Birthday Stones

Nobody gives you a guidebook in grief for how to handle holidays, anniversaries or birthdays.

One of the biggest fears, as parents of loss, is that our child will be forgotten. Celebratory milestones magnify that. While you want your child remembered, it's necessary to tiptoe to the occasion in case the pain is too much.

In the past nine years, we've recognized Austin on his birthday in many different ways. None of those years were ever really planned, I just let it be. For a natural born organizer, that's difficult to do but grief changes what is and used to be. Instead, I've let God and Austin guide us through the day.

Landmark birthdays have been the hardest for us...16, 18, 21. Most of the time, Austin is forever 14 but birthdays push us to realize how much time has passed and imagine who he might've been.

His 23^rd was yesterday so I knew it would be special. 23 was Austin's favorite number. His first baseball jersey adorned that number and it just stuck. Through the years, he's used 23 to send us sweet signs to let us know he was there.

But the symbolism also put pressure on how we could remember him. Everyone handles grief differently and truly you never know how a certain day will hit you – until it does. Because of this, I never make definite plans in case one of the three of us can't commit.

Sadly, other than Austin's 16^th birthday, we've never included other family in his day. Most years, I don't even hear from the majority of them. Maybe it's too hard for them too, or maybe they've just forgotten. While that hurts, my focus moves to my three guys – my husband and sons, one towering over me and one watching from above.

A few days ago, the inspiration came to paint rocks in Austin's memory. Rock painting and hunting has become a recent fad for kids to do at local parks. Our county even has a Facebook page where people can post pics of hints or tag the found rock before rehiding. Knowing how much my boy loved rocks, this seemed like a beautiful way to remember him.

I spent Friday afternoon surrounded by stones and art supplies. With each stroke and swish, my stress seemed to brush away. It's been too long since I've painted and I realized how much it was missed. Creating is therapeutic. I may have found a new hobby.

Saturday the guys agreed to help me hide. We decided to focus on the parks where Austin played ball. Driving down memory lane, we recalled funny moments at the field. Baseball and rocks were two of Austin's passions. His spirit filled the car and every mile of our day.

                   

 

Watching three adults pull into a park, run and play around, searching for the perfect spots to hide, even playing on the equipment probably doesn't look like grief to an outsider. We laughed and enjoyed the day without guilt. We talked about Austin without tears.

Nine years of loss is a place we never expected to be but it's given us permission to grieve out loud. Sometimes grief is uncontrollable sobs and sometimes it is the sweet sound of laughter.

Pulling into the driveway, eight parks and many miles later, I glanced at the clock on the dash and felt Austin's hug. 2:30 pm. A beautiful birthday, indeed.

Day 8: Austin's Birthday

On some level, I'm sure that this joyful challenge for July came because my heart knew of this upcoming date.

Time heals but it also makes the heart ache more for missing someone gone so long.  Our oldest left this earth at the too-young age of 14, so it is unfathomable that at this point he would be grown.  

Today Austin would be 22.  

My mind can't even stretch fully around that knowledge.  I see him in the grown-up schoolmates we cross paths with and those we're still connected to.  

Even Noah has come to realization how old his big brother would really now be.  He sees it in their neighbor-pal, who is now a married adult with a baby and another on the way.

In my mind, they should still all be piled up in Austin's playing video games.  Or camping out in the backyard.  Or scaring each other with spooky stories and wild imaginations in the shed, known as their clubhouse.  

Our world stopped at that sweet in between age of boy and man.  So it is difficult to imagine him at the stage of college graduate, working adult, potentially husband or father.

That's a world we will never get to know.

And so today especially, joy can be hard to find.  This is a day where we ponder on missed joys.  Of what could have been, the what if's and if only's.  On his birthday those thoughts are impossible to push away.

Joy after loss is so very difficult and I've found it can truly only come from God.  It's the only answer for why I'm still standing, even on days I feel like crumbling into the floor.

Though I still miss him with every fiber of my soul and went to bed sobbing last night, I am at a place where I can find joy in the memory of him.  Hearing someone speak his name no longer makes my eyes twinge with tears.  I can laugh about funny stories of Austin and share remember whens.  And I can be in a moment thinking either how much Austin would enjoy it or knowing he'd be proud looking down.

So on his birthday, my joys come from the memories we have of Austin.

Of recalling birthdays past and how much he loved a party, because he relished any time he could spend with family.  Every year his request was the same - cookout in the backyard, surrounded by those he loved.  How I miss that smile, his booming laugh and those giant bear hugs.

Happy Birthday in Heaven, sweet boy.  You brought more joy to our lives than you'll ever know.

In my job I see babies and toddlers at their homes.  The past two days, I can't describe the joys they've brought me.  I've always said, and I tell the mommas I visit, that babies have a sixth sense.  They pick up on emotions even when we think we're doing a good job of hiding them.  Every single baby I've visited in the past 24 hours has reacted to me in a way of which I can only describe as God-sent hugs.

Some that are normally shy have run right up to me, arms open wide, wanting me to pick them up.  Others have bounced right over.  All have wrapped their arms around my neck, laid their sweet heads on my shoulder and patted my back.

Thank you, Lord, for sending a little piece of Heaven my way on days I need it most.


If you're new, you can visit Austin's blog for birthday stories from the 14 years we were blessed to have him here.