There was never a sunset, animal, or any sight of nature Mitch didn't look upon with wonder. He admired the smallest insects and biggest animals … he loved weather and sunscapes and everything in between. To him the world was one giant zoo, and he, with watchful eyes was just passing through. Surely he loved video games and electronics, but he loved all that nature had to offer even more. If ever our Creator had a fan, Mitch was His super-fan.
I took this photo on Mitchell’s Make-A-Wish trip. He stood mesmerized as he watched the dolphins glide through the water like a gentle bird that had taken flight. As Mitch leaned against the glass and watched them slip gracefully through the deep blue, I think part of him wished he could be like them and move about with ease. For Mitch moving was difficult.
What Mitch lacked in physical strength, he more than compensated in other ways. Aside from a tender heart and discerning eyes, Mitch was filled with wonderment. I believe that is a spiritual gift, too.
Little Mitch learned to see and appreciate what so many overlook as ordinary or unremarkable. Soon I will share a story about a sunrise he wanted me to see; he was so sweet, so fascinated, so in love with the world.
I always thought of life as being like a river; that the choices we make and their consequences we send downstream. We are, after all, at least in some degree, a product of the generations that preceded us. For some, they corrupt and pollute their stream and contaminate all that follow them. Others are custodians of humanity and goodness- ever keeping their waters clean. Still, others are stewards of the future and send seeds and nourishment to those that follow. But I have discovered, with great wonderment of my own, my children have passed things upstream, too. They teach me lessons that are just as life-altering and every bit as valuable as anything I would hope to share with them.
My little son has given me pause so many times; he has taught me to live my life with wonderment and my life is all the richer because of it.
My theology teaches me that everything denotes there is a God – indeed, from the subatomic to the cosmic, there is much to look upon with wonderment. But alas, the greatest of all God’s creations are the souls that walk this earth: His children. I have been blessed to raise 4 of His children – and my sense of love and wonder over those creations leave me speechless and humbled to my core.
Before we started a family I thought I understood the depths of love. It wasn't until I had my own children I sensed I had merely been frolicking in a splash park. My wife and children have taken my love to deeper waters; even still I sense I am swimming in the shallow-end and that the waters of love … waters of the soul … are deeper still. I find the more I live the deeper I love. In fact, the more I contemplate love I sense the waters of life and love spring eternal and there is no end to its depths.
I will live out the remainder of my days in awe over the mysteries of life and death and that place beyond the hills. I will be forever thankful for that gift of wonderment my son passed upstream. The gift to see with awe and wonder, to see what goes unseen.
New Year’s Eve was a few hours away and 2012 would soon be in the history books. Unaware our son had about 2 months to live we carried on with our lives as normally as we knew how. Perhaps in some measure we took a little of life for granted - for had I known the hour was so late, I would have spent my minutes differently. Such is the lament of all that grieve … but I did the best I knew how – and I can live with that. I can breathe.
On this night we took our kids to Rock Creek Pizza Co, a local restaurant chain we love to support. Mitch sat beside me, as he always did, clung to my arm and leaned his head into me. I love how softly he loved. If this tiny, almost invisible exchange meant the world to Mitch … it meant the universe to me. His gentle, affectionate touch was more powerful than a million of the world’s strongest men.
I quickly grabbed my cell phone and took a photo of my tender son who just wanted to love and be loved. I swallowed the lump in my throat and wondered who was comforting whom. I then kissed his forehead and whispered, “I love you, son.” Mitch replied softly, “I love you too, Dad.”
I really miss my son.
As often as I say “I love you” to my family (and I say it about 100 times a day) it never gets old because each time I mean it a little more than the time before. Each day I discover love anew and fall more deeply in love with my family. Sometimes in my sorrow I am pained by the price of love, but I would rather have a broken heart than an empty heart – no matter how much it hurts.
While I travel through life on the other side of Mitchell’s Journey, this impossible sojourn through love and loss, I find each day offers a little more than the day before. A little more sorrow and a little more healing: it’s a curious blend – what seems like arch-rivals are indeed paradoxical friends. I hurt because I’m healing – I am on the mend.
Some days are more difficult than others. It has been over a year since I lost my son and not a single day has passed that I haven’t cried for him. I pray for a day without rain. One day it will come.
This was just an ordinary night punctuated by ordinary moments of love and quiet affection – not just with Mitch, but also with my other children.
I love my family and not a day passes they don’t know it – each day a little more than the time before.
We have been asked to speak about Mitchell’s Journey to many different audiences over the past while and we are grateful for any opportunity to put a face to DMD and share our son’s story.
Soon we will post two videos of recent addresses: one that focuses on our family’s experience from a medical perspective and another about the spiritual journey through our own wilderness. And what a wilderness it has been.
We are grateful to all of you who support Mitchell’s Journey in so many ways. We have some things in development that we will soon share publicly … things we hope will bless everyone’s life, regardless of their circumstances.
In the meantime, thank you. Whether you comment or just quietly observe. We are grateful.
I took this photo yesterday of two tender souls; two sweet girls who came together because of one sweet little boy.
Natalie was never big on dogs – that is until she met Marlie and saw what she did for Mitch. It seems that Marlie’s first heaven-sent mission was to comfort our dying boy – which she did in the tenderest of ways. Now she lifts our heavy hearts – which she does in so many ways.
Today my eyes are filled with a curious blend of tears. Some are born of sorrow, the sting of death and many stolen years. While others come from a warmer place, a place of love and joy. I shed tears of gratitude, for I had my little boy.