Posts tagged To Heal
FIVE SHOVELS, ONE MISSING BOY

In my garage hang 5 shovels that were used, as a matter of ceremony, to bury my dear son. Every day I come home I see them. I can’t NOT see them. These shovels are now symbols of what matters most and the price my family paid to be reminded of such. When I see them, suddenly material things are worthless to me; the pursuit of fame and attention, ring hollow and lame; and all the tinsel and chatter of the world lose their luster and powers of persuasion. 

I just see 5 sacred symbols, still bearing dirt from the burial site, and am reminded of one missing boy I would do anything to see and hold again.

I don’t keep these symbols visible to agitate already tender wounds nor do I use them to fixate on the pain of loss; the kitchen table with an empty chair does that well enough. Instead, these shovels keep me focused and clear-minded. They remind me of the realities of life and also point to my most treasured relationships. Each day I leave my garage remembering Mitch and I make a promise to do better than the day before – to make whatever time I have on this earth matter. When I return home I am reminded to talk a little softer, to listen more intently, and to love more visibly … for everything, and I mean everything ... is temporary. 


I made this video just after Mitch passed away vimeo.com/61500841 wherein these shovels were shown.

These symbols keep me sober and sane. They remind me to never dig a pit for my neighbor or intentionally cause harm to others, but rather to take compassion and help dig others out of trouble and help where I can. They remind me that I, too, will one day be laid to rest and I will be held accountable for my choices … for the help or harm I caused others. 

I hope to never hurt another but always help ... and if I'm lucky, to build a soul with heaven's help.

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THE PATH TO HEALING

Yesterday we said goodbye to my mother and step-father after our annual Easter trip in Southern Utah. Visiting them has become a much-treasured tradition we sort of stumbled into by accident a few years ago. Aside from home, this was the place Mitch loved to be above all other places.

Like a powerful breeze, as if from a storm, I felt my memories press against me. Sometimes I had to brace myself to keep from falling. Every tree, every rock and shadow brought back vivid memories of my son there. I could almost hear his voice in the distance. So rich are my memories sometimes it feels as though I can turn around and see my son smiling at me. But he is not here, nor there. And I will not see him again – at least not in this life – save only in my dreams.

I cannot step foot in this place and not get lost in memory. Nostalgia pushes and tugs at my heart reminding me what once was. I also feel deep appreciation for what still is. Mostly, I feel gratitude that I had my son in the first place – no matter how much losing him hurts. 

Memory can be beautiful or frightful: like hot coals aglow, I can gather them to warm my soul or, if not properly handled, they can hurt and damage me. 

I know I’m on the path to healing because visiting this place wasn’t as painful as it was last year. For last year I cried. And I cried. And I cried. This year I still cried – but not near as much. Like a healing wound, my heart was still tender and it will ever be so. 

After we said our goodbyes I took a photo of an incoming storm. Mitch loved weather. This was the kind of thing he would have noticed and captured with his iPod. I took this shot and thought of him. Were he here, Mitch would have taken this same shot and thought of me. 

Soon I will turn Mitchell’s iPod on and explore the world through his eyes: the photos he took and the movies he made are waiting to be explored. Until now I haven’t had the courage to go there. I have been afraid, for new grief lies in wait there. It is sure to be a painful place to visit. 

Though my heart remains tender the path to healing is taking me there with a warm soul. 

Unafraid.

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BECAUSE HIS BROKEN HEART TOUCHED MINE

It was late August and we somehow managed to survive our first summer without our son. Saturday morning had come and it was a beautiful, almost dream-like day when we went to visit out son’s place of rest. A few moments prior to this photo I captured Marlie sitting at the foot of Mitchell’s headstone staring at it. After a few moments Natalie quietly sat by Marlie. This little girl, this furry friend to our son and family, looked up at this broken-hearted mommy. 

I know dogs are intuitive for I have seen their intuition with my own eyes. This same puppy, much smaller at the time, never left Mitchell’s side while he was sick. And the night Mitch passed she curled around his head as if to comfort him – like a mother would cradle her baby. Now there was another person that needed comfort – a mother who was dying on the inside. I wondered at this moment what Marlie was thinking – did she know that Natalie was in pain? Sometimes I think so. 

I sensed Marlie missed Mitch because I would often find her laying on his bed as if to wait for him to come home. She would lay on his pillow in the same way she did when Mitch passed away. I was always saddened to see that. 

A few weeks after Mitch passed away a dear friend of our family and mother to one of Mitchell’s best friends, Carter (who I will write about soon), approached us and asked if she could start a 5K run in honor of Mitch called “Miles for Mitchell”. 

We were so touched by her thoughtfulness. Natalie loves to run - it is her way of coping. Before Mitchell passed away he said in a soft, almost breathless voice, “Hey mom, you can take Marlie running with you every day. I think she would like that.” Mitch wished he could run like other kids but his muscles were too weak. Natalie kissed Mitch softly and said, “I sure will. I will run with Marlie.” 

Natalie has kept her promise and runs every day with this sweet little dog. 

We were overwhelmed by the love and support from our local community, neighbors and friends last year. They rallied to help us in a time of crisis and great need – and we were deeply humbled and taken to our knees. That run, Miles for Mitchell, did so much for Natalie’s heart on her path to healing. For she was surrounded by people who cared, who loved her and felt after her broken heart. I suspect this year's run will do the same for her. And that makes my heart glad - for she hurts, too.

For those who want to attend our second annual Miles for Mitchell, the run will be held May 3rd. You can find more details on www.facebook.com/MilesForMitchell or you can register here: http://tinyurl.com/ka5qu89.

Last year the run was aimed at helping our family pay off medical bills and cover funeral expenses – for which we were deeply grateful. 

This year, and every year hereafter, we will run to raise awareness for DMD and its catastrophic outcomes, to support Mitchell’s Journey, and help others who hurt.

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