I don't know how my wife did it - she was so very strong. Ordinarily I can compartmentalize my emotions because I have a deeply rooted belief that cool heads and calm hearts are more apt to make the best decisions. That mindset has served me well over the years but the prospect of losing my son ripped my heart out and threw it over the hills into a briar patch of molten sorrow. Happiness seemed a universe away, perhaps forever out of reach.
In the face of my son’s death my wife put her emotions to the side and learned all she could to help Mitch. She was every-bit a hero to her family and son. I tried to be strong but when I looked at my wife I quickly realized the sheer giant I had married so many years ago. I truly stand deep in her shadow.
We had been at the hospital a few days and learned Mitchell’s life was about to end. My wife and I were mortified and unprepared for the descending hell that was thrust upon us. We told our older children the news but decided to tell Wyatt at a later time – for he was so young and we didn't want him to scare his older brother by saying anything prematurely. All Wyatt knew at the time was that Mitch was in trouble and very sick. Within less than a month of this photo my sweet little boy would pass away and my heart would be lost in a wilderness of sorrow. I would need to find my way out … somehow … some way.
The other day my wife and I sat at the foot of our bed and started talking about how much we miss our son – I saw a grief in her eyes that was just as tender as the day we lost Mitch. She told me how hard it has been for her and that she is worried memory will fade. I knew exactly what she meant. Her face expressed a grief that came from the deepest wells of human experience. We wept together – for we both wade in those heavy, dark waters. How, then, are we to find happiness when someone was so woven into our own happiness is gone?
Despite the profound burden of loss I carry, I believe I’m entering a new phase of grief – not because a year has passed and we've crossed some magical threshold, or that others tell me it is time to move on. The truth is, you don’t move on and leave grief behind … you just learn to carry it differently. But something is changing inside me and that change is good. I believe the same is true of my wife. Oh, we still hurt every bit as much as the day we lost our son, but we are taking on new feelings that seem to be a counterbalance to sorrow. We have felt genuine, liberating, and fulfilling happiness.
Over the last few days Ethan and I practiced Lacrosse and I marveled at his awesomeness, Wyatt and I made some funny videos that had us crying because we were laughing so hard, and Laura-Ashley and I talked for a few hours while she practiced driving. These simple moments with my family have brought me so much joy. I love spending time with my wife and children and I would rather be with them than any other humans on the face of the planet … and not a day passes they don’t hear it 100 times. I have an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for my family – and that brings me deep happiness; a kind of happiness that never wears out or fades, never goes out of fashion, a happiness that is endless and enduring.
While I have discovered happiness again there remains a hole, a missing soul that I miss terribly. In the absence of my precious son, I will continue to explore my joys and sorrows. Be warned, I still have things to share that will be hard to read. Some have suggested I share only happy moments moving forward – but that I will not do. Hell happened. And I will talk about it. My hope at the end of this Journey, however long this road, is that through exploring the many aspects of grief and sorrow others may find my clumsy mileposts and offer some relief they are not alone. Each journey is so different, each sorrow so unique, but perhaps Mitchell’s Journey can help as others navigate their own troubles.
Notwithstanding my deep sorrows I have found happiness. Not because I felt entitled to it, but because I sought after it. True indeed are those prophetic words, “seek and ye shall find” for in them are required actions that unlock truths and make them mine.
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.