I wasn't quiet sure how things would go leading up to Gavin's fourth birthday -- his first birthday since his death. So far in our journey of death and grief there really hasn't been any one day that I could tell you has been the most difficult. Truth is, everyday I wake up with out my little boy -- everyday on some level we feel a deep pain like no other.
I'm now realizing that celebrating my little boy's birthday without him physically here to hold and kiss , leaves me with the deepest pain I have yet to feel. There is just something about this day. This is the celebration of not only my child's life, but it is a reminder to me as a mommie of the day I gave birth -- the day this beautiful creation, formed of my own flesh and blood entered the world. This day is a reminder of life -- and now this day is also a harsh reminder of death.
So here I am now, the night before my little boy was born just four years ago. My heart feels like it has been ripped out of my chest as I am flooded with memories of past years, past birthdays -- past celebrations. In the past years I have always written a letter to my sweet boy -- reminding him, myself and the world what an amazing child he is. This year there will be no letter -- the grief is too deep, almost deadly.
So tonight I allow myself to feel the pain. To sit and remember. To get pissed off at the realization that I will never hold my little boy here on earth again.
Tonight is a night of healing.
The night Gavin died, Adam and I sat at his bed side, stroking his blond hair and rearranging his ducky just right hoping to give him some comfort. We played the song Healer, sung by Kari Jobe, over and over. It must have played for hours.
You hold my every moment,
you calm the raging seas,
you walk with me through fire,
you heal all my disease
I trust in you
I trust in you
I believe, you're my healer.
I believe, you are all I need.
I believe, you're my portion
I believe you're more than enough for me.
Jesus your all I need
As we listen to this song we knew very well that our little boy was going to die in the next few hours. We never second guessed God as to why He didn't choose to give Gavin the physical healing we all so desperately wanted. We saw right before our very eyes the healing our of child. The peace that flowed through his body was incredible. When he took his last breath is was as if God himself came down and removed every sign of illness and suffering off his little body.
We listen to that song and not only believed God was healing our little boy but we also knew that this began the healing of our own hearts, our family as a whole.
Tonight I sit here and despite the deep pain and anguish, there is an amazing healing taking place in our hearts. Sometimes we just have to get dirty with pain, grief, fear, and anger to help the healing process continue on. I'm so thankful that I serve a God who knows all about raw emotion -- and welcomes it. I'm so thankful that for every moan of grief and pain I let out, He speaks back with double the peace and comfort.
Happy Birthday, my sweet little boy.