Tag: angelversary

Monumental

Dear Buddy Boo…

Is it really ten??!? Ten years? Ten whole years I’ve lived without you.

I find it hard to grasp, hard to comprehend. I get a lump in my throat when I consider the reality of what ten years means. It’s significant. Ten years is, in fact, monumental.

It’s monumentally painful and it’s monumentally hopeful.

It hurts to reflect on these last ten years and how I’ve had to experience every single moment without you. Nothing has been complete. Nothing has felt whole. Nothing.

And yet, I actually marvel that I’ve made it ten years.

Ten MINUTES after I lost you, I was cleaning your body and putting a fresh diaper and clothes on your lifeless form. It was unfathomable. I expected the fullness of life to return to your flesh and bones; it just had to.

Ten HOURS after I lost you, I was saying goodbye to your body. I didn’t actually realize it would be the last time (this side of heaven) I would lay eyes on your beautiful face or hold your frame—the one I had birthed, held, kissed, and nurtured. It felt impossible this was the end.

Ten DAYS after I lost you, I was in shock. I was in a daze, trying to make sense of what had transpired. How could you be gone? I had been gutted and I had this huge gaping wound. Raw. Exposed. Grave. This gash, the wound of losing you, was unbearable.

Ten MONTHS after I lost you, I thought I would suffocate from the pain. I couldn’t breathe. This heavy weight of loss threatened to strangle me. I was learning to live one moment at a time, but enduring the rest of my life without you felt unsurvivable.

Now it’s been ten years… TEN YEARS! What was unfathomable, is now known. What was impossible, is now doable. What was unbearable, is now my normal. What was unsurvivable, has become livable. I have actually endured ten whole years without you.

My longings for you remain unchanged, Juddy, but what has changed is my ability to live with those longings. I’ve learned, over time, to simultaneously carry joy and pain in a more holistic way. Yet, my varied emotions still seem to reside on the surface of each moment, wherein all my feelings are easily accessible; this can be both beautiful…and challenging (the tears still spill out of me without warning). But because of you, my sweet boy, I experience all of life with greater depth of feeling,

And I deeply feel your absence, Jud Bud. With every breath. Still. But I’ve been doing this for ten years now. I. Have. Been. Doing. This. For. Ten. Years. And I will keep doing this until we are reunited in the presence of the One who holds you now.

It’s monumental, my sweet boy. Ten years without you is monumental. But what’s even more monumental is YOU. You continue to be a monument of God’s love, faithfulness, joy, and hope. I love you so much, Buddy Boo!

With all my heart,
Mommy

Tags angelversary, grief, letters to loved ones, loss of a child

Heartache and Hope

Radiant Shades of Color

Color the Wolrd

My dear Buddy Boo…

I miss you so, so much.

Nine years. You’ve be home with Jesus for nine years now.

I got blind-sided by my grief yesterday at church. The second song began and the floodgates opened; I was a blubbering mess. It actually caught me a bit by surprise, as though I was a piñata—suddenly struck—and all that’s held inside came tumbling out. I couldn’t stop. Sorrow spilled from me.

And those emotions are always inside. The triggers vary. But the contents of grief are ever-present in my heart. I miss you. I yearn for you.

And my yearning led me to watch several of your videos today…it wrecked me. I vividly remember each of those moments like they were yesterday and I delight in the memories, but at the same time you feel so heartbreakingly distant. The life I am living is thousands of miles from the life I lived with you. And my path took another big turn this year which necessitated more surrender. This journey continues to require me to open my hand to God and release you; letting go remains part of my process.

But I will never let go of the essence of you, Judson. My world is colored by you, like a dull painting that was brought to life. You make the blues of the ocean brighter, the reds of the sunset deeper, and floral yellows, oranges, and greens more vibrant. My world is saturated with especially radiant shades because of you.

I breathe you in with every breath as I cling to the God who made you. He has used you to bring eternity near; it’s palpable in a way I could never have grasped without you. I want Jesus. I’ve gained more of Jesus because of you, Juddy. This is the good gift. This is the joy. This is the peace, the grace, the hope, the life…more of Jesus. And He used YOU, to reveal himself to me.

I am so proud to be your mama, my sweet man. Thank you for coloring my world until I am in the world of perfect color.

Just a few more weary days until I see you, Jud Bud.

All my love,
Mommy

Tags angelversary, grief, loss of a child

Heartache and Hope

A Letter From Daddy

Jud and Daddy

Dear Judson,

So much has changed these last eight years! When you left, my heart was so broken. I had been grievously wounded, and I wasn’t sure to what degree I would heal or what kind of joy I would find in life without you.

Over time, I’ve had to learn to live without you. For a long time, that was really, really hard. But I’ve gradually learned to embrace and enjoy life for all that it is, especially in the last two years. I’ve learned to accept the reality of your absence and have come to enjoy what I have. My life with God, with our family, with our church community, in Woodbridge, and at my job is rich and good.

But it is still without you. Our family is awesome, but you’re not there. I delight in being a father, but I have no idea what it would be like to father you at almost ten years old. I don’t exactly know what I’m missing, but I know it’s got to be amazing, as I experience the delight of life with your mom and sister and remember the joy of being with you. The richness of all that I have vividly demonstrates the gravity of your loss. It’s staggering!

The reality is that I’ll never fully know all that I’ve lost. But I do cling to the blessed hope and rejoice that being with Jesus will mean that I am with you. I can’t wait to see you!

So as long as I remain here, I do so with joy and longing: joy because of the way the Father has graced me and longing for the opportunity to see you again, my beloved son.

I love you and miss you!

With all my heart,
Daddy

Tags angelversary, grief, loss of a child

Heartache and Hope

Eight Years Now

Judson and Mommy Artistic

Dear Jud Bud…

My heart longs so deeply for you. This unsatisfied ache of my soul has become part of me…part of each breath, thought, experience…for eight years now.

I was driving along the freeway yesterday and saw an RV lot. I had a memory of discussing that RV lot with you. But then I second-guessed my recollection, wondering whether it was a vision I had created after you were gone where I simply imagined discussing those RV’s with you. I got scared. I got really scared that my memories are fading and I can no longer decipher between the realities of my experiences with you and those I have simply created in my head out of my longings.

On one level I guess it doesn’t really matter whether it actually happened or I just wanted it to happen. But on another level I want my pictures of you to be real and substantive, not imaginary. I hate how time has muddied my memories.

Moreover, I hate how time, so much time, has passed since I held you. I still feel like I’m going to suffocate when I think of that sacred and scarring November 7^th, your last day on earth; wrapped up in that one day is the culmination of all the heartbreak and agony of your suffering along with all the devastation of living without you…for eight years now.

I want to feel you. I want to smell you. I want to look into your eyes and have you looking back at me. I want to hear your voice call, “Mommy,” and delight in the fact that I’m the lucky one who gets to be your mom.

And oh I delight in that, Judson. I absolutely cherish being your mom. Then. Now. Forever.

I’m banking on forever.

Loving you with every ounce of my being,
Mommy

Tags angelversary, grief, letter to Jud, longing, loss, loss of a child, memories

Heartache and Hope

Six Years Without Jud

Dear Judson,

Life without you is now my familiar (just the idea of that is so crushing) and yet everything about living without you feels foreign, something to which I cannot become accustomed.

When you died six years ago the world didn’t notice. Everything kept moving as if nothing had happened. You weren’t a famous or noteworthy figure, you hadn’t accomplished anything extraordinary in this world, you were just a little boy, not even yet three.

I remember stepping outside our home on November 7th, 2007, the day you died, only to discover that the park across from our door was filled with laughter, excitement, and play. How could this be? I thought. I wanted to scream, My son just died! It felt like the world should have stopped, that everyone should have known the gift of life that had just left this earth. But they didn’t know…they didn’t know you existed, much less that you were gone. So the world kept moving, without noticing, without even a pause.

But not for me. My heart was torn in two. You are part of me. Part of me died that day. It has been six years since you breathed your last breath and I am still not accustomed to your death. I never will be. You are my boy and you mean everything to me, Judson. The world may not have noticed your death, but the significance of losing you does not diminish.

I miss you. I miss you with an ache that is unending, a hunger that is insatiable, and a thirst that can’t be quenched.

My comfort comes from knowing you are home, from knowing you are whole, from knowing you are held by the hands that made this world.

I long to be home too. I long to be whole. I long to be held by the hands that made this world. And I long to hold you.

I love you, Judson. I love you so much and miss you with every fiber of my being.

Just a few more weary days,
Mommy

As I was writing my letter to Jud, Jessie decided to write him a letter too…

Dear Judson,

I miss you so much. I wish Emma and Sarah could meet you. I wish I could play with you.

I love you so much. I love the kisses you give me. I wish you could come see the movie Planes with us. I’ll know you’re watching from Heaven the whole entire time.

I hope you get my letter of love.

Love,
Jessie

Author: Christina

Tags angelversary, loss of a child