Friday, January 18, 2013

A Place in our Hearts

I've sat down and tried to write this blog so many times. Sometimes I have no words. Sometimes I want the task of writing it down to be done. Sometimes I sit at the screen and cry. Okay, I cry every time. Sometimes I want to make sure I record the fun things we've done as a family since William's death, but then I cry because this blog has been about the things we have done with him, not without him. It's hard to feel like we've done things without him because we think of him constantly every day. Not a day has gone by without thoughts and memories flooding back of him.

William's Celebration of Life was everything I had hoped it to be and more. My wonderful family, dear friends, and new friends helped make the music, the program, the flowers, the display tables...everything...just perfect. There was such a spirit of happiness that overwhelmed the sorrow. I wish I had recorded the service, especially the music. It was magnificent. Simply magnificent. I know William was beaming as he listened to it and watched those he loves honor him. Thank you for all the kind and thoughtful cards and gifts. The sweet expressions of love and testimony have touched and buoyed us.

About a week after his services, we took the boys to So. Cal for the annual family reunion with my family. Balboa is one of William's favorite places on earth. We were able to make him a special part of the reunion by going to the Newport Beach Temple for him. Ryan's parent's flew out for the day and it was comforting to sit in the beautiful, peaceful temple with our parents and most of my siblings and feel his joy, knowing we will one day be together again. But the vacation wasn't as healing as Ryan and I had hoped it would be. It was too soon and we cried ourselves to sleep each night, overwhelmed by our seemingly conflicting emotions. With all the stress of planning his services, reality hadn't hit. It was so painful to return home, knowing he wasn't there and that every thing we thought was normal suddenly wasn't.

The boys seem to be doing well. We talk about William often. But children's emotions are very static and their grief can be exhibited through seemingly unrelated things. So we are constantly vigilant in assessing their emotions. Clark is naturally a very sensitive boy and his emotional highs and lows are more intense than the other boys, but he is so tender and sweet. We worry about him the most because he was closest with William and he is the only one who will probably have memories of William before he got cancer. One day while driving in the car with the boys, the twins were complaining that they wanted a play date. I jokingly told them they had each other and were their own built-in play date. They weren't too thrilled with that response. Without missing a beat, Clark responded, "Yeah, but we all know what happened to my built-in play date." My heart just sank. Then we talked frankly about how unfair that is and that we are all sad he lost his built-in play date. The boys pray every day "Please bless that William is having a good day in Heaven. " I know he is, but even knowing that doesn't stop the tears. It doesn't numb the pain of separation. It doesn't fill the hole in my heart that physically aches. Some days are better than others, but we make it through each one...one day at a time.

My mothering instinct still senses someone is missing when I try to make sure I know my children are all safe. Panic sets in momentarily. Then I actually count the heads and realize my four boys are all there. I take a deep breath and try to hold back the tears. The car doesn't feel full without him, the kitchen table feels strange with a chair missing, his bedroom is so quiet, and I still instinctively count to seven when setting the table. One afternoon I called Clark "William". It caught me off guard and then it made me happy because his name still rolled off my tongue. Then it struck me that it would stop being so.

When asked how many children I have, I have to pause and quickly figure out what I'm supposed to say to a question that should be so simple. Now it's complicated. Am I betraying him or myself if I say four? I don't always want to share with strangers. And usually I'm not prepared with waterproof mascara!

The grief we've felt has been like nothing I could have imagined. A friend who suffered a sudden loss shortly after William's passing described her grief as incapacitating. That's how I have felt. Ryan and I both find it difficult just to do the normal daily tasks that are expected for survival. Of course, our sweet boys keep us going, but sometimes I just have to tell myself that my only responsibility today is to provide dinner, in any form I can muster... cold cereal, In-N-Out, left-overs, frozen yogurt! Yes, I took my kids out for frozen yogurt one night and we called it dinner. There were no complaints!

Now it's been almost eight months. We've hit some milestones: his 11th birthday in November, several holidays, anniversaries of fun trips, anniversaries of bad news, birthdays of his best friends.... Emotions are barely tucked beneath the surface. But I let myself cry everyday if I need to. And I smile too when I remember the many wonderful memories we made as a family and the many little miracles granted.

Ryan comes from a family with a couple generations of mental health professionals. We have been very aware of trying to maintain our mental health. The boys all participated in various forms of play therapy through school and a private therapist. They also were part of an art therapy study for siblings of bone marrow transplant patients. They are now participating in a bereavement art therapy group. They love it and appear to be thriving. We went to Camp Okizu as a family during a weekend session for bereaved families only. I was apprehensive about going to this camp and sharing with a bunch of families. Camp Okizu is magical. It is probably the most healing thing we have done. Ryan and I met with 3 other sets of parents in a discussion group format. It was healing and comforting to be able to talk with others who knew exactly how we were feeling and helped validate so many emotions. The boys all had a blast being boys in the outdoors and making new friends.

The second most healing thing we are doing is meeting with a bereavement counselor. Ryan and I meet with him together about every three weeks or so. And he comes to our home!! That, by itself, is a gift. I am so burned out of traveling to appointments. Ryan and I have definitely felt disconnected as we both grieve in our own ways. We understand this and are supportive of one another, but it doesn't make it easy. Being able to talk with the counselor helps us be able to express thoughts and feelings and feel validated with the wide range of emotions that surface during our sessions. He helps us see our progress too. And we are making progress.

I recently started reading a book my aunt and uncle gave me titled, "A Perfect Brightness of Hope" by David S. Baxter. I have been touched by some of the things he points out. He cites Paul in the Bible, "let the peace of God rule in your hearts...and be ye thankful" (Colossians 3:15). He explains, "In other words, we must allow the peace of God to have place in our hearts. Some remain without hope because they close their hearts and minds to the peace the gospel brings. We have to allow the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, to whisper peace to our souls. We have to be willing to refrain from shutting our minds and locking our hearts to the blessings of peace which, in turn engender hope."

I am an optimist. I know this. I can't help it. I watched a lot of Pollyanna as a child! :) I have prayed at times to really know where William is and that he's okay. Every time I do this I realize I already do know. I feel peaceful and full of hope. I know he is with our Heavenly Father. I know he is close by and is happy. I know he is needed to work on God's purposes in heaven and he is anxiously waiting to be reunited with us just as we are anxiously waiting to be reunited with him. One common thread we have found with other families who have lost children, regardless of their religious convictions, is a deep hope in a loving God, his purposes, and a reunion in heaven one day. Even in some of my darkest moments, I have felt peace and love and joy in knowing God's plan is truly a plan that brings happiness not heartache.

I want to share an experience I had with William that I have already shared with close friends and family in hopes that it brings comfort. In October 2011, we went to Disneyland to celebrate the anticipated declaration of remission. While we were in Anaheim, William began experiencing some symptoms that landed us in an LA hospital for a few days. While we were there, after several tests, it became evident that the cancer had returned. Upon returning home, William was admitted to the hospital for further tests and to begin a new regimen of chemotherapy. We always talked with William openly about his disease and his treatments. We never wanted him to be afraid or think we were keeping secrets from him. On one of the first nights back at the hospital, while getting ready for bed, I snuggled in next to him, knowing I needed to explain to him what was going on and why. We whispered our tender conversation so as not to disturb our roommate. I asked him if he understood what was happening. He did. I added that since it came back so quickly and aggressively it would be harder to get rid of since he never officially made it into remission. He looked at me and whispered, "Am I going to die?" With tears welling up in my eyes I whispered, "It is possible, but we are going to keep fighting and praying." His response surprised me. "I had a dream I died from cancer. I was happy and with Jesus. I had my own room when I died. You missed me a lot, but you left my room as it was for a long time and you put pictures of me around the house to remember me." He explained he had his dream a few days before Disneyland. In that moment, with whispering voices, I held him close, told him how much I loved him and tried to hide the tears. That sweet boy demonstrated so much peace and was so accepting of the many crummy things he had to endure. In later conversations about death when we knew it was soon to be his eventuality, he calmly and with so much maturity said, "Sometimes old people die. Sometime babies and kids die. Some people die from cancer and some people die and we don't even know why." We always assured him that we would always keep fighting. Even if the way we fight has to change.

It is comforting when people still remember William and tell us about it. We love to talk about him and share memories. He feels a little closer knowing others think of him often too. If you have a favorite memory or two of William please feel free to write it down for us so we can remember it too. It makes it feel like he is not gone in some ways. And really, he's not. He will always overflow a place in our hearts.

16 comments:

  1. Thank you for being so gracious as to share this. I feel my heart knit with yours...

    Much Love,

    Denise

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  2. I will always remember how much the other children in Primary were so happy on the days he was able to make it. They love him so much. And I love and pray for you.

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  3. Thank you for sharing this beautiful post. Your words and experiences continue to touch our hearts and we think of you often.

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  4. I miss William. His infectious smile, sharp sense of humor and his loving nature... I remember the silly times we had playing the Multiplication Dice game. Whenever we rolled a tie, we were always both astounded and just giggled out loud. Every time! Will also knew that I was highly susceptible to other people's yawns~that I would immediately yawn if he did. He cleverly used this to his advantage as a distraction from getting back to the task at hand. He would yawn (I finally caught on that he was 'fake' yawning!) and really got me going :-) William has a special place in my heart and always will. I think of you all often and send you loving hugs.

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  5. I love you Julie. I love William. I look forward to eternal asilomars and balboas. hugs and love

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  6. I have loved being able to get to know you recently and boy do I admire you and your family. Your story of William's strength and faith after Disneyland had me balling and hoping I can have half the faith he has. Thanks for sharing!

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  7. Thank you for sharing your story! You make me want to live with more authenticity, patience, & love towards my family.

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  8. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, feelings, and insights with us, Julie. The story of William's dream is very precious. I'm glad you and Ryan raised William in such a way that he was both receptive to that message and comfortable sharing it with you. Hugs.

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  9. Julie- you, Ryan and your whole family are truly amazing. Your posting is so heartfelt, I wanted to just simply take a moment to let you know that Spencer and the Pihl family still talk fondly of William and we think of him often. You have always been an angel to us in our own journey with Spencer's disease and treatment, and we just wanted to let you know we are still thinking of you all.

    W.C., Spencer, Emily and the Pihls

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  10. Thank you so much, Julie, for writing this. I cried as I read it. I know that it means a lot to me and to others to be able to share with you and Ryan and the kids.

    My favorite memory of William (I think I've shared this before) is from being together as a family at Mom B's funeral. We were sitting in the back yard and William, who must have been two or so, sang all the words to take me out to the ball game with gusto. It was ADORABLE!

    loves and hugs.

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  11. Julie you are such an amazing person. This post was beautiful and moving. I have read it a couple of times now and I have cried each time. We continue to pray for your family and we think of William often. Soul Sister has a special place in my heart.
    It broke my heart to read what poor Clark must be going through. Tell him that to me William and Clark are like peanut butter and jelly. They will always be together. I can not hear the name William with out attomaticly thinking of Clark too. When we moved from Folsom the twins were just babies, so we really just knew William and Clark. They were two little peas in a pod. In fact, the other day I had to take a second to try and think of the real name of Clark's famous exploring companion as in Lewis and Clark because all I could think of was William and Clark.
    We love you guys!
    Love, The Lambs

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  12. My favorite memories of William include telephone conversations-when I would want to ask him something, he would interrupt (being so full of ideas) and say, "Grandma, can I tell you something?..." and of course I would listen and learn. I'll also never forget the night after a piano recital when William gave me a private performance over the phone of a Mozart sonatina. I was so proud, and sure he was the best 7 year old pianist ever born! Grandpa and I will always remember a special trip to Austin right after he was born he had his first outing in a baby Bjorn pack and was so adorable. His bright eyes, blond hair, energy and smile will always be irreplaceable and unique, from his days as a toddler through December 2011 when I got to spend time with him at the hospital. What a wonderful boy he has always been, and will only continue to grow and amaze us.

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  13. You are amazing Julie! I've followed your journey through this blog and have commented before, but want you to know how loved you are and that there are more prayers than you know going out for you and your family. William was a valiant, strong warrior and that's why heaven needed him back. I've cried many tears reading your tender words about your boy(s). YOU are a chosen mama that is stronger and wiser than most! Love to you and your family as you continue one day at a time on this journey. I wish I could wrap my arms around you and cry with you......if only we were back at BYU together :) I think of you often and pray you'll be lifted up everyday! Thank you for sharing your family with all of us. You are such an inspiration.....and William was lucky and blessed to have you as his mama!!! Love you Julie----Laci Olmstead McCune xoxo

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  14. Just thinking about you today. I read this tender blog post from awhile ago but am so grateful it's still here. We thought of William the other day playing "where's my water" I got that game because of your sweet story last year of him coming out of a procedure when he asked "where's my water?" and you ran to get 'real' water, but he wanted to get his game ;) we love you and thanks for sharing a little of you here.

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  15. I just happened to come across your blog while researching something for work. Your family's bravery and faith in Jesus are inspiring and have brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing your hearts and struggles in very real ways. You have a sister in Christ in NJ that is praying for all of you!

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  16. Hi Julie. I'm a nurse at Sutter Memorial and I was at work today and thought of Will and your family. I hope you are all doing ok. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking and praying for you all.

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