As Natalie lifted Mitch from the floor, she looked intensely at the Milrinone pump to ensure it was still giving him the life-lengthening drug. Mitch, having lost his balance, leaned back only to find his loving mother's arm to keep him safe.
Unaware the mortal trouble he faced, Mitch looked down at his furry friends and wished he could roll around with them like they did with each other. This sweet little boy had attached a small stuffed animal to a string of yarn so he could dangle it from a chair. His back muscles were too weak to bend over, were he to try to pick the toy up from the ground. Little Mitch discovered other ways to squeeze a little more life out of life.
If children only knew what they do for parents ... sometimes I wonder who really raises who. Though we teach our kids how to walk and talk, they teach us about what really matters in life. It is something of a paradox that it takes a child to show us how to grow up.
It was cold and snowy outside when we heard a tap on our front door. It was Rodney Thornell, a neighbor and friend who lived just a few blocks away. Standing beside him was his own puppy whose face peered upward with the innocence of a sweet child. Rodney and his family named their dog Dragon. Mitch thought that was neat because he loved dragons … and puppies. Mitch later told me, “Dad, what a cool idea. If I get another dog, I want to do the same thing.”
This good man, knowing our son was home on hospice and running out of time, came to our home to cheer Mitch up and offer a smile or two. Mitch laughed and laughed as he watched his tiny puppy bark and jump about as if she were a credible match to her much larger play friend. In Marlie’s mind, she was as big as or bigger than Dragon. It didn’t matter that Dragon’s head was about as big as Marlie’s entire body – she had made up her mind and that was it.
Unaware of his size and relative strength, Dragon’s playful paw would knock Marlie over and she would summersault forward a time or two. Like a snowflake or tiny ninja, Marlie would bounce back to her bitty paws as if nothing happened and go at it again with her adorable little bark. She was a fighter. Just like Mitch.
Mitch loved to watch those dogs play – and so did we.
I don’t think this good man knows what he did for our family and especially little Mitch. He could have sat on the other side of his computer screen, watching our posts and feeling after us. He might have also offered a prayer or two on our behalf. Instead, this good man, who happened to also be our family dentist and had cared for our son’s teeth in previous years, cared also for his heart and soul. He served our family with love and compassion. It is amazing how a little love can lift a broken heart and soul.
Rodney was always kind and considerate to our family. He never stayed too long; just enough to lift our son’s spirits, then he was on his way. He came a few times – which really meant a lot to our family - especially Mitch.
I remember walking him to the door on his last visit before little Mitch passed away. I had a sinking feeling in my heart that would be the last time little Mitch would see them. I swallowed the lump in my throat as my friend walked away. Later that night I prayed that his family would be blessed 1,000-fold for the goodness he showed us.
There is a saying (there are many variations) that goes something like this: “In all things, teach others about [God], and when necessary, use words.” I am grateful for my neighbor, friend and family dentist who taught me heavenly things… not through words, but quiet deeds.
True to the Make-A-Wish tradition, Mitch had just thrown his coin into the wishing pond. I don’t know what he wished, but whatever it was, I hope he got it.
Everything seemed surreal back then. Mitch appeared so normal at the time and the effects of DMD were all but invisible to the untrained eye. We almost felt guilty going on a Make-a-Wish trip because he wasn’t profoundly sick … yet. But we saw the storm clouds on the horizon, we knew what was coming and decided to make the most of what strength he had. The decision to go when we did was a blessing in disguise.
After little Mitch threw his coin in the water I sat on the edge of the pond then grabbed my son and gave him a big hug and kiss. Wyatt wanted in on the love and I hugged and kissed him, too. Not a day passes that I don’t show and tell my kids how much I love them. Not a single day.
Mitch was a little overwhelmed by all that was happening. As far as he was concerned, he was pretty-much normal and he wondered why everyone was making such a fuss about him. But Mitch didn’t know what the doctors knew – that the path that lay at my son’s feet would soon become treacherous and one day his path would end.
When I was younger and envisioned my future, my heart wasn’t set on having a big home or fancy cars; I just wanted children to call my own. I wanted to be a father. I have had many professional titles in my life and none of them mean as much to me as father. I would sooner hear the word “Dad” from my children’s voices than any title or accolade the world could offer. I would give up everything I have if that meant I could be a father to Mitch for one more day.
There is a saying that goes: “the real measure of your wealth is how much you’d be worth if you lost all your money.” When I look at my wife and children I feel like I’m the wealthiest man on earth. And if love is a measure of real wealth, than I am rich indeed – and I will spend the rest of my life sharing my love in word and deed.
Last summer Ethan got a little motorcycle to tool around on. He loved the sport and his thoughtful mother arranged to surprise Ethan for his birthday. We did a great job selling Ethan that he’d never get one because it was too dangerous, etc. He had given up asking for one – which made the surprise all the sweeter. With the help of some amazing neighbors who helped source and assemble the motorcycle (thank you Seth Lloyd), Ethan had the surprise of his life.
Little Wyatt, who is now fast approaching the age of Mitch when he passed away, was so excited for his brother. Though he was anxious to enjoy a gift he never thought he’d get, Ethan looked at Wyatt’s big eyes and said, “Do you want a ride?” Wyatt smiled with delight as his older brother handed him his helmet. Carefully they drove down our cul-de-sac and as Wyatt carried with him an enormous grin. These are the kind of days parents live for. To see your child find joy is one thing, but to see your child give joy to another is altogether different. That is a satisfaction of a deeper sort. If I find deep joy in watching my own children love and lift another, how might our Father feel about us doing the same to each other?
Ethan has told me on several occasions that he wants to use the lessons he’s learned from his fallen brother to help others. At 14 years of age, he reads Mitchell’s Journey all the time and comes back to me with ideas, insights and self-discoveries. Sometimes I cry when I reflect on the things he says – for tender mercies abound.
Ethan has learned to put his arm around Wyatt like he did Mitch. Every day he is shaping his little brother through kindness and brotherly mentorship. Oh, they’re not perfect. They’re just like any young brothers who tease and fight – they take things too far and their arguments sometimes seem to go on too long. They both have their strengths and growth opportunities, like all of us do. But the point isn’t that they stumble, but rather how they get back up again. Their forgiveness isn’t conditional. I love that.
To young Wyatt, on this warm summer afternoon, his older brother was a super brother-turned superhero. He inspired me just as much as his little brother.