Tonight Natalie and I listened to a woman perform a song she wrote in memory of Mitch. It was a beautiful, complex and passionate piece of music. I had never met her before and she wrote me a private message just yesterday to tell me about her performance tonight. I am grateful that she did.
It is my nature to be deeply moved by music; music (at least to me) is a language of the soul. I have heard other songs written in honor of Mitch, each beautiful and touching, but this one was different. This song moved me deeper than deep and I felt a whisper of my son. Afterward, I asked her if I could arrange to record it professionally. I truly hope to.
She has a gift of the soul and it touched mine. Thank you Erin Wood. You have blessed our life with your beautiful talent.
http://instagram.com/p/tb2OpTS1ZU/
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.
Last year an anonymous follower arranged to have a bracelet made that bore my son’s handwriting of the last thing he ever wrote me. When I opened the package and saw it for the first time, I wept. I had posted a photo of Mitchell’s handwritten note when he was home on hospice many months prior and this kind person used that photo as the source for the bracelets inscription. I was profoundly touched by this gift. Whoever you are, thank you. I wish I knew who you are so I could thank you personally.
The woman/artisan who was hired to make this bracelet was the same woman who sent my wife a gift just after Mitch passed, again with his handwriting that read “I Love My Mom.” I will write of that sweet story soon.
I have treasured this bracelet greatly. Although I have many weaknesses, this memorial around my wrist serves as a reminder to always do my best. While in Mitchell’s eyes I was the best, I knew I fell short in so many ways – but I always tried my best. Like the saying, “fall down seven times, stand up eight”, that is what I will do until my dying day.
As I approach Memorial Day I have a certain heaviness in my heart. I am grateful for the men and women who sacrificed their lives for peace and freedom –and I will always reverence them. At least for me, Memorial Day also represents another layer of fallen ones … the ones who fought a different kind of war and died while fighting to live. My son is one of them; along with so many other children who fought a battle with DMD and lost. In fact, that is a battle no one survives. Not one.
So this weekend I have a reverent heart for those who fought violent battles behind enemy lines - and also for my son and many others who fought an invisible biological enemy and died.
I have long lamented the tradition of honoring someone after they've died when they could have used the boost while they were living. I never go a day and not tell the people around me how great I think they are - for they may be fighting an invisible battle of the soul and dying a little inside each day. Everyone is fighting a battle of some kind ... so why wait to compliment, honor and build up the ones we love until they are gone?
What's more, we write funeral talks, paint masterpieces, sculpt statues and build all manner of memorials in honor of the fallen. And while those are good and worthy endeavors, I would rather become a living memorial than build one. I would rather take the lessons learned at so high a price and become what I learned rather than point to a statue of an ideal. This day, and every day here after, I will try to sculpt my life in such a way that I bring honor to my son – a much worthier soul than my own.
As I make my journey to that place beyond the hills, I know I will fall down seven million times … but I will stand up seven million and one – because my little boy believed in me and saw something I didn't.
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Bracelet created by: www.facebook.com/SugarplumsJewelry
A few days after Mitchell passed away we received a very personal letter from Representative John Knotwell expressing his sincere condolences. I remember reading his heart-felt letter and being moved to tears because he, a stranger to us, cared so much. He wasn't looking for recognition. But he, being a father, recognized our hurt and felt after us … and he served us by mourning with us.
Once again I was on the receiving end of that magnificent doctrine of mourning with those that mourn. So many of you have done the same for us – and we are deeply grateful.
Fast-forward a year (today) and Rep. Knotwell, who still cared, visited our home with two memorials in honor of our fallen son: a state flag that had been flown in memory of Mitch near the day of his passing and an official citation from the state recognizing our son, his journey and legacy. As I read the words of the citation I was so moved by its thoughtfulness – I fought back tears. There was nothing perfunctory about it. That state document was heart-felt and very much in touch.
We visited a while and I could tell by the questions he asked and the comments he made that he cared. After he left my home I went to my office and quietly shut my door and had a deep moment … a moment of grief and gratitude.
My wife and I want to thank Speaker Rebecca Lockhart and Rep. John Knotwell for recognizing our son and family. Though we wish with all our heart we were living out our lives under the canopy of anonymity, we are so grateful for the empathy, service, and goodness of others. For all of you who reach out in love, know that you make heavy hearts a little lighter.
Today I was reminded that people are good. Very good.