A Letter For My Son

My son,

It has been four weeks since I last touched your face and held your hand. In some ways, it feels like yesterday that you were here and making us all laugh so heartily, yet some days it feels like forever has passed since that awful night. There is so much that I regret about the morning of your passing. How I wish I could just go back and  hold you in my arms for the last five hours we had you with us. Dad was so brave; he never left your side unless he was asked to by the doctor, and it was always only for a moment. He held your head in his palms and kissed your face; he ran his fingers through your hair, and wiped blood from your mouth. He just couldn’t leave your side. Me, on the other hand, I wasn’t so strong. I felt like if I looked at you in the condition that you were in that I was going to have a hard time standing in faith for you to live, so I purposely stayed away. I did all I could to resist that image from making itself at home in my mind. I wanted to imagine you alive and well, free from all pain, swelling, bleeding and distortion. The last thing a mother wants is for her child to be hurting, and I was determined to pray your pain away without any physical image getting in the way of that. I only went into your hospital room to pray over you and to speak life to your body, and then I would leave to pray more outside your room. The doctors had told us very early on that there was no hope and that you had sustained an unsurvivable injury. But, I could not give up – LOVE never gives up. As the night progressed, your condition only worsened. They had to resuscitate  you with the defibrillator, at least, seven times. Dad told me I should join him in your room to spend some time with you. Eventually, I did. After I spent a few minutes, I knew I had to bring your brothers and your sister to see you. Somehow, I got home to tell them what had happened and got them back to the hospital within forty minutes. I’m forever grateful that they were able to come in and say goodbye to their big brother. After I took them back out into the waiting area, I went back to be with you. I held your hand and told you I how much I loved you; I wiped some blood from your mouth and stroked your hair and face. I was so hopeful for a glimpse of movement from your body, but it never came. The very last part of your body that I touched was your left foot. It was poking out of the blanket, so white and so cold. I couldn’t resist rubbing your toes and placing them back under the blanket. A few minutes after that, you were gone. I’m thankful to you for waiting until all of us could see you before you left this earth, but isn’t that just like you… Always thinking of others before yourself. Your brain might not have been working, but you were always led by your heart, anyhow. I’m sorry I didn’t stay with you the whole time. I truly wish that I had; But I promise to be more brave from here on out. Because of you, I am forever changed. I love you, Christiano, and you truly are the best earthly blessing I have ever received.

For the reader:

I don’t believe that God didn’t hear my cries for help. I believe that what I was praying for came to pass, just not in the way I would have liked. I wanted, more than anything, for my son to be alive and well, free from all pain, swelling, bleeding and distortion. I wanted him to have a new mind to replace the one that had been damaged in the accident. I do believe he received all of that and more – in heaven.



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