8 Years Ago

 

On Wednesday, I shared on Facebook that we were celebrating the anniversary of our son Harvey’s birth and short life.  It’s hard to believe that eight years have passed since that terribly hard time in our lives together.

 

Matthias (and Marrissa, Wyatt, and Rayna) never met his brother, and he had no clue that we were having cake and ice cream for a special reason.  He just knew it tasted good and made a pretty good mess, not to mention his antics made his siblings laugh hysterically.

 

 

This year, I have been remembering back to the people who were affected by the death of our son.  Our church family was forever changed that year and not just because of our loss, but because there were a number of other significant deaths in the church and community that spring and summer.  Harvey’s was just the first in the series.  My relationship with my parents was also affected, in a good way.  We were able to start building a new relationship  that year; it has just continued to get better since then.  Not all relationships got better though, sadly; I try not to dwell on those, but continue to work towards building them to something better than they are currently.

 

Each year the grief is a little less intense.  For that I am glad.  Both Jason and I continue to find responding to the children’s questions about their brother difficult to answer.  I think the one that “undid” Jason this year was, “Daddy, why didn’t you save him?”  But I love how the children talk about him casually and include him in our “head count” of the number of children in our family.  He will never be forgotten and each new baby who is added will be told all about this brother they won’t get to meet until we are in heaven one day.  No, the grief will never totally be gone; and I don’t want it to be, but as each year passes us by, the intensity does decrease.

 

I’ve mentioned (recently) on my blog about the things we really really wish hadn’t burnt in our house fire.  It’s the things we’d saved from Harvey’s 14 days with us on earth that hurt the most.  We will be able to replace some of the pictures and maybe a copy of the funeral bulletin, but not his blanket, his socks, his hat, his little stuffed dog, the castings of his little feet/hands.  Those are things that are the hardest to lose.

 

And so another year as come and gone, another anniversary remembered.  Bring on the next one; we’re ready!  I think…

 

Striving to learn and live God's purposes,