A letter to my son about his mother. This video contains tender footage of Natalie and Mitch along with meditations on a mother's journey to heal.
As far back as I can remember, storytelling has been a special part of our children’s lives. At night, the kids would huddle around me as I played music in the background and narrated stories that came to mind as I listened to the mood of the music. None of us knew where we would go – we only knew every turn was an adventure. Sometimes we’d laugh, other times they’d clutch their pillows in anticipation – but every time, we’d make memories in real life and imaginary worlds at once.
The magic of story was something Mitchell held close to his heart. One day, probably soon, I’ll share a story he wrote with his own handwriting in his special journal. For Mitch, and my other children, stories were not only a means of escape, they became a window to possibility, and a candle that illuminated strengths I saw in them.
Over the last year I’ve been slowly assembling some content to help other families enjoy the same thing our children did. I’ll be posting some of this content here over the next few days. Some of the videos share tender stories of Mitchell and his love of stories, others give ideas on how you can try this form of storytelling with those you love.
I share this because storytelling was a big part of Mitchell’s life. Even during his final weeks on hospice, he wanted to get swept away in story so he could take his mind off heavy things.
So, whether you have sick kids or healthy kids, young ones, or old ones … this content is for you and anyone willing to experience the magic of storytelling.
Over the next few weeks, starting tomorrow, we'll be publishing content for our Seasons Project. Stay tuned for tools, insights, and ideas to make moments matter with those you love. October's content focuses on some family traditions, November will focus on gratitude and December we'll explore tender mercies in more depth.
Here are a few of the highlights for October:
October 15th: The Magic of Storytelling. A set of videos and ideas to inspire you to create memories through music inspired storytelling. This was one of Mitchell's favorite things to do - and it's something you can try with those you love.
October 20th: The second installment of the Letters to My Son series which explores Natalie's journey with grief, faith, and healing.
October 25th: Three Halloween family traditions Mitchell loved. We hope you do, too.
We'll also be sharing more stories of Mitchell and the ripple effect of his journey.
It had only been a few short months since Mitchell passed away. Summer was behind us, and the air was getting colder each day. In many ways, our grief journey was just beginning, and we’d walk many miles in deep in the shadow of death before we’d find any measure of rest.
As a father, my heart was broken and my soul weary with grief over the loss of my son. Every single day, for over two years, my lungs felt shallow due to chronic weeping.
“I’ve come to understand sometimes I must allow my children to struggle so that they might learn and grow. ... For all of us, the seeds in need of growth are ones not found on the surface, but deep inside the soul.”
Though my wife and I were suffering, it was never lost on us that our children were hurting, too. As Natalie and I searched for ways to help our children process their own grief, she discovered Intermountain Health Care (IHC) just established a grief workshop for siblings surviving the loss of a family member. In the previous winter months, I was grateful for the way in which they cared for Mitch in the hospital, and I again admired their desire to help families on the other side of medicine. Their motto, “The child, first and always” was not only true of their practice of medicine, but their compassion for other children left behind when medicine failed.
As we arrived at an unfamiliar park to drop our youngest son off, we noticed balloons surrounding their gathering point. “It must be them,” Natalie said with a comforting tone. Wyatt, unsure he wanted to be there, looked out the window and didn’t say a thing. None of us wanted to be there. We just wanted things the way they used to be.
Wyatt stood on the perimeter of the park, unsure of strangers and what to expect. Suddenly, one of the staff members said, “Hey catch this!” A Frisbee was hurled toward Wyatt, who then crouched and caught the flying disc as he smiled. Within moments, other staff members gathered around Wyatt and began playing with him. They went from being strangers to friends in a matter of minutes.
I had a hard time keeping my emotions at bay as I saw my tender son hurting in his own way and I felt a deep measure of gratitude for these professionals who understood that there is more to medicine than biology and chemistry … that we must also care for the mind and heart, too. Wyatt began to heal that day – and my heart was grateful.
I have learned the collateral of loss goes far beyond a mother and father’s sorrow. Children suffer in their own way and in their own time – which makes parental grief even more complicated. We not only grieve over the loss of a fallen child, but we also grieve over the pain our surviving children experience. I won’t detail such complications in this post – but I will say that even six months after the death of a child, the hell of such grief is only just beginning.
Despite the collateral damage of loss – which damage, on the surface, can seem significant; there are also collateral gains – if we soften our hearts and seek to understand the meaning of things. I believe hard things happen because God not only wants us to be strong, He wants us to become compassionate. The collateral of loss is emotional pain … but there is also spiritual gain.
C.S. Lewis once observed, “The problem of reconciling human suffering with the existence of a God who loves, is only insoluble so long as we attach a trivial meaning to the word "love." When I think of my own parenting experience, I’ve come to understand sometimes I must allow my children to struggle so that they might learn and grow. That, too, is love. For all of us, the seeds in need of growth are ones not found on the surface, but deep inside the soul.