A ten year old died today. It got me on so many levels. He was between the ages of my girls, he had blonde hair, he was cute, he had a terrible disability with many many surgeries ahead of him and multiple hospitalizations. He was apparently the life of the party, he was brave, he was the center of his extended family's life. He no longer has to suffer. It's possible that he is now standing and running on his own, he can eat by himself, he can breathe. I am hoping.
I cried right along his mother, I felt the despair of his father, I know his family will miss him terribly. I made them hand and footprints of his poor feet, his limp and white hands. The feet that never walked, the hands that weren't able to grip but were so loved, so treasured. His grandfather took the prints with love, he hugged me and kissed my cheek, he was so grateful for this small memory of his grandson's life. I was so honored to have made them, to have been able to be a part of this beautiful family for a short time, to have taken part in their grief and stepped over with this little guy from this world to the next.
Something funny…
13 years ago
3 comments:
That immense amount of love he was surrounded by means an awful lot. There's nothing else that can really be added I don't think.
It is so difficult to provide comfort to a family who has lost a child - sounds like you did an amazing job of helping this one.
It's hard not to keep thinking about them all after they've gone, too...take care!
Thank goodness for the warm and tender moments in the face of tragedy. You made a difference in someone's life. Those are the moments that keep me going.
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