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I remember driving to the cemetery after work one day only to find my sweet wife knelt quietly at the head of my son’s place of rest. The grass was still mending from the funeral and you could see the painful outline of where exactly he was buried. I never imagined grass could be so brutal.

“My dear wife, you precious mother … I love you more than any other. Yes, I love our children as much, too … for they came to life from me and you. But, my love, you are where it started: my heart, my life, and our son departed. My dear wife, you precious mother … because of you, Mitch was blessed above all others.”

— Christopher M. Jones | Mitchell's Journey

I reverently approached my best friend but gave her space – for I saw her suffering an agony only a mother who’s lost a child can know. While I carry a father’s sorrow, which is heavier than anything I have ever known, I reverence my wife’s grief differently than my own. 

Mitch had such a tender relationship with his mom. He often called her “Mommy-Lommie” as a term of endearment. He would always tell me how he thought his mother was the kindest, most beautiful lady on earth. “Don’t you just love Mommy?” Mitch would say with great feeling. 

I have tender photos that I’ll share at a later time that show his sweet expression whenever Mitch was in her arms. This little boy loved his mom. And she loved him.

Mother’s day is around the corner and I can’t help but turn my heart to my dear wife. I struggle to know what I might do to show her how much I love and honor her. Everything I can think of falls short of what I feel. I know the gift she really wants I cannot give. Though I would gladly take my son’s place, I cannot. How that pains me so.

Our grief journey so far has been more complex than I ever imagined. Perhaps that is one of the reasons grief is so difficult to process … precisely because it is so complex. If it were simple, it might be easier. But it is not simple: grief is a tangled web of wanting, longing and loving something you can no longer hold. It is a briar patch of self-doubt, what if’s, and wonderings. It is the isolation of being misunderstood or simply not understood. It is learning to breathe in an emptiness that suffocates.

As difficult as it’s been, grief has also been a beautiful teacher. It has taught me how to be more compassionate and patient. It has taught me to better appreciate light – having experienced pitch darkness. Grief has taught me how to talk to my Father as a child might talk to a parent. Most beautiful of all is seeing those I love discover heavenly gems.

It wasn't long ago I was asked to speak to a group of women about the extraordinary influence they can have in the lives of others. The night before I was to speak to this group Natalie and I were talking about our journey so far. She looked me in the eyes and said, “Chris, I remember feeling betrayed and saying to God, ‘I tried to do everything you asked and THIS is what I get?’” Natalie paused a moment, with tears in her eyes she continued, “Then it occurred to me: this is my price to know God.” Tears filled my eyes and my heart filled with peace as I felt the truth of her words. 

I have marveled at the transformation I have seen in my wife over the last 2 years. I can see the hand of God shaping her, tenderly and sometimes painfully, into something beautiful, not bitter. Yes, her heart is broken and tender – but it has become wiser and more caring. Through her suffering, she has come to know her Father in deeper ways. 

My dear wife, you precious mother … I love you more than any other. Yes, I love our children as much, too … for they came to life from me and you. But, my love, you are where it started: my heart, my life, and our son departed. My dear wife, you precious mother … because of you, Mitch was blessed above all others.

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Last night I spoke to a woman's organization about Mitchell's Journey. I was asked to speak several months ago by a woman whose name was both familiar and unfamiliar to me. I didn't connect the dots until last night when she started talking to me as I was setting up my computer. She said, "My daughter is Sage, Mitchell's friend." Suddenly everything came back to me and I remembered meeting them at Mitchell's funeral. It took a great deal of effort to hold back my tears. While there was already a great deal of love in my heart, it began to burst at the seams.

Their theme for the night was entitled "Some Extraordinary Women" so I focused my address on the amazing women who were part of Mitchell's Journey and the impact their love and service had on our family. From the meatloaf story, to paper hearts and yellow ribbons, there were so many amazing women who stepped up and offered love and comfort. 

I also spoke about the special relationship between Natalie and her sister, Sonya, and how they were a special gift to each other ... but most especially Mitch. Each story I shared drew focus to the extraordinary women in my life and the incredible blessings that came as a result of them and their selfless service.

I recorded audio of the event and will try to post it soon. At one point during my time with these extraordinary women I said I was convinced women are the most powerful force in nature. With all that I am, I believe that is true.

I then shared a quote by Neal Maxwell that read: "When the real history of mankind is fully disclosed, will it feature the echoes of gunfire or the shaping sounds of lullabies?"

In my estimation, women have more influence on the affairs of this world than society at large appreciates. 

After my address I was blessed to meet some of these remarkable women with whom I spoke. Natalie also spent time visiting with everyone and I looked upon my wife with continued admiration for the good, tender and loving woman she is. I loved the spirit of love that was felt in that room.

Earlier that night I was made aware that a woman in the audience lost her son almost 18 years ago. She sat kindly at a chair as I knelt down to visit with her. I could see a depth in her eyes that seemed to speak of the long journey of grief and healing she's experienced. After a few moments of visiting she pulled from her purse a framed photo of her lovely son. My heart swelled with compassion and love for her and her son. I hugged her and told her that I cared. I hope she felt it, because I meant it. 

There, too, was an extraordinary woman ... a mother who loves her son deeply and will never forget him. The thought occurred to me that as long as love last, grief lasts. 

With each passing day, I think I'm beginning to better understand our journey moving forward. While our journey was borne of sorrow it has become a journey of hope, healing and finding happiness.

There is so much we hope to do with Mitchell's Journey - so many ways we want to lift and help others. We hope to see you in person or virtually as we have our third annual Miles for Mitchell on April 25th. 

www.raceentry.com/race-reviews/miles-for-mitchell

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I'm grateful for my wife and son; they taught me how to be in darkness and still feel I'm the lucky one. #mitchellsjourney

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A few weeks ago I took my wife and kids to a nearby forest to take some family photos. We each held a photo of us and little Mitch as a memorial to a fallen family member we each love and miss very much. Yet despite our sorrows, we remain grateful to still have each other. 

This year my heart will still be heavy because I’ll miss how Mitch used to sit by me at family dinners and softly hold my hand at the table. I’ll miss how he used to snuggle up with me on the couch as we watched movies. I’ll miss giving him piggyback rides up the stairs because his muscles were too weak. I’ll miss his laugh and brilliant wit. I’ll miss his … everything. As much as grief weighs heavy on my heart, threatening to sink me, I have 4 other people whom I love with all of my heart and their presence in my life lifts me. 

I love my wife. She is as kind as she is beautiful. She would sooner fall on the sword for those she loves than harm them in any way. Self-sacrificing, wise and loving, I find myself always taking notes and learning from her natural ways; ways, that any without thought on her part, that are far beyond me. Each day my sweet wife and friend, without saying a word, teaches me how to be. 

I love Laura-Ashley. She is beautiful, smart and kind. I enjoy watching her explore new territory as she pursues the arts and sciences. She is learning to play the guitar, draw and write. Her trouble in life will be deciding what to do – because she can do anything. I hope she comes to feel (not just know) how proud I am of the young woman she is. Ethan, my oldest son, is a remarkable young man who is so passionate about so many things. I love to watch him ride his motorcycle and make jumps with his bare hands and the dirt. I love to watch him skate and play lacrosse. Mostly, I love to watch befriend everybody and reach out to those who don’t feel they fit in. A few weeks ago he got in trouble at the dinner table for teasing his younger brother, like brothers often do. He went to his room and then played the song, “I’m only human.” As we heard that music play in the distance we all fell out of our chairs laughing as Ethan came out of his room with a big smile. I am so proud of who he is today and even more excited to see what he becomes. The future is bright for him. Of course there’s Wyatt. He is a particular blessing to our family. Wyatt has a heart as big as his mind – and they both loom enormous. He is always thinking about others and has learned early in his life the true power of faith and prayer. He reminds me that often it is the least among us, the youngest and most inexperienced, who become the most powerful examples on earth. I know many adults who because they are educated think they are wise – they forget who they are and stop seeing the world through heaven’s eyes. They fumble in the most fundamental ways. Though Wyatt is young, he is a towering example of faith and goodness to our little family. When I think of my many blessings, Wyatt is chief among them. 

This Thanksgiving my heart will be filled to overflowing with gratitude. My cup, though cracked and tattered with loss and sorrow, is running over. Though my hands tremble from grief and my heart still quakes because I am tired and weak – I know to whom I must look to find strength for tomorrow. For there are battles ahead and many more tears to shed … but if we stick together and fight on, we'll find victory on the morrow.

Thanksgiving and Christmas are two of my favorite holidays; I love them for all that they are and the greater meanings they point to. Like anything of deep importance, there is often a greater meaning to things – even pain and suffering. The trouble is we can get lost on either sides of the spectrum. On the one hand, we can so get wrapped up in the tinsel and superficial of the holidays that we miss the point of things. Or, we can find ourselves on the other side of the spectrum and become fanatical and shun the fun of the holidays. Neither are balanced nor are they wise, for the things of the heart are discerned like an art and seen only with heavens eyes. 

In like manner, when I think of my sorrows, I will look past the paper and things I can see, and listen with my heart for the lessons of the soul Heaven tries to teach me. There is a greater meaning to everything – if only we'll open our other eyes. Then, and only then, will we truly see.