Yesterday was a day of laughter and smiles, memories and gratitude. Before the sun was about to set I asked my oldest son, Ethan, if he wanted to go on a quick adventure with me. He said “sure!” and we drove off in search of an empty field. I had suspected we’d find some unique, natural light as a storm had broken and the sun was beginning to fall behind the hills. Sure enough, we chased the light and saw a most unique sight. I couldn't help but think this photo I took of my son a metaphor for a great many things.
Ethan and I started to talk about life. Often, on his own, Ethan will bring Mitch up in conversation. Talking about our fallen family member is neither forbidden nor encouraged … we allow our family to talk about whatever, whenever. If something on their mind or heart, they’re free to speak it without judgement, prejudice or impatience.
He said, “Dad, I think I know why I was born into this family. Well, at least one of the reasons …” Ethan thinking deeply about his present and his future, continued, “I think I was supposed to have Mitch as my brother so he could teach me things I needed to know.” Ethan loved Mitch; they were the best of friends and had a lot in common. When I think of the many tender mercies along this journey, the pairing of these two young boys as brothers is nothing short of divine. They did so much for each other. Though I frequently sorrow over the loss of Mitch, I am eternally grateful he was part of my family’s life.
After our father-son adventure last night, we retired to our rooms. I was awoken in the middle of the night on another matter - and I didn't really go back to sleep. I thought to write my son a message the likes of which I wished had been written to me when I was his age. These are some of the things I wished I had known at a younger age:
SEEK PURPOSE OVER PLEASURE
Seek purpose over pleasure. Pleasure and momentary happiness are always, always fleeting; as opposed to things eternal, like purpose and meaning. If you seek after purpose and meaning, you’ll learn to see past hardships and sorrows; undaunted by troubles you’ll encounter today or any tomorrow.
THINGS MAY GO TERRIBLY, HORRIBLY WRONG
Despite your best efforts, life will be hard. In fact, it may get more difficult than you have a mind to imagine. Things may go from bad to terribly, horribly wrong. Just remember you are eternal. You are not your body – you are a soul capable of a greatness that, as yet, you do not have a mind to know. Every mortal moment is an education to your soul. Listen, watch and learn. And, if things go terribly, horribly wrong … remember that, in the end, all things will give you experience and will be for your good. Just hang on. Even if only by a pebble. Hang on.
HURT PEOPLE, HURT PEOPLE
You’ll invariably meet people in your life who’ll try to hurt you. These people will confuse the darkness in their own hearts for your motives. Always remember what Anias Nin wisely observed: “We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.” You may encounter some who foam at the mouth in rage toward you. Though bizarre, ignore them. They will be as a lit match: full of fury and fire for a moment, but short lived. Let there instead be a fire in your soul – not of hate and fury, but of love and light. It may blind those in darkness, but will help those with sight. Not for any reason should you hide your light.
BE KIND, NOTHING ELSE MATTERS
Be gentle and kind to others. Your little brother taught our family that at the end of the day, if you are unkind, nothing else you do in life will matter.
YOU ARE LOVED
Although the skies may draw black as night and storms may threaten to devour you … know that you are loved: both by a mother and father on earth and by heaven above. You are, dear child, utterly and completely loved.
This and so much more, I would write my son to prepare his mind and heart for the for the years to come.
My son Ethan’s journey is inextricably woven with Mitchell’s Journey … and not because I write here, on Facebook. Though I write intimately of my grief journey, our lives at home are not saturated in sorrow. Rather, we are happy, moving forward and finding purpose in each day. Ethan’s journey is enjoined with Mitchell’s Journey because he was his brother and his life and death has altered the course of ours. In fact, Mitchell’s Journey is everyone’s journey who might choose to take something from it.
As John Donne wrote, “No man is an island” … to his insightful prose, I would add we are all part of something so infinitely grand … a spiritual ecosystem so majestic in scope and purpose … were our eyes unveiled, we would finally understand things as they really are and we would weep tears of love and gratitude. We would love our enemies, do good to those that hurt us, and fall on our knees in sorrow for those who we might have hurt. We would accept our life's struggles as a necessary crucible for growth and change.
It wasn't long ago my dear wife came into my basement office and handed me a sealed envelope. It was another breadcrumb left behind by our tender son that had been sitting in a small stack of papers waiting to be organized. On the front of the envelope was Mitchell’s handwriting in purple crayon addressed to his best friend Luke. As my wife gestured me to open it, my hands trembled a little. Actually, they trembled a lot. This undelivered letter was from Mitchie’s last real birthday (April 29th 2012).
As I opened the envelope and then the carefully folded paper, I felt that all-too-familiar lump in my throat begin to grow. Swallowing suddenly became difficult and the air became as thin as Jupiter's. The last person to touch that paper was my dear son – and my fingers trembled with grief. Mitchell’s sweet letter read, “Dear Luke, I am so sorry. Will you still be my friend? I really want to play with you. :-) I really want you to come to my birthday party this Friday.”
Beneath the hand written letter were balloons for those he invited or near to his mind. Included were his brothers and sister, and Derik and David (two young boys who live just down the street). Floating above the other balloons were two; one for Mitch and another for Luke – as if to symbolize their special friendship and olive branch. As if his carefully drawn artwork weren't enough, Mitch re-traced his letters with different colors to show that he really cared. I love children.
Mitch and Luke almost always got along, but because they were human they also had disagreements from time-to-time. Clearly, this was one of those moments. A childhood indiscretion was noted, a soft petition for forgiveness was made … and my heart swelled to see the innocence of children on display.
In the grand scheme of things their disagreement was hardly a speed bump … but to Mitch, a young boy who treasured his relationships, it was a mogul turned mountain and he wanted to make it right. Luke, was ever the faithful, forgiving friend to Mitch and they always seemed to bounce back quickly if there was ever a disagreement on either side.
I’ll never forget when Luke stood at the foot of Mitchell’s bed the evening before he passed away to say goodbye and share how much he loved him. That was a moment that brought me to my knees and broke my soul into smithereens. Never had I seen a more powerful gesture of brotherly love among humans. I pray that I never have to see such a sight again.
I admire the absolute goodness of children. If only adults could be as grown up as our little ones are at times. Emma Goldman wrote, "No one has yet fully realized the wealth of sympathy, kindness and generosity hidden in the soul of a child. The effort of every true education should be to unlock that treasure." At least to me, this handwritten note from my son (a letter that could have been written by any one of your children), is a master class in what it means to be human. Mitch and Luke taught me through crayon and pencil that to forgive is to truly live.
Any more, it seems the older I get the more I find myself trying to unlearn what the world has taught me and re-learn what children demonstrate so naturally.
When I took this photo, little Mitch and Ethan were racing down a slippy-slide on their tummies. I loved watching these little kids be kids.
At one point they decided to slide down together at the same time. When they reached the bottom they both sat up and laughed as only little boys know to do. Ethan then reached around his little brother and gave him a big hug. Mitch smiled and hugged him back, then a few seconds later kissed him on the cheek. I posted that photo some time ago.
As I watched these little brothers, my little boys, be good to each other my heart swelled with a love that was eternal – a kind of love that is not from this place. I don’t know what little Mitch was thinking at the moment of this photo, but I can’t help but wonder if he was learning love.
Mitch was a quiet, reflective thinker. His facial expressions often revealed he was thinking deeply on a topic. And his eyes … oh, his eyes … there were layers within layers. Sometimes, when we had father-son time, Mitch would share his observations (which were startlingly perceptive) about adults, peers and life in general. Though he wasn't a boy of many words, and his vocabulary was limited to that of a young child, he had moments where his words were deeper than deep.
There was one point in Mitchell’s young life, not too long before we discovered his heart was in trouble, he had an aide who was unkind to him. In fact, from what I can tell, she was rude and borderline abusive to him. It broke my heart to learn such things. When we learned of the trouble Mitch was having and the things she did and said, you can bet we intervened. To my dismay, this woman never owned up to her behavior and had a pocket-full of cheap excuses. She was reassigned. I was sad for her and confused why she would be unkind to a little boy who struggled in ways healthy children did not. As I struggled to understand why she was the way she was, I remembered the saying “those who hurt people, hurt.”
My point isn't to excite Mitchell’s Journey readers to anger that someone would be unkind to Mitch. Please, let that go. Instead, I want to draw focus to Mitchell’s response to those who were unkind to him. When I asked Mitch how he felt about things he said, “Dad, I just try to see with my heart.” I was taken aback by his statement and asked, “What do you mean, son?” Mitch replied, “When you see with your heart, you see everything that matters. She doesn't mean to be rude.” He didn't know what else to say or how to describe how he was feeling – but I could tell he had already forgiven the woman who was unkind. He saw more than I saw. He saw a soul in need of love and understanding. I remember crying when Mitch shared his thoughts of forgiveness and love. I said to my son, “Mitch, who were you before you came here?” I had the feeling his soul, wrapped inside that broken body, was much older than mine. With that, I kissed him on the forehead and we drove to an ice cream shop and talked about some upcoming movies he wanted to see.
When you see with your heart, you see everything that matters. Wow. I wasn't seeing with my heart, but instead my troubled mind. I was upset and, in truth, I had feelings of recrimination. But Mitch saw something different … he saw with his heart and that freed his heart from anger.
I have been hurt a time or two in my life. I know how intoxicating anger can be and the prison it can become. I also know when people do us wrong the very act of forgiveness might seem nearly impossible. But Mitch taught me how to see with my heart and remember that we all come from the same place and we all have the same Father.
Though we may be strangers in life, when we see with our heart we realize we are no different than these brothers in this photo. We are family ... a human family with a common spiritual source and we are here to learn love. When I remember that, when I see with my heart, I see everything that matters.
Over the last 10 years, I've collected love notes and hate mail from my kids. This one, from 2008, shows Ethan really mad at me. I responded with a picture and words attempting to help him understand why I was frustrated, but more importantly that I loved him.
We've always encouraged our children to share their feelings openly and honestly because we believe that is the foundation to long-term trust and understanding. This is Ethan laying it all down - which I both appreciated and admired.
These letters, no matter the tone, make my heart swell with love for my family.
I have some very tender messages from Mitch that I will share soon - but I thought to share this message between Ethan and myself because it made me chuckle and it sparked a sweet interaction with Mitch.
When Mitch saw this note exchange at church he tugged at my arm and whispered, "Dad, just so you know, I still wuv you." I smiled and kissed his forehead and thought to myself, "One day you'll be really mad at me and think you hate me ... but I'll love you anyway. I'll love you always."
With a few more notes back and forth, Ethan and I were back to a good place.
Family: if I lost everything I own but still had them, I'd have everything I ever wanted.
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