On May 31st you would have been one year old.
I will be far away from my computer so I have to let you know now that I will be thinking very much of your sweet mommy and daddy on your birthday. And I will be thinking of you; of our tiny baby boy who fought desperately for his strong spirit to have the chance to live inside a broken body, even if it was just for an hour.
Will, you are in a glorious place. I live here in a world that is fallen and has a funny way of measuring worth: beauty, wealth, accomplishment –they have their place I suppose. But a part of me knows better. The deepest and truest part of me knows there is OH, SO MUCH MORE! You are apart of that. Even though many people may not know about you and your valiant, even herculean, effort to live, and even if they may never acknowledge your noble life — I KNOW about it. And I know it was noble, and important and even great. I know you are great, Will. Maybe one of the greatest. And I know that your life matters – it matters deeply to those of us who love you…even people like me, who never even met you.
After you were born and after you died your mommy was so sad she couldn’t talk to me. Your dear Aunt Bellz spent hours talking to me about you. Don’t you love Bellz? Isn’t she wonderful!? She took such good care of your mommy in her saddest times. Oh, she is good! She told me everything she could about you. She told me about your strawberry blond hair and your perfect button nose. You may not know this Will, but that detail broke my heart. You see, your mom is a nose lover – she really appreciates a beautiful nose. I’m serious! She really and truly does!
I spent a lot of time thinking about your mom after you died. She is one of my dearest and closest cousins and one of the kindest and best people I know. I love her very, very much. Sometimes I was (and still am an idiot) in the ways I tried to help her, but she is so good – she kept loving me as I stumbled along. Isn’t she the very best!? Your mom is one of my heroes. You are very, very blessed to have her and she is blessed to have you.
As I thought about how I could honor your life and honor the love your mother has for you – last year I decided that I would plant “Sweet William” in our garden. In fact, I made a pledge to plant it every year – as it blooms in the month of May, which is your birthday month. Also, your mom is a botanist and she knows and loves flowers! This flower, Sweet William was named after William the Conqueror. There is something fitting about this as I think of you as a conqueror. My sense is that you wanted to live – even if it was only for a matter of minutes. And you did it! Against all those odds. You and your mom and dad got you here and you did it.
Last year I went out in search of Sweet William in June and it was already gone. So this year I started my search in April, and I was too early. Today I went out again and learned that I was too late this year (after going to three nurseries). I was so sad when they told me I had yet again missed your flower! The lady at the nursery looked at me with kindness and asked,
“Is this for something special?”
I had to hold back the tears to tell her,
“Yes, it is.”
She responded,
“I could tell.”
Wasn’t that sweet of her? I felt that was a tender mercy.
I got the closest thing I could find to Sweet William – a flower from the Dianthus family.
Next year I promise that I will get it right.
Sweet William is like you- strong, beautiful, and even fleeting.
I love you, Will.
Please be near your mom on your birthday, if you can. Let her know how much she is loved – both in heaven and on earth.
(a photo of the nearest thing I could find to Sweet William – planted in our back garden)
May 27th, 2010 at 8:57 am
Lize, how ever will you manage your two girls in such glorious countryside? Methinks you will be in need of a nanny! In fact, there is NO WAY you can survive without one! And, because I am that sort of friend, I humbly offer my services- free of charge! Pretty please? Hire me? Slip me in your suitcase?
May 28th, 2010 at 8:36 pm
what a sweet post Liza!! Reminds me of sweet Cameron! I am always struck by what a good friend (and cousin) you are. You pay such attention to everyone around you. Something I want to do better at!! Love the flowers.
May 29th, 2010 at 6:59 am
Here’s a quote from an interview with Sherwin Nuland I found in a book called “Einstein’s God”. Lindsay might know of him — he’s clinical professor of surgery at Yale, and teaches bioethics and medical history. He wrote a book called, “How We Die” which, after having read this interview, I want very much to read:
“He finds the source of his greatest wonder within the body, and he’s increasingly fascinated these days by what new understanding of the brain can reveal about what makes us human. He believes that human beings, alone among living creatures, became aware over time of the cost of decay in the world around them and of their own finitude. ‘In response,’ he writes, ‘our brains developed a capacity for spirit, for seeking lives of integrity and equanimity and moral order.'”
Later he says, “When you recognize that pain and response to pain is a universal thing, it helps explain so many things about others, just as it explains so much about yourself. It teaches you forbearance. It teaches you a moderation in your responses to other people’s behavior. It teaches you a sort of understanding. It essentially tells you what everybody needs. You know what everybody needs? You want to put it in a single word? Everybody needs to be understood. And out of that comes every form of love. If someone truly feels that you understand them, an awful lot of neurotic behavior just disappears. Disappears on your part, disappears on their part. So if you’re talking about what motivates this world to continue existing as a community, you’ve got to talk about love….You’ve got to think about this in terms of human biology, including emotional biology.”
Thanks for having the courage to take us to a painful place, Liza, so that we can all have the opportunity to increase in understanding. Thanks to Lindsay for being patient with all of us as we stumble along in our efforts to empathize.
Life and death are wondrous things. Having each other, losing each other, letting ourselves dare to believe that ultimately we will be united in a way that cannot be severed — “sealed” is the word we use in the Church — is what it’s all about. It’s so hard, and it’s so good.
“God bless us, every one.”