Time Heals Wounds, Not Hunger

In the year since Jacob’s death, I have been offended on several occasions (and astounded on others) at the things that people have said to my wife and me regarding Jacob’s passing.  At the top of the list was a comment implying that our lives might be easier now that we no longer need to care for our son.  I’ve come to realize that most of these comments are well-meaning and that they stem from a lack of understanding.  Fortunately, most people haven’t experienced the death of their child and they lack the ability to accurately imagine what such a soul-wrenching experience might be like.

One of the biggest misconceptions that people seem to have is that our longing for our son will somehow dissipate with time.  Just a few short months after Jacob’s passing, most people seemed to believe that Jennifer and I should be “getting over it” and “moving on”.  I believe that this sentiment found its source in the old adage that “time heals all wounds”.  While it may be true that time heals wounds, it does little to help with hunger—and losing a child is more like a soul-gnawing hunger than a simple wound.

Don’t get me wrong.  There are aspects of losing a child that create deep wounds in your spirit.  Holding our son as he took his last breath, closing his casket, and burying him six days before Christmas was blunt-force trauma.  It created deep, horrible gnashes in my psyche—gaping wounds.  Those wounds have, to some degree, begun to heal over time.  The nightmares have become a little less constant and the anxiety attacks have become fewer and further between.

However, the insatiable longing to be with Jacob only seems to become more pronounced over time.  As with being denied food, it is difficult to think about anything else other than the emptiness he has left within me.  In the first few weeks after losing our sweet Jacob I was traumatized by the reality that he was gone.  Now, however, I am living that reality.  I am not just anticipating holidays and special days passing by without him—I am experiencing those days and every hour that passes by without him here. The hunger to hold him hasn’t lessened with time; if anything it has increased as the time since I last held him grows longer.  It is that hunger that makes it difficult to concentrate, difficult to sleep, and difficult to remember even simple things.

When Jennifer and I decided to create this journal, we did so for the purpose of ensuring that Jacob’s light would continue to be shared with the world even after he had left it.  He glowed so brightly and had so much to give; he was and is so much bigger than the short life that he lived. It seemed imperative that we record the lessons he had taught us so that we would never forget them.

Today, however, marks one year since I last squeezed Jacob’s little hand and listened to him breathe.  Today marks one year since his death, and today I am not feeling so strong.  Next week, I will try to once again focus on the insights and inspiration that God blessed us with through Jacob’s example.  But today, I hope that God and Jacob will forgive me for failing to focus on my blessings.  Today, I am just a father desperately missing my son.

I miss how excited he got about absolutely everything.

I miss the face that he would make when he turned in his bed to kiss me goodnight.

I miss how he would race to the door shouting my name when I came home at night.

I miss the sound of his voice and the amazing sound of his laughter.

I miss how he would dance.

I miss seeing him on his Big Wheel and playing with him on the trampoline.

I miss how he would get everyone’s attention to show off his gymnastics and eating skills.

I miss how much he adored Thomas the Train, Phineas & Ferb, and Lighting McQueen.

I miss how much he loved everyone.

I miss his ability to light up a room and the darkest of days.

I miss his hugs and his kisses.

I miss my sweet, innocent, beautiful, strong, wonderful son.



Yes, next week, I will try to focus on the blessings in my life—the gift of my son, my wonderful wife, our other beautiful children, and perhaps most especially the gift of God’s only Begotten Son who made it possible for me to be with my sweet Jacob again someday.  But today, I am succumbing to the pangs of hunger—hunger to hold my boy.  Today, I am famished for his laughter.  Today, I am starving to see my son.

Celebrating Cub's Birthday

We take birthday celebrations seriously in our home.  We believe that it is important to celebrate the gift that each life is.  On the day of each child’s birthday, our family celebrates by eating out and with an activity of the birthday
child’s choosing.   Before the traditional blowing out of birthday candles and eating of birthday cake, the birthday child would open their gifts.  However, with each of the children receiving gifts for both their birthday and Christmas, we realized a few years ago that they no longer needed “things” but more alone time with mom and dad.  Now they are given the choice between gifts or a “birthday date.”   A birthday date usually happens the weekend following their birthday and consists of meals out, a full day activity of their choice and a night in a hotel with a swimming pool…all with just the birthday child and mom and dad.  The kids have loved this new opportunity and since we introduced this new birthday choice several years ago, they have each chosen this option over birthday gifts.  It is a special time that they look forward to.  And so do I. 

Jacob’s birthday is tomorrow.  We have had so much trepidation as this day fast approaches.  We are not sure how to celebrate his birthday when he will not be here to eat his favorite Chick-fil-a nuggets, jump on the large blow-up toys at Kangaroo Zoo, blow out his candles MULTIPLE times (that was his favorite part…no matter who’s birthday it was!), or dive into his Thomas the Train birthday cake with enormous gusto and appreciation for fine frosting.  We know that we want to celebrate the life of our little Jacob, but the question is “how?” 

Last week we called our children together for a family council to decide how we wanted to celebrate Jacob’s birthday.  We talked about what his life meant to us and to all those that knew him.  I asked my children, “What is Jacob’s legacy? What did we learn from him?  What was his gift to the world?” The answer was obvious and immediate.  Jacob loved.  He loved everyone, without any reservations, holding nothing back.  When we asked friends what they remember most about Jacob, their answers were the same.  They remember being loved and hugged by Jacob.   Jacob was the perfect example of someone who loves unconditionally. 

There was our answer.  Jacob’s legacy is that of love and hugs.  That is how we will celebrate his birthday.  We will share Jacob’s legacy of love. 

We wanted to share something that would represent a “hug.”  Something safe and warm that could be used over and over to remind the receiver that they are loved and thought about.  We thought back to the blankets that we received from loved ones at the time of Jacob’s passing.  These blankets helped to give us security during a time when everything seemed so uncertain.  They kept us warm when the weather outside resembled the cold empty feeling that we felt inside.  The bright colors lifted our spirits and soft fabric reminded us of our cuddly Cub.  Most of all, these blankets covered us in the love of friends.  Blankets seem like the perfect way to share Cubby’s legacy of love.  We will call these blankets “Cub Hugs.”

On October 6, 2014 we will celebrate Jacob’s ninth birthday.  His birthday will mark the beginning of what will be a new tradition for our family and we invite you, ask you, to join us.  We will begin the giving of "Cub Hugs!"  Tomorrow and throughout the year we will give blankets to others.  We have made a small "Cub Hug" tag that will be attached to these blankets.

If you would like to help us celebrate Jacob’s life and his legacy of love, we invite you to share "Cub Hugs."  Find someone who needs to be reminded that they are loved and thought about.  Give them a blanket with a "Cub Hug" tag attached and if possible, give them a hug when delivering your blanket to them.  Our hope is that many will take advantage of this opportunity to show love, not only on Jacob’s birthday but throughout many years to come.  Thank you for remembering our Jacob and helping us to celebrate our loving little Cub!

You can view and print out a Cub Hug tag by clicking here.

Have you received a Cub Hug?  If you would like to upload a picture of your Cub Hug, you can do so at: www.facebook.com/CubsHugs.

Letter to Self

Dear Me,

I saw you today.  I wasn’t expecting to, but I did.  The image of you has haunted me since and I felt like I needed to write to you.  It has been nine months since you held your sweet son as he made his journey from your arms to the Lord’s.  Terrified of returning to the hospital where he left this life, I have made all of the children’s medical appointments at the Primary Children’s outreach clinics.  Unfortunately, today’s appointment for Michael could only take place at Primary Children’s Hospital.  I have been dreading this day for weeks.  I carefully planned where I would park and how I would make my way through the hospital in order to avoid the areas that I knew would flood me with memories of unspeakable pain.  However, my plans did not take hospital construction into account and before I knew what was happening, I was in “the hall.” 

The hall was busy today, not at all like it was at 3:00 am on December 15th.  But as I stood there waiting for the elevator, trying to block out everything around me, including my feelings, I looked to my left and I saw you.  You were walking away from the CT room where your Jacob had just been rushed in for what would be his final CT.  You had just stared in complete shock at what the neurosurgeon described as “one of the worst scans he had ever seen.”  The stroke doctor had just placed her hands on your shoulders and said, “there is no easy way to tell you this….”  And your world came crashing down around you.  After trying to process what information the doctors were giving you, you walked down the empty quiet hallway with the stroke doctor's arm around you, lifting you up.  That is when I saw you.  All of your disbelief and horror was now mine again and I can’t stop thinking about you.  There is so much to tell you.

You will walk up to your son’s room where you will be surprised to see your husband.  How in the world did he make it to the hospital in 30 minutes?  He looks terrified, completely panicked and is standing at the side of the bed holding Jacob’s hand and crying.  Your eyes and face will tell him everything that he needs to know even before the doctors explain everything to him.  You will call dear friends to bring your children up to the hospital to tell their little brother one more time how much they love him and you will watch as they kiss his warm little face for the last time.  Your heart will feel like it is being completely crushed inside your body.  And then late that night, you will lie next to your small son in his large hospital bed and you will hold him and hand him back to the Lord.

You will be carried that week, by angels on earth and angels in heaven.  Mostly, you will be carried by your Savior.  You will have to make decisions and do things that no mother should ever have to do.  You don’t know how but somehow you make it through the week and you will bury your treasure during a winter's snow, just days before Christmas. 

During the next nine months you will experience a grief that is all consuming.  You will cry, everyday, much more than you will ever admit to anyone.  Please be gentle with yourself.  In grief support, you will learn that a mother’s tear is worth more than a thousand words.  You have a lot to say, most of which will only be spoken through those tears.  If you didn’t love your Jacob so much, his loss would not hurt so much. 

It will take many weeks before you are not terrified of leaving your home to do simple errands.  You will drive to the grocery store, park, and then turn the car around without ever going into the store.   You will be asked by strangers how many children you have and you will stare blankly at them not knowing how to answer.  The answer is seven.  You have seven children.  Six at home and one in heaven. 

You will worry intensely because so many resources will tell you that the divorce rate of couples who have had a child pass is staggeringly high.  Please do not worry about this.  Your marriage is strong.  This tragic loss only makes it stronger.  You recognize that your husband is the only person that truly understands… completely.  You both admire each other’s strength and commitment to your family.  You are so blessed to have him and his love. 

Nine months will pass and you will still have yet to go through Jacob’s room.  Everytime that you try, you pick up one of his toys or take a shirt off of the hanger, you stand there with tears rolling down your face and finally decide “not today.”

You discover a strange thing…you bury much of yourself with your son.  Not just your love, heart and immense devotion, but your abilities, strengths and interests.  Where you once found great comfort in music…you will not enter your music room for almost six months.  When you finally do, you have lost much of your abilities on the piano and are unable to play the harp without weeping.  Start slowly.  I believe that it will come back.  

You will loose your ability to keep track of time and even remember what month it is.  Trying to keep up with children’s activities and school assignments becomes very difficult and you wonder if you are loosing your mind.  What used to be simple for you, will take great concentration.  Again, try and be patient with yourself. 

Perhaps the most difficult part of the coming year is walking with each of your children through their own journey of grief.  They have lost their childlike innocence.  They are now all too aware that they and their loved ones are vulnerable and mortal.  I have no advice for you on this.  You can not take their journey for them.  They have to make their own personal journey through their grief.  But you will be with them, holding their hand and crying with them. 

Your priorities will change.  You no longer care if your house is a mess.  You will cut back on your children’s extra-curricular activities.  You will no longer feel the need to attend every school, community and church function.  Some may see these changes as laziness or poor decisions.  You will see them as reprioritizing.  You have seen what really matters in life.  You have a firm conviction that nothing in this life is more important than your family and your relationship with your Savior. 

I wish that I could have put my arms around you today.  While I desperately wanted to turn and run from the hospital, I also wanted to reach out to you.  I wanted to help hold you up and take some of the pain from you.  But I couldn’t.  You are in shock now and that shock will get you through the next couple of weeks.  The reality of life without your Jacob will settle in soon and as much as I want to tell you that the pain will lessen, I can’t.  You will learn to function in your “new normal” life without Jacob, but the pain doesn’t lessen.  That  will happen when the resurrection comes and your arms are once again filled with your sweet Cub.  Until that time, be patient with yourself.  I will think of you often.
                                                                                                                           Love, Me