weight undiminished by the passing of years.

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When I close my eyes and think back on this moment, I can still smell that faint, earthy whisper of fallen leaves as my boys wrestled in a freshly gathered pile. The ruffles and crunches, blended with the giggles of my boys still play in my ears as though it just happened. “Hey, Effie, let’s throw leaves in the air again”, Mitch prodded his older brother. “We can pretend we’re in Lord of the Rings or something.” Ethan, not knowing what little Mitch meant, reached down and began to gather leaves in his arms. Mitch, eager to make believe, already had his armful.

I laid on the ground quietly and took photos from the perspective of a field mouse, looking up at my little boys who had a giant imagination. I loved this moment and the moment immediately after this photo was taken when the sky was filled with golden snowflakes made high by little boys who loved to play.

I recently stumbled across this quote: “Isn’t it strange how autumn is beautiful, yet everything is dying?” I love this quote, not just for the arrangement of words, but for the meaning it conveys. I have discovered that beauty can be found in almost anything if we look for it.

To be clear, seeing my son slowly die was not beautiful – in fact, it was a horror show that broke my heart and soul. Yet, when I look back on the tender mercies we received during that time from a loving Father, I know we are we are not alone. I know that heaven walks before us and prepares the way for all that we experience. The truth is, we are rarely spared suffering, but we can be given comfort in times of need … and there is a certain beauty in that.

For every difficult thing I’ve experienced, I’ve learned something about its counterpart. Poverty has taught me the value of a penny; suffering the splendor of peace. Death has taught me to appreciate life; grief has shown me the value of time.

When the skies darken and I'm tempted to give up, I stop and count my blessings ... I name them one-by-one. For every negative, I have discovered a positive – and usually more than one. It is humbling to see all that God has done - not just for me, but my precious little son.