My dear little man (who wouldn’t be so little anymore)…
Tomorrow is your birthday.
…And it’s raining heavily outside. I can’t remember it ever raining here on your birthday, at least not since you entered this world. For the most part, we’ve had beautiful days with clear blue skies each Christmas Eve. We’ve been warmed by the sun as we’ve celebrated your birth, lingering near the site set aside specifically for remembering you.
But while the sun has shone brightly on your birthday, it’s rained in my heart ever since you left this world. And as I sit here now, listening to the rhythmic pitter-patter, it feels fitting, as if all the tears I hold in my heart are pouring out. The sky is weeping with me.
Most of the time I weep alone now. When I feel the depths of your absence, I’m by myself in the car, on a solitary walk, bathing, or laying in bed alone. It feels safest to grieve alone.
But I feel God weeping with me. Still.
He sees me. He sees my heartache. He knows. He understands. He cares. He doesn’t expect me to feel anything other than the real, vulnerable emotions that accompany my love for you, a love that supersedes time and space. My hurt makes sense to him. He is with me. He is truly with me, not only in presence but as a partner in my sorrow.
I knew you so well at age two, Juddy, but I have no idea what you’d be like at age twelve. How can that be?! I’m your mama! I should know my boy! I want to know my boy…
I’ve been hurting a lot over the redundancy of your birthdays. This is the tenth one without you. Other than potential rain tomorrow, it looks the same. There are moments I don’t want to do this anymore. It exhausts me. I’m tired of celebrating without you. However, most moments I can’t imagine anything else. It feels right. It’s what Christmas Eve has become…celebrating the boy you were, wondering about the boy you’d be, and longing for the boy you are.
Oh how I long for the boy you are…when I will fully know you and all the mysteries surrounding your life and death will be no more. And I long for my Savior who will fully unveil His glory, shedding light in all the dark, obscure places that brings this weeping.
But for now I weep. Still. And tonight the earth weeps with me.
I love you so much, my Jud Bud.
With all my heart,
Mommy
I am so sorry that you still hurt so much but your faith must be invincible and certainly shines out to those of us stumbling along a simliar path
Judson will always be with you and you know that he will never know any more pain. God bless you and all those who grieve. X
I I have no meaningful words. Just sending you a virtual ((HUG))! Your book meant so so much to me and brought me out of my pit of despair yet thank you seems so stupid to say! So I’m not going to say it! 🙂
I can only imagine the pain that you go through every Christmas Eve thinking about that sweet little boy. Judson what a sweet little boy, he looks down at you every day and hopes the pain will continue to lessen. I lost my grandma this year and Christmas was very difficult without her being there. Losing someone we love is so hard, but thankfully God gives us strength to make it through each day and know that one day we will be with them again. ❤️
I continue to weep with you Christina . . . . . love aunt Sue 🙁
My heart still hurts for you…………for my precious little friend, Judson. I can not imagine the thoughts that go through your mind – about what he would have been like at age 12…………and the HOPE of knowing that you will some day see him again. What JOY that will be! I love you my friend.
And I still grieve with you, Christina. Thank you for continuing to share what grief looks like with us. It is a gift and I wish there was more that we, your friends, could do for you. I’m convinced Jud would have been amazing at age 12 and you would have appreciated his nuances and uniqueness so much! You are a good, thoughtful and intentional mama. May you be blessed and experience that supernatural peace, friend.
I just read Judsons story and now your letter to a 12 year old Jud. I am weeping with you for what was and what could have been. That little boy was a genius!! Your grief is raw and your faith is strong……(((hugs))) to you from me….a mother who can only imagine how you hurt. Looking forward to meeting both you and Judson one day when the heavens meet the earth. Until then take comfort in the fact that he celebrates his birthday with and on the same day as our savior, Jesus Christ I’d like the think that my momma made their cake this year in heaven, it was her second Christmas in heaven
Thank you for your sweet works, April. We love the picture of your momma making Jesus and Judson a cake on their birthday!
It just breaks my heart…such a little package full of life and love and curiosity. Judson deserved a childhood, the opportunity to grow and learn. Prayers…so many thoughts…
I came across Judson’s story years ago. It moved me greatly. You and your family’s faith and strength amazed me. Watching the videos of him and hearing you and your husband share the story brought such a range of emotions. I thought of Judson today and wanted to check and see how y’all are doing and saw this post. I’m crying but am glad God is continuing to bring you strength. I pray y’all never lose it. The world is so much better because of it. May God Bless y’all until the day you get to wrap your arms around Judson again and hold him.
I’m touched on a number of levels, Chris. First, that Judson came to mind after several years and that you took the time to follow up and check on us. Second, that you allowed Jud to impact your heart in a significant way. And third, for your words of encouragement. It means more that you can imagine. Thank you! -Christina, Jud’s Mom