June 1, 2018 started like any other day. I got up, packed lunches, morning scramble out the door, dropped kids off with hugs and kisses and wishes to have a great day and then I drove to work. Turned my computer on and did my tasks, the day exactly like the day before it. My phone on silent but face up on my desk in case the school called. Every day my phone sits face up on my desk. On June 1, it rang. My friend called.
My friend called.
She did not text, she called.
My heart sank and I knew.
I picked it up and she said his name and I knew. The sound of her voice and the weight of her words still sit on my heart. Every moment of that conversation sits on my heart.
Her sweet, amazing Noah had passed away unexpectedly in the night. I don't know how long we spoke. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that we sat in silence because there are just no words that can make a mother, a friend, feel anything other than grief and disbelief.
I still can't wrap my head around how suddenly life changed. He had been here at our house not even a week before playing with our kids, playing in our yard, sliding down the playhouse slide and making funny faces in our traditional couch picture. We had talked about their next trip, hugged and kissed and loved and laughed. The very last thing that would ever have crossed my mind was that this would be his last visit to our home.
Noah was an amazing little boy with CHARGE syndrome. Laura and John were his advocates and did so much to ensure that he had the best life and helped educate others about their special boy and the CHARGE community.
In the days, weeks, month since Noah has been honored by his family, his school and his community. The people who surrounded my friends and their children with love and generosity in the days immediately following the call restores my faith in the good of the world.
Telling my children that their friend had gone to be with Jesus was hard. Walking through the weeks before my trip to visit them was hard, because while every fiber of my being wanted to jump on a plane that evening, I knew that when the family and friends cleared out after the service my friend would need space and then she would need me. The blessing of having friends for decades is that you know them well and sometimes you just know what the other needs.
Getting to the other side of the country was more stressful than it needed to be. Broken planes, delays, terminal changes- my anxiety grew but I made it. Holding myself together to be strong for them was hard. I landed and spent four love and grief filled days being called "Hey you girl!" and "Wisa" by some of my favorite tiny humans. We had a birthday party and dance parties, nap times and silent understanding, tears, hugs and laughter. What was not hard was being with her, with them. The hard is found in the weight of how their life had changed forever and that I could do so very little to carry that burden for them. The hard is knowing I can't fix it, change it or even make a small dent in healing them.
For months I have checked on my littles in their sleep. This is so ridiculous to a rational mind but anxiety is never rational. My anxiety about their safety has gone up. Dealing with the irrational fear that something could happen to my babies and with the internal guilt of not being able to be with my friends, not being able to just bring their sweet boy back and make it better has been like sacks of sand on my shoulders. I have struggled with what to share on social media because I question if my words are coming out "right".
In reality nothing will ever be as hard as what they are walking through each and every day.
If you know a family walking through grief know that you can never fix it. What you can do is be kind.
- Fill their freezer with food (easy, ready to reheat meals)
- Clean their home or send a gift card for a service.
- Offer to take their children to the park or offer to stay with them so parents can get out.
- Be there when they need you.
- Let them know they are loved and never, ever forget about their child. Remember them, share the pictures that you have of them, make a plan to honor them.
This is not the post I sat down to write but this is what poured out of my heart. Noah we loved you so much and we're trying our best to watch over your people from a far. We love you all so much.