Elephants: The Second Child

This "elephants" series began at the first year anniversary of my son's death. I anxiously anticipated it with fear and trembling not knowing how I would handle re-living such a horrible time in my life. My counselor told me the story of elephants when I was speaking to her about my anxiety on this significant date. She told me elephants remember where their loved ones remains are and every year they go to the bones and cradle and caress them lovingly. It's as if they are remembering them with the sweetest of memories and all they meant to them. Never before did I think I could relate to the memory of an elephant. But on or around February 9th, I lovingly remember my boy.

As I sit here and blink, another year has gone. Six years has passed since I held my boy in my arms.

This year is different, strange and just so odd.  This year my memories are clouded, jumbled, and not as distinct.  I have a hard time focusing on the day, hours, and moments of February 9th 2009.  It has really bothered me that I've been struggling with this.  However, thinking through this last year a couple of things have been making more sense....

Loss is a tricky thing.  My most recent loss is taking over, overshadowing and occupying my memories.  It washes together creating one big memory of grief. This anniversary brings memories of both losses, there is little to no segregation and it frustrates me.

It's so hard to explain and express.  The closest thing I can relate it to is having a second child.  A single child means they get your undivided attention.  They are listened to, played with, and cared for at the very moment they need it.  When the second child comes along, things change.  They must wait to speak, play alone at times, and their needs are met when convenient for all involved.

You see I never thought I would have a second lost child, but now that I have, he/she is taking up my memory space and clouding my remembrance. I'm having to share these feelings of grief on this date. I feel bad for having my second loss take from Jerin what we had alone for 5 years. So odd, so strange, yet true.

Even still, as I cradle these bones this year an image of Jerin is very strong in my mind.  I remember holding his tiny body, not even the length of my forearm.  I remember he had all his fingers and toes. He had the most precious lips and eyelids. Even in his limp body I marveled at Gods miracle creation. So tiny yet already formed in so many ways.  He looked like a little man, peacefully sleeping.  I remember thinking how content he looked.  No distress or fear was in his face or body, he was free of all that.

I remember seeing Jerry hold him and talk to him.  Oh the fathers love for a son is a beautiful thing. We passed him back and forth until it was time to say goodbye.  I kissed him on the forehead and he was out of my arms but forever in my heart.

I didn't realize how important that precious moment of closure would be until now after experiencing empty arms in a different way. I treasure that moment with our Jerin.  I pray that the image of my boy will always be a strong memory no matter what comes my way.

Throughout this  year a phrase from a worship song has been floating through my head, bringing me such peace in times of turmoil of which I am so grateful.

All these pieces
Broken and scattered
In mercy gathered
Mended and whole
Empty handed but not forsaken
I've been set free
I've been set free

Yes I am broken and scattered in a million pieces. But God, the only one who can, has kept me together enough, blessed me with what I have, and opened my eyes to see; that although I am empty handed.....I am not forsaken.  If I tried to hold in my two arms all the things I am grateful for, they would be overflowing. It would be impossible to count, collect and hold all the mercies, blessings, and treasures I have in my life today.  I'm not forsaken....not forsaken.


So on this day Lord, I lift up to you these pieces, the pieces of my shattered heart, and the pieces of my fragmented mind.  Take them, mend them, and use them for your Glory.  Thank you for the memory of my son, I know I will recognize his amazing perfect features in heaven.  Thank you for my many blessings, too many to count and too many to hold. I lift up these empty hands to you, in suffering, grief, doubt, and despair, for I know you are here weeping with me in my times of sorrow.  Thank you for the comfort you bring in so many ways on days like today. I sing to you...

You take our failure
You take our weakness
You set your treasure
In jars of clay
So take this heart Lord
I'll be your vessel
The world to see
Your love in me