Heaven's anesthesia

Today marks 4 years since our son Crockett received full healing and went home to heaven. I am re posting this piece I wrote last year, as it still speaks my heart. I hope that if you have ever lost someone you love, it speaks to yours.

I felt it down low, almost in a place far below my soul. That slow brewing emotion that I keep hidden almost always, not because I am ashamed, or fearful of feeling the gnawing, but because life must go on, children eat and play, friends expect, strangers presume, and weeping just isn't living. Not always, only in quiet alone moments when vanilla scent brings up flashes of remembrance of his Pediasure diet, or the high squeal of a far away drill on wood conjures images of his uncontrollable giggles, or just a heaviness of soul longing weighs on my chest and I escape to an alone place...my car, the shower, the basement, anywhere to feel, and wish, and regret, and weep, because a mothers heart misses a sons sound and presence. But this time, this time at bible study, with no one even suspecting the battle I was fighting in that back row booth, I could not stab it dead, freeze it quiet, it was brewing, slowly coming to the surface. I could almost hear it's groan as it passed the diaphragm gate, and entered my throat. I warred with the burning, defying it to surface, begging it to wait until we were alone, and the flood gates opened, and my sitting was now walking, then running, to the safety of the restroom, and then the tears were pouring, and the sound was escaping and I wept, and won only the battle to not scream that guttural death moan my body hoped to let out. My control was defeated, the weeping won, and I too, as the release was cathartic and cleansing, and mascara trails marked the way to peace.


Weeping is heaven's anesthesia.

I know he speaks theology with Spurgeon now before audiences of angels, and dances with David and grandma Dee before the throne. He and John Calvin laugh together at the audacity of earthlings claiming to understand the intricacies of predestination and foreknowledge. The 12 year old earth suit he wore here no longer restrains his ability to think or move or see. He is perfect. He is not present in that filthy grave, with the sweet soft body that contained him once, and It is not for him that I weep. It is so much more than grief that fuels that soul groan, so much more than pain or sorrow, although those too are very present. It is the knowing that God's plan was best, that He is sufficient, that His ways are not my ways, and being so very grateful. It is in the making and receiving of tender memories that my savior so lovingly weaved in and around my boy's life, that grow me to Him, grafted to Him more purely, all because of the gift of one small broken male child with soft warm hands and deep brown eyes. It is because this is not my home, this beautiful place full of flowering dogwoods and azure blue skies, this is not it, and someday I will be with him, and.......with Him. And there, there will be no more pain, and no more tears.

No more tears? I ask Him in disbelief, but I NEED to weep. I like to cry, sometimes it helps Lord, No more tears? And in His most gentle of voices, calming and assuring He reminds me that no more tears, holds firm hands with no more pain. No more feeling inadequate, no more voices of you're not good enough, thin enough, smart enough, anything enough. No more striving for perfection with your home, your meals, your clothing, your children. No more fear, fear of the future, of loosing someone else, of being alone. No more being overwhelmed, no more guilt, no more hurt, no more regret, no more harsh words, no more abuse, no more hurt feelings, no more anger, no more unmet expectations, no more loss, no more sorrow.

No more tears, He will wipe them all away.

We won't NEED them any more.


He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Rev. 21:4

It hurts so good ( part 2)

If you would like to read part 1, go HERE

Crockett’s birth was a scheduled induction, two weeks early. Knowing that my first two children were quite large, my doctor was a bit concerned that this, my third boy, was measuring quite small. The placenta was showing signs of calcification, which he explained simply meant, it was just about all used up. I don’t know why these facts didn’t alarm us at the time, perhaps because we were still in the frame of mind that nothing bad really ever happened to us. It could have been, that at that stage of pregnancy, all I heard was that I was going to be relieved of my discomfort sooner than expected.

 

The birth was progressing, and I don’t remember being in a whole lot of pain when the anesthesiologist came to give me my epidural. I was still a complacent patient at that point in my journey, and I just did what they told me, when they told me to do it. I have since learned with Crockett’s help, that I can have a say in my own care, or lack there of.

My experience with the epidural up to this point, was two fold. With my first baby the epidural layer was penetrated, which meant my labor was followed with a very bad, week long, headache. It also was all but ineffective, and when forceps were used to extract my 9lb, 10 oz. son, I assure you I felt everything! All was forgiven when son number one was in my arms.

With my second baby, everything worked like clockwork. I was basically paralyzed from the waist down, and had no idea I was even ready to deliver, when they told me it was time to push. The old adage no pain no gain did not hold true, and I was soon handed my beautiful strapping son number two, lipstick still intact.

 

Because of my conflicting experiences, I had conflicted feelings when birth story number three commenced, but they didn’t ask, so the epidural march began. As I felt the needle go in my back I prayed “Lord please don’t let them penetrate the wall, and spare me from that headache”. A sudden searing pain shot through my entire body like a bolt of lightening, from the point of entry down through my right leg. I was blinded by what was happening, and as if I was experiencing it from some other viewpoint, and in slow motion, I heard myself scream uncontrollably, long, and unlike ever before. Something horrible had happened, it was what I would imagine it feels like to be electrocuted, and I thought I was a gonner. I don’t remember all that transpired after that. I do remember that at some point during giving birth I felt my chest tighten, and my lungs struggling to inflate properly. They first administered something in my IV for high blood pressure, and then something else to bring it down again, or perhaps it was the other way around. Things went from bad to worse when they lowered the back of the bed so that my feet were higher than my head. “To control my blood pressure” they explained. Behind an oxygen mask I remember looking at Michael and wondering if I needed to say good-bye, I was very afraid. As labor progressed that anesthetist went off duty, and another came on. I remember distinctly that the new “expert” was very frustrated by all the surgical tape his colleague had left on my back, and complained to the nurse standing by my side. In the end I was handed my third son, and as any post natal mother knows, when that fuzzy bundle of love is in your arms, nothing you went through to get them there, really matters!

Soon after giving birth however, I realized all was not okay with me. There was a patch of flesh on the outside of my right knee about six inches in diameter that was super sensitive. By sensitive, I don’t mean it was sore, or even achy, It literally felt like it was raw, and nerves were exposed. Visually there was nothing there out of the ordinary, the skin was not red or discolored in any way. Every one’s first response was to touch the patch, Michael, nurses, doctors, but I would panic as they came close. I could literally feel the presence of anything even remotely close to that area of my leg. I couldn’t let the bed sheets touch it, or my nightgown, and just the thought of a shower was horrifying. It was very odd, and very frightening.

 

The medical staff didn’t seem to believe me, as they tried to explain it away with something about the stirrups irritating it during delivery. That was of course an absurd notion. They even sent in a psychiatrist to try to talk me out of my discomfort, and several other physicians as well. The first anesthesiologist came to visit, and assured me that it couldn’t have been anything to do with the epidural. I was young, and naive, but I hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck. It was clear to me that no one wanted to accept responsibility for my problem, and everyone wanted to avoid being sued. Not only would they offer no explanation for my pain, they really never acknowledged that it was real. By the third day my pain had subsided enough to shower and dress, but it was still ultra sensitive. Gradually, over time, the pain became more tolerable, and today, more than sixteen years later, I feel it only occasionally.

 

We went through a lot with that third precious baby boy, and he taught us all far more than I could ever begin to express in this space. Some, is still yet to be taught, and likewise learned. Twelve and half years after this birth story we had to say good-bye, and he was able to say “hello” for the very first time, in heaven. So now today, almost 4 years after that bittersweet farewell, I am reminded of his arrival every so often when my jeans hit my right leg just right, or my husband leans to pat my knee, or the cat playfully rubs against my calf asking to be let out, or I have had a more stressful day then usual. My sweet Savior has given me good pain once more, and I remember my Crockett man, and oh how it hurts so good.

It hurts so good (part one)

My neck has been giving me a lot of trouble lately, not sure why. Recently I woke up to shooting pain in my right shoulder, and I literally could not lift my right arm. As you can imagine, this was disturbing, on a number of levels. My shoulder pain was connected to my neck pain, and I was forced by my inability to function, to take action. A friend recommended her brother, a local massage therapist. I have never had a professional massage, and frankly I wasn’t looking forward to it. Let me tell you something, that massage hurt so good!

The concept of “good” pain has been on my mind for the few days since that experience. The Lord has brought to mind many instances where pain  has been for my own good. Times when He has grown me up, and challenged me, have sometimes caused me “good” pain. Usually that pain has been emotional. Pain that at the time, I would have chosen to avoid, but that in time, hurt so good.

 

The 4th anniversary of Crockett’s death is soon approaching, and as has been my practice for the last three years, I continue to repeat the mantra in my mind, that it is only a date. It is only a date, a random number of the calendar year that brings back memories of deep loss, and sweet surrender. It is the marking of one sweet 12 year old's full healing, and the end of his pain forevermore. It was the beginning of my pain in longing to hold him, just one more time.

 

The initial gut wrenching pain, that caused me to wander the rooms of our home, wondering what to do with myself, is now gone. I no longer remind myself every four hours that it is time to feed him, only to see his empty wheelchair. The boxes of vanilla Pediasure on the front porch are gone, and we live far from the last home that held his memory. I seldom hear his sounds anymore only to realize it was only the wind, or my mind playing tricks on me. My tears no longer set up residence just behind my eyelids, ready to pop at a moments notice. I boldly number my children now without hesitation when asked, and only half the time feel that familiar catch in my throat as I explain just where my third son is. His clothes are packed away. His crib collects dust in the garage. His favorite blanket waits, sealed tight in a box at the top of Michael's closet, because some precious commodities just can’t find new homes. His memory is alive and well, but the pain of our loss is not a raw wound any more. We have created a sort of scab of protection and healing, that will one day be peeled away to reveal fresh new soft skin that will last throughout eternity.

I still have pain though, a frequent reminder of Crockett's birth, and it hurts so good.

to be continued…..

Heavens anesthesia

I felt it down low, almost in a place far below my soul. That slow brewing emotion that I keep hidden almost always, not because I am ashamed, or fearful of feeling the gnawing, but because life must go on, children eat and play, friends expect, strangers presume, and weeping just isn't living. Not always, only in quiet alone moments when vanilla scent brings up flashes of remembrance of his Pediasure diet, or the high squeal of a far away drill on wood conjures images of his uncontrollable giggles, or just a heaviness of soul longing weighs on my chest and I escape to an alone place...my car, the shower, the basement, anywhere to feel, and wish, and regret, and weep, because a mothers heart misses a sons sound and presence. But this time, this time at bible study, with no one even suspecting the battle I was fighting in that back row booth, I could not stab it dead, freeze it quiet, it was brewing, slowly coming to the surface. I could almost hear it's groan as it passed the diaphragm gate, and entered my throat. I warred with the burning, defying it to surface, begging it to wait until we were alone, and the flood gates opened, and my sitting was now walking, then running, to the safety of the restroom, and then the tears were pouring, and the sound was escaping and I wept, and won only the battle to not scream that guttural death moan my body hoped to let out. My control was defeated, the weeping won, and I too, as the release was cathartic and cleansing, and mascara trails marked the way to peace. 


Weeping is heaven's anesthesia.

I know he speaks theology with Spurgeon now before audiences of angels, and dances with David and grandma Dee before the throne. He and John Calvin laugh together at the audacity of earthlings claiming to understand the intricacies of predestination and foreknowledge. The 12 year old earth suit he wore here no longer restrains his ability to think or move or see. He is perfect. He is not present in that filthy grave, with the sweet soft body that contained him once, and It is not for him that I weep. It is so much more than grief that fuels that soul groan, so much more than pain or sorrow, although those too are very present. It is the knowing that God's plan was best, that He is sufficient, that His ways are not my ways, and being so very grateful. It is in the making and receiving of tender memories that my savior so lovingly weaved in and around my boy's life, that grow me to Him, grafted to Him more purely, all because of the gift of one small broken male child with soft warm hands and deep brown eyes. It is because this is not my home, this beautiful place full of flowering dogwoods and azure blue skies, this is not it, and someday I will be with him, and.......with Him. And there, there will be no more pain, and no more tears.

No more tears? I ask Him in disbelief, but I NEED to weep. I like to cry, sometimes it helps Lord, No more tears? And in His most gentle of voices, calming and assuring He reminds me that no more tears, holds firm hands with no more pain. No more feeling inadequate, no more voices of you're not good enough, thin enough, smart enough, anything enough. No more striving for perfection with your home, your meals, your clothing, your children. No more fear, fear of the future, of loosing someone else, of being alone. No more being overwhelmed, no more guilt, no more hurt, no more regret, no more harsh words, no more abuse, no more hurt feelings, no more anger, no more unmet expectations, no more loss, no more sorrow. 

No more tears, He will wipe them all away. 

We won't NEED them any more.


He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Rev. 21:4

Proverbs 31 ministries seeks to connect women, and bring them closer to the heart of the sovereign God of the Universe who will one day wipe every tear. A scholarship is being offered to one brave sweet soul, who dares to peek through the veil of fear, and tip her pinkie toe into the iciest of rivers, in hopes of a cleansing bath in the warm pool of She Speaks acceptance. You could be that brave soul.

sweet baby deer

Today my boyfriend (husband) invited me to lunch. After feeding the kids, finishing their read aloud, swiping on some very berry Merle Norman lip potion, and running through my snarls with a horse hair brush, I dashed out the door with kisses all around. Sometimes getting out the door is the hardest part of getting out the door. Down our long winding driveway I raced, past the mailbox, through the piles of dry crusty leaves accumulating at the end of our road, down the small lane, past the scary dog, the neighbors that are never home, and the neighbors that are always in their driveway, small wave, slow stop to turn out onto the long country road that leads to town, a few yards of nothing but landscape.......and then, I spied her. 

A sweet baby deer had been hit, left alone in the middle of the pavement. I slowed just to observe, not sure why. Quickly my first thoughts went to the mother, and I scanned the perimeter hoping to catch a glimpse of a momma deer close by, nothing. As I passed the small pile of brown spotted softness, to my horror I saw her side move. My brown eyes darted to hers, and she glanced up. Poor baby, she was suffering alone. There was a small wet stain on the asphalt by her mouth, but no blood, no sign of the collision that must have taken place to land her here, alone on the street, dying. All I could think to do was to call Michael, he would know what to do, my white knight would have the answers. His voice reassured me, He said he was on his way. I know my man enough to know that he would think saving a baby deer was silly, but he knows me enough to know that i couldn't bear to not help. He didn't hesitate, he didn't give even a hint that he thought I was silly, he didn't act as if he didn't have time, or that he was late for lunch, and hungry, he just said, "I'll be right there". Quickly I pulled over, and pushed my flashers on. I had to do something, I couldn't drive on, I couldn't leave her alone. Slowly I approached her, and knelt down at her side. I touched her soft fuzz of a coat, and stroked her side. Flashes of my little ElizaJane appeared in my minds eye, oh how my precious little animal lover would adore a baby deer to nurse, and care for. Visions of a frolicking fawn in our yard flooded my thoughts, as I pondered vet bills, and what to do next. Save the deer, I thought, I must, what were my choices, leave her to die, I couldn't stand the thought of leaving her alone. 

Next I called my Kartwright," there is a fawn" I choked," in the road,  I want to save her, will you bring a blanket?" Again, not a "Oh Mom, it's just a deer", or "how are you gonna do that?", or a any hint of my silliness for caring so for a random wounded deer, but just again, "I'll be right there". 

Meanwhile a big shiny red F150 pulled up, and out stepp a broad shouldered man with a navy fleece, and khaki painters pants. As he approached I dared to think that perhaps he would help me move her out of the road. 

"You hit er?" he bellowed. 

"No" I stammered, "I just came upon her". 

"Wayell" he drawled "Ifn you jus leaver here, sheel ventully die", he suggested. Well, that sure is rocket surgery my redneck friend, I thought to myself, Ya think???? You mean, you don't think if I leave her here heaving on the road like this, she might just jump up, and live forever? 

"Illa git er afterin she dies and move er outta the road ifin ya want" he offers. Oh my, how gentlemanly of you I imagined, as he made his way back to his shiny vehicle, and i waited alone again for the two men in my life that would not make me feel stupid for standing in the middle of a long country thoroughfare comforting a dieing deer! 

Glad that the f150 had removed itself from my sweet deers presence, I soon spied my son's car cresting the hill. He pulled over, and quilt in hand approached the baby deer and myself. 

"ummmmm, It's dead Momma" he said softly, as if perhaps she had been all along. 

"I know" I stammered, "she just died".

Kartwright moved the spotted bundle far from the road into the soft grass, and quietly drove away. I too returned to my van, and turned back to town. Michael approached, and I told him the news. He sounded genuinely sorry that she had died before we could help her. His voice did not reveal relief, or frustration that he had made the trip, we made our plans for where to meet for our lunch and separately drove on to town.

As I drove the familiar route, big salty bitter tears rolled down my cheeks. Life is so very fragile I lamented, and I cried for a momma deer that no longer had her baby, and for myself that no longer had mine, and for all the mommas that have lost theirs. I wept for us all, and was reminded once again how very fleeting this life here on earth is, and how we must cherish it, but even more, we must make the most of it.

So, I wiped away the streaks of mascara that ran down each cheek, and had lunch with my best friend, my sweet husband, and we talked, and planned, and dreamed, and solved all the worlds problems in just an hour over a bean salad and corn chips. And as always we gazed into each others eyes, and just knew we would do it all over again if given the chance, and even wished we could. 

Thankful today for

a dead baby deer that reminded me to live,

the men in my life that run to my rescue,

lunch with my BFF,

big salty bitter tears,

Thanksgiving eve,

What are you thankful for today?

Save me a million years Rocket Man

 

15 years ago today a sweet baby was born that would change my world. When I gazed at him that day, I had no idea how much he would teach me, how he would dramatically change the face of my family, or how the Lord would mold me through his existence. I didn't know what we were in for that day, and I wouldn't wish the pain of that journey on even the worst of persons, but I also wouldn't trade any of  it for all the world has to offer. Thank you Rocket Man, and thank you Jesus for giving me 12 and a half years with him here on earth, and  for holding him now in heaven until I get there too.

 Happy Birthday sweet boy, and

save me a seat at the breakfast table,

save me a dance around the milky way,

save me a million years to whisper in your ears all I wanted to say.

Sweet remembrances

Sorry this is a bad picture, but I wanted to share the beautiful ornament we received as a gift for Crockett's birthday this year from my parents. It was so very thoughtful, thanks Mom and Dad! The engraving says "2009 remembering Crockett".

We are remembering you sweet Crockett, at Christmas, and always!

Happy 14th birthday my sweet Crockett

To my sweet Crockett on his 14th birthday

Chris Rice - Breakfast Table lyrics

Was it a million miles to heaven
Too far to hear my lonely song
Or is it just my imagination I hear you humming along
I only hold you in my dreams now
I wake up with cold and empty arms
Lord help me get through this long night without you
And soon as the morning comes
Soon as the morning comes

Save me a seat at the breakfast table
Save me a dance around the Milky Way
And save me a thousand years to whisper in your ears
All I’ve wanted to say
Save me a smile and an angel’s feather
Save me a walk down the streets of gold
And baby, we’ll change our minds just like old times
And maybe we’ll just fly away
Or maybe we’ll stay

My lucky doll, you’re in heaven before me
You were my taste of heaven here
Remember we loved to talk about it, we couldn’t wait to get there
So you go on and find your way around now
But remember I’m here missing you
Do me a favor and say hey to Jesus
And tell him I’m missing him too
Tell him I’m missing him too

Then save me a seat at the breakfast table
Save me a dance around the Milky Way
And save me a thousand years to whisper in your ears
All I’ve wanted to say
Save me a smile and an angel’s feather
Save me a walk down the streets of gold
And baby, we’ll change our minds just like old times
And maybe we’ll just fly away
Or maybe we’ll stay




Lyrics | Chris Rice lyrics - Breakfast Table lyrics

Happy Birthday to Crockett Davis

Happy 13th Birthday sweet Crockie, We miss you terribly, I miss you terribly. I feel selfish to want you back here in this painful world full of seizures, and crooked backs, and throw-up, and hurt, doctors, medicine, and therapy, but the good times, the funny times, the learning, and the smiles, and the way you talked even when you couldn't, those are the things I miss, and those are the things that made up for all the pain! I would give anything, to hold your soft, warm hand one more time, and to scratch your head and hear you laugh, to see you rock back and forth in your chair, and hear you squeal in delight at the sounds of your siblings, to feel you run your hands over my face and see that little grin poke through, to hear you kick the furniture so hard that we have to move you, to experience your sweet smiles in the morning, and your angry screams when you wanted out of your chair.

I am so very grateful Crockett, for all that pain you went through, for all that we learned because you did, and all that we gained because you lived. This world did not see your worth little boy, but we did, I did!

You taught us to love unconditionally, by example.

You taught us to have compassion, not pity.

You taught us to trust God, no matter how hard life got


You taught us how strong we could be, and how far we could stretch

You brought us to homeschooling, and a change of lifestyle.

You taught us what was truly important.

You taught us to love sacrificially.

You revealed to us how thoughtless and mean people can be with their words, and how to forgive.

You revealed just how much Grandpa and Grandma loved Mama, by how much they loved you.

You revealed how detrimental a fear of the future is.

You revealed how helpful and compassionate young boys can be.

You taught me to be grateful for the pain, as it is then that I grow.

You continue to teach me, even in your death.

And you taught it all without a word!

I don't know why it was you, that had to teach us all that, or why God chose us to teach it to, but I sure am glad He did. I am a better person because you lived my sweet Crockett, and I feel so honored that I was able to care for you for the 12 years, that you were on this earth.

You were sent here for the same reason we all are, and that was to glorify your heavenly Father, and I do believe that you did that well son. You did that very well! i love you Crockett my son, and I miss you. I believe you are free from all the pain now, and enjoying your mansion in the sky. We look forward to the day when we will see you again!

For all of this I am so grateful today.

Tell me, what are you grateful for?

Unexpected encouragement

Not long ago, my husband and I made a 2 hour road trip. It was glorious....I'm not kidding! 2 hours of uninterrupted adult conversation with the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with, but with whom I spend to little of my time. We talked a-lot....many many subjects, but mostly the kids. Why is that???? You finally get to talk, and you talk about the kids??!!?? It was good though, when you feel a bit disconnected, to compare notes on where you see the kids, and how best to deal with it. We try our best to be a united front with all of our children. We laughed a-lot, and even cried a little when we reminisced about our sweet Crockett, and what we miss. It was good, I love my husband, and I love to spend time with him. I try not to take that for granted.



When we reached our destination, we were met with an unexpected surprise!



We met a couple there that was such an encouragement to us. We only chatted for about an hour, but in that time I felt so close to them. We had some similar history of experiences in regards to our churches, and our children, and our homeschooling. It was so refreshing to meet someone to whom you instantly feel a connection. Near the end of our conversation someone else in the group asked about Crockett, and expressed their condolences.



My new friend asked when he had gone home.



I shared freely, relieved to be able to share, as it hangs so fresh around my neck, a heaviness that needs to be lifted occasionally by just a word of his presence in my everyday.



She shared how she had lost her 2 1/2 year old daughter to heart disease 18 years ago.



There was an instant connection, for even though we all have a different story, the loss of a child is a pain that unites the aching hearts of all parents who have ever experienced it.



We rejoiced in the knowledge that we will see our children again one day, and yet grieved knowing that even after 18 years the pain of the hole that is left when they go home, is still present.



God is so good, to bring people into our lives, that not only encourage us when we need it most, but fulfill a need that we didn't even realize that we had.



How has God encouraged you unexpectedly lately?

Someone's missing

Tomorrow will mark the six month anniversary of Crockett's going home. Still ElizaJane thanks Jesus almost every night that Crockett is in heaven, and prays that Momma won't cry. Taken this summer on our vacation to the Outer Banks,this was our first "family" picture without him, and there is such a big hole where he should be. I wonder if I will ever look at a family photo again, and not sense that someone is missing. I miss my boy very much, and long for the day when we will be reunited again.

Have a blessed day with the ones you love friends, and give them an extra hug in Crockie's name.

Back in the saddle

I haven't been scrap booking for months....first it was just a lack of time, and not really being in the mood, then after Crockett's death it was really hard. Pages about our whole family seem very incomplete without him. They are incomplete without him.
It felt good today though....to get back in the saddle....and let the creative juices flow. This is not a great picture, but it's hard to take one without a glare(anyone have any tips for that?). I just did a simple page about a recent day in the city with my niece Hannah and her family, when they were here for a visit last month.

Some days I can be very present, and just feel what is in my heart....hurt though it, and it feels right...some days.

Other days I feel outside myself, as if I am pretending that he is not gone...like it was just a bad dream, and everything is the same. Sometimes that feels right.

Today I pretended....

bear slippers

Every morning this week ElizaJane has come down from her room wearing slippers.

I suppose that is not so remarkable, except that they are Crockett's slippers.

I purchased them last Christmas thinking they would help protect Crockett's feet when he kicked his wheelchair.

That was one of his favorite past times, and one of the few ways that we knew if he was happy.

Kicking was good,

kicking meant he was doing well,

but the kicking was so hard that I couldn't help but wonder if it hurt.

I thought maybe these crazy slippers would help.

Liza was sick this week, and the slippers were soiled.

I told her that I had to wash the slippers.

She cried tears," no", she sobbed "that will ruin Crockett's slippers, I don't want them to be washed, I like them this way, they are good."she cried

"No" I insisted "I will make sure they are OK" I promised.

They were washed,

they were OK,

they went back on her feet.

This morning she went straight to the piano and began to make tinkling music.

I looked up from my desk to see this.

We miss our Crockett

Letter from Heaven to my Daddy

Dear Daddy,
I want to thank you for loving me so well while I was on earth, and thank you for being such a terrific Daddy. I know that no one is really sure about what I saw or heard or understood while I was there, and we all know that I certainly couldn't reassure you with any words or signals, but I did know that you loved me very much!

Thank you for all those early mornings when we were alone together, and you so lovingly changed me, and dressed me, and combed my hair. I know that often you even ironed my shirts just because. Thank you for caring about my dignity. Thank you for feeding me so perfectly, and holding me so securely, like no one else could. Thank you for talking to me so lovingly when only I was in the room, and giving me your undivided attention. Thank you for all those mornings Daddy!

Daddy thank you for all those cuddles on the couch, and all the naps we took together. I loved to lay on your strong chest and hear your heart beat. It calmed me so. You were really the only one who I enjoyed cuddling with once I got older. I am so thankful for those times.

I want to thank you too Daddy for the way you loved my siblings. All the things you did for them when no one else seemed to notice, I was noticing. When you loved them, and did for them, it reminded me of how you also loved me. I heard your voice over all the other voices on the ball field, I heard you praying good night prayers, I heard you singing lullabies, and preparing food, I heard your voice out on the beach in the waves, and I heard all the cries you comforted. They all made me smile, and I am so thankful.

Thank you most of all Daddy for loving Mama through all the years of uncertainty and fear. Through all the seizures and medicines, the throw-up, and leaky diapers, for always being so helpful, and being such a rock for her to lean on, thank you. I saw all those kisses when you thought no one was looking, and it made me smile. When lesser men would have retreated, you stood up for the challenge, and saw the gift that I was.

Daddy, thank you for being proud of me for completing my mission on earth. Thank you for knowing that God made me just the way I was, and that I was not an accident. Thank you for seeing my life as one of worth, and value, and purpose. I did all that God required of me Daddy just like you always knew I would. I taught you all more then any other human ever could Daddy, and I never even spoke a word! When God decided I was done, I went home. Now I am enjoying my reward, and I will be so glad to see you when you get here.

Happy Father's Day Daddy,
Your boy, Crockett

a poem from Grandma Cliff

Sweet Crockett

Our Crockie boy went home today

Where he can run and jump and play.

He couldn't play when he was here

Just couldn't get those legs in gear.

But he could do some other stuff

If you would watch him close enough.

Sometimes the angels told him jokes

He'd crack up just like other folks.

Or fold his arms and cross his legs

And sit there like some wise old sage.

When he was in his rarest form

He really could kick up a storm.

When family time would get real loud

He'd jump right in and join the crowd.

He'd laugh and squeal and make some noise

And act just like the other boys

And when the family went to town

He loved to just be dragged around.

If you would rub his head a bit

A great big grin is what you'd get.

His hands were always warm to touch

we loved our Crockett very much.

We picture him on Jesus' knee

A far greater place to be.

We felt he knew us Gramp and me

And we just cannot wait to see

Him run to us with that big grin

When he sees us and we see him.

thanks Mom

and thank you both for loving him like you did