To Will (12 months old) - When you lose someone you love

Dear Will,

It's hard to believe that we are proudly ushering you into toddlerhood. This has been an amazing year watching you grow into your sweet personality. I just want to bottle up every second I have with you. I love you more than words can express.

It may seem odd that at this stage in your life I am writing you a letter about losing someone you love. But the same week we celebrated your first year of life, we also celebrated the life of one of the finest men that, in my honest - and biased - opinion, has ever walked the earth.


Your great-grandfather, whom we affectionately call "Grampy," passed away on September 25, 2007 - just two days shy of your first birthday. It's so hard to say good-bye to someone you love so much. And now that I have you, I am also grieving the fact that you will never get the chance to know and love Grampy like I know and love Grampy.

And so I write this letter. I want to tell you about this week in your life and a little bit about the great-grandfather you will never remember. And I also want to share with you some things that I pray will comfort you when you lose someone you love.

Let me start with September 24. Ma Lynne was at our house for your birthday weekend when we got the call from Pops that Grampy had taken a bad fall and probably wouldn't make it through the next day. I know that was a hard call for him to make and an even harder call for us to hear. We immediately packed everything up, got in the car and took off for Albany. I want you to know how thankful I was for your sweetness and for your smiles...we needed a bright spot through the tears.

We arrived at the hospital around 6:00 p.m. on Monday. I was overwhelmed when the elevator doors opened and the entire third floor of the hospital was taken over by the Haggerty's -- all of your great aunts and uncles and cousins were spread out in the lobby, in the halls, in Grampy's room; your Pops had even set up an "office" in an empty hospital room. Friends of the family were constantly trickling in and out. I think you were a good distraction for Pops - I know you were for me.

Wheeling myself to go into Grampy's hospital room was one of the hardest things I've ever done. But I wanted to pray with him and say my good-bye's and kiss him one more time. I don't allow myself to picture him the way I saw him that day; I only remember the strong, assertive man I grew up loving.

Ma Lynne and I decided to take you home and put you to bed around 8:30 that night. Pops said he would call if we needed to come back up. By 11:00 we were all asleep only to be awakened by the telephone ringing about 11:30. It was Pops telling us that Grampy had passed away. Even when you know it is inevitable, it's still hard to face reality.

Blake came over and stayed with you while we went up to the hospital. Most everyone was still there. Your Aunt Kerry and cousin Laurie never left Grampy's side; they knew one of the things he was most afraid of was being along - and so they stayed with him until the very end.

When I got back home that night around 1:30 your Aunt Kerry was rocking you. I took you and tried to lay you down but you only wanted to be held. I put you in the bed with me, but even then you wanted to lay on me or at least to be snuggled right up against me. It's almost like you knew to be sad, and you knew I needed someone to love on me. It was a true God moment for me. He knew I needed a hand of comfort and reassurance, and He used my one year old little boy to be that for me. You were not a snuggler and you loved your bed - so I know God has his hand in it. I never cease to be amazed by His faithfulness, and I pray you will not either. And I pray that even now as you deal with the loss of a loved one that you will look for the God moments even during the sad times- they abound, I promise.

The next couple of days we spent at Grampy's house surrounded by family. It made me remember again the reason why I love being part of such a large family: there’s always someone to hug; there’s always a good story to hear; there’s always someone to laugh with; and, in this instance, there’s always someone to cry with.

The funeral was hard for me. Thankfully your daddy helped me through it; and having you around eased my pain as well.

The bottom line is – losing someone you love is hard. Plain and simple. It’s hard for the people left behind and it’s hard for the ones that will never truly have the honor of knowing the person. It breaks my heart that you will never be able to give Grampy a hug, hear his stories, go on a cross country trip with him, get a homerun and hear him cheer, laugh at his duct-taped slippers or sneak some M&M's from his candy jar.


And, yet, you’ll still know him. His legacy lives on through you and through me. And as much as he hates to admit, your Pops is a lot like him. So in some sense you are getting glimpses of the man Grampy was – a man devoted to God and to family, a man of unashamed love, a man who lived to serve.

So, my sweet boy, when you experience for yourself the heartbreak of losing someone you love I want you to remember a few of things. 1) God is still in control. 2) There's nothing better than family to get you through the tough times. 3) Know that you are a better person for having been loved by them. 4) Don't be afraid to cry. 5) Remember that your mommy loves you.

Life goes on. Through the hurt and the pain, the memories live on and the love never fades. Today is a new day. It doesn’t make the hurt any easier but it makes it easier to keep walking.

I have to be honest with you, this was a hard letter to write. Not just because I still hurt over losing Grampy, but because I know that if you are reading this letter then someone we know and love has passed away. I pray I am there to wipe away your tears and hold you. And I pray you will do the same for me. If I could protect you from every heartache and hurt I would; but I can't. But I promise you I will do everything in my power to lessen the hurt and help you get through it.

“Though the sorrow may last for the night; joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5

Walk in joy, Will – one foot in front of the other, just like you did yesterday.

I love you, my sweet "bug."

Mom

Written: October 1, 2007