Today marks 7 years that we've been without our son Colin. Sometimes I think back to those years of hospitals and chemotherapy and I want it back. Back when I was the mom sitting in the stale, white hospital room watching my son go through things that I didn't even know existed, I would've never imagined my future self wishing for that back. But if it meant being back with Colin, and he being with us, I'd take it and part of me thinks he would too.
Even though that time was so dark in our lives, I don't feel it was. I remember us laughing and goofing off more than anything. We were the nutty family in the ward.The one with the kid who told the doctors, "Get away from me with that thing" and "Give me a hershey bar" when a procedure was being done.
There are so many things that help me to still "see" him in this world. Things like the underdogs, the people who suffer or are handicapped. They are not invisible to me, ever, because Colin showed me how important and special those people are. Please be kind to them and talk to them.
I feel him when I'm becoming materialistic and selfish. He was neither of those and the thought of his actions while he was alive, and how amazing they were for a 10 year old kid, humbles me. You know, one of the things he was adamant about the weeks before he died, as he became more ill, was that I don't go to the store and buy more food until we used what we had. I had and still have no idea where that came from and he was SO insistent about it.
He said many things to us those weeks before he passed that were not normal things for a young boy to say. They were very, very wise words that still bring me to tears and awe whenever I recall them. I remember that when he spoke them, Rich and I would look at each other with wide eyes, both feeling that something else was at work there.
I don't know if you believe in God, but the things Colin said proved to me there was one. Not only that, but He was there with Colin. That is one thing I'm very sure of. Someday, if I can ever write the words without becoming a wreck, I will tell you all about it.
This would've been his senior year of highschool. He would be turning 18 in a few months and leaving home next spring. My time raising him and teaching him how to be a good person and live life would be over.
I don't know what heaven is, but I don't think it's fluttery angels flying around playing harps. I hope that part of it involves somehow being with your family, the ones you love that are left her on earth.
That sounds like heaven to me.