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.

Forever Young

Noah catches me staring at him often.  And sometimes sneaking pictures.

But I still can't believe my boy has gone from baby to grown in the blink of an eye.

I wish someone told me how fast time flies.  Like really told me.  Life goes by so much quicker than you imagine.  Because in my mind, he's still a rambunctious, rowdy, spunky toddler running through the house, superhero cape flapping behind.  Well, some things never change I guess -minus the cape.

I'm sure no matter how old he becomes, I'll always see a mixture of childhood mingled with man.

About a moment after snapping the photo above, a pillow went flying through the air toward my head.  (He thoroughly dislikes having his picture taken.)  Yet amazingly, a few days later, he actually sat and smiled for a pic.

I reminded him we hadn't taken a good photo of his healed tattoo.  Still proud to show it, he gladly paused and let me.

A tattoo in honor of his big brother, representing everything he stood for...baseball, band and being a firefighter.  And of course, Austin's life verse - 1 Timothy 4:12.

first tattoo

 Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, 

but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.

Noah's first view

After many drawings, revisions, discussion and final artwork by the tattoo artist, we're all happy with the end design.  Noah most of all, who moments after seeing it, breathed, 

"I've wanted this for so long."

I'm sure there are some who think he's way to young for a tattoo.  And in some cases, I would agree. But this wasn't a rash decision made by an inexperienced youth. 

Sadly, he's been envisioning this tattoo for nearly eight years.  He went with both his dad and me to watch us get memorial ink. For years, he's shared his desire to have one of his own.  He wanted our blessing and we were by his side every step of the way.   He now has a tangible piece of Austin looking over his right shoulder.  

My prayer, when he looks at the black and grey lines, is that he remembers the pattern and mark Austin left behind.  That he'll recall the happy memories they shared more than the pain of loss.  And that he will, in turn, share with others the legacy of Austin.  Age is just a number.  Anything is possible, achievable, no matter how old - or young you are.  But whatever you do, live your life to bring glory to God.

Austin will always be forever young.  He may have left us too soon but lived more in his 14 years than most do in a lifetime.

Noah lives each day with the same passion and drive.  He never doubts or questions if he can do something, especially when others might think age is a factor.  I know Austin would be proud of his little brother.  We certainly are.  

I hope he continues facing life forever young - full of ambition and excitement, eager to learn, willing to be an example to others, ready to face the next chapter, whatever it holds.

Marked Blessings

All boys seem to have a love for stones and rocks when they are little but our oldest son, Austin, was fascinated with them throughout his life.

In his younger days, he thought a piece of gravel was cool. I have fond memories of walking with him and stopping whenever he found a new treasure. He'd squat on chubby legs, eyes bright with excitement, as he held the discovery in his little hands. After turning it over a few times, it would get shoved into his pockets, as he was ready to continue in his search.

I don't remember why Austin began gathering rocks, but over time his collection and knowledge grew. He studied about them and could tell you what a rock's scientific name was or where it could be found at a glance.  Proudly displayed in his room were some of his favorite finds and he loved nothing more than to share stories about them.

These stones have been on my mind lately, as I've been studying the Bible.  I'm currently reading a devotion in Joshua and the importance stones had then.  It's even more interesting, as our family had a discussion the other night about blessings God has given us in our life and how that related to stones in Biblical times.

There's a space in the front of my new Bible that allows you to record milestones and blessings, to remember what God has done, is doing and will do within your family.

It was easy thinking of major events, like the boys' births and baptisms.  But there came a point when my memory stalled and I asked the guys for help. I'll admit there was a moment of silence when we reached the year Austin passed.  It is bittersweet because the pain still lingers, even though there is joy in knowing where he know calls home.  As we continued through our timeline, it became apparent how quickly we fail to recall the blessings of our life, both big and small.

 That was the purpose of the stones back then.  Marked monuments to tell future generations of all that God had done.  Reminders of His promises, big and small.

In this gloomy month that begins a new year, I can feel Satan's pull and hissing in my ear of all the things I've yet to accomplish.  Goals not reached.  Failures.  Inadequacies.  He would have me to focus on the things I have lost or didn't get and would want nothing more than for me lose trust and not cling to God's promises.

So instead I've been picking up imaginary stones, marking the simple blessings that come with each and every day.  And as I'm not too far into the year, I went back from the start of 2017 and lifted thanks for each one.  It's a joy to say my pockets are full and lumpy, beyond my expectations.

I can't wait to continue the search for more treasures to come.

THANKS-giving comes

We lost Austin eight years ago, Thanksgiving weekend.  As such, November is a bittersweet time, filled with emotions and memories, some of which we'd rather forget.  Instead of focusing on the pain of the season though, we lean hard into the kindness and gratitude that comes with the turning of the calendar.

The year after he passed, I challenged myself to post something I was thankful for every single day of November.  As the days drew closer to the 29th, I questioned whether or not I would be able to post something positive when my heart was still shattered.  Once accomplished, it forever changed me; because it was proof that despite the circumstances life may send your way, there is always, always something to be grateful for.  

Aside from posting gratitude in each day, we also use this month to do Random Acts of Kindness in Austin's memory.  It has grown from doing it only on the 29th, to celebrating kindness all month, to truly having a heart for it all year.  

Noah shared with me a couple weeks ago that the past several times he's stopped into a local fast food joint, someone has paid it forward to him.  And while he admitted he sometimes gets surprised in the moment and forgets to continue the trend in that line, he makes sure to send anonymous kindness in other ways to keep it going.  Or sometimes he starts the movement.  I can't even begin to tell you how that made my heart swell.  

When we began doing RAKs, I was hesitant in including Noah, unsure if it would cause him more pain than good.  Instead, it helped bring healing to us all in a way I could've never imagined and became a family event we actually look forward to.  Helping others, bringing a smile to someone's face in the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, is a far better way to spend that anniversary, than reliving the horror of losing our boy.

Austin had such a servant's heart, I can only imagine how happy it would make him to see us doing RAKs in his memory.  This time of year, he would already be asking to stock up on supplies so we could make treats for every person he knew - from mailman, to bus driver, to every school employee he came in contact with.  And the legacy he left behind for his friends is one that helped others.  A Christmas box remains wrapped in our living room, filled with notes from classmates who shared just that - how he made small differences with big impact every single day.

He's been on my mind a lot lately, probably the timing of the year, combined with the constant news of the World Series.  I haven't really watched baseball on tv, since he's been gone, but we have this season.  So many times, sitting on the edge of my seat, I could envision him pacing the floor, enthusiastically yelling, freaking out if we'd changed the channel, and celebrating the win.  How I miss that contagious smile and personality!

Losing a child is daily reality of how fragile life is, how much every day matters - what a gift it is, and hoping they are remembered in some way.  My prayer is that we make him proud this time of year - and always.

Transformation Tuesday

This past weekend we had family photos taken and I am seriously in love with them.  Maybe because it has been so long since we've done it (5 years).  Or maybe because I'm pausing to remember every morsel and milestone as Noah is on the countdown to graduation.  Or maybe because the photographer was super special and captured JOY in the photos.

I shared about our experience today, on my monthly post at Still Standing Magazine.  You can read more about it here.

In the meantime, how about the transformation...
What a difference five years makes.

2011

2016

Noah...

   

Mom & Son...

Dad & Son...

    

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.  

Signs and Milestones

Yesterday was tough.  A bite your lip, distract yourself, get through the day kind of day.

It was busy at work, which was helpful in some ways, but a big piece of my heart and mind were elsewhere.  A day spent teetering on tears - misty on the way to work, praying throughout, and sobbing the moment I walked out the door and got into my car.

Driving home, I ended up at the cemetery.  Not a place I normally find comfort, but I needed somewhere to cry in peace.  And I knew I could do it beside my sweet boy.

July 8 would've been Austin's 21st birthday.

It was harder than I expected.  Not that any birthday, or holiday (or any day) is easy after losing a child.  But some of his birthdays have actually been unexpected blessings, like last year.

So, unlike the early years, I didn't schedule off and expected that I'd make it through ok.  In this walk with grief though, I've learned there is no time limit on the pain and you can never plan or expect, it takes you where it will, when it wants.

Sure, there were signs, as always.  More yellow butterflies than I could count, darting in and around my car wherever I went.  Many dancing around his grave.  My radio is never off and every time I got back in, whatever song was playing seemed to be a hello from above or a needed hug.

Still, I had a job to do, so I stored up and pushed away so much pain that by the end of the day exhaustion set in.  Tim saw it, felt it himself I'm sure, but stepped up last night and took over roles I normally fulfill.  He cooked us a small and simple dinner and went to get the kids from church.  We called it an early night and thanks to prayers of many, fell into a deep and restful sleep.

Yesterday, I think I grieved what I lost, what I never had, and where I would be at this point.  It was coming to terms with not having a child anymore and the realization that, if he were here, he wouldn't be a child anymore either.  I just didn't have the past seven years to watch him mature into the man he would be now.

Seeing his baby brother, Noah, towering over us, watching the days fly by on the calendar as he counts down to his own milestones, like driving, makes me want to push in the brakes even more.  I want to fully saturate myself in them - with him.  I don't want to miss a moment.  Maybe because I know how precious and unpromised they are.

And of course, just like his big brother, Noah has a heart of gold.  My gentle giant, I call him.  Dropping them off to church I ensured he had enough money for the snow cone, where youth were gathered.  He smiled and said, "21 and some change."  I knew what he was doing and prayers were sent up all the way home that he'd get a blessing from it.

Getting there early, as they prefer, he walked up to booth before the line wrapped the corner and "Paid it Fwd" for Austin.  $21 in memory of his 21st.  Noah waited an hour before he got in line, hoping that the fwd would last enough for most who'd arrived.  He was hugged from above to find out others had continued to pay it forward and his was also free.  This morning I received a sweet text from the owner saying it gave her chills and many were touched by the night.

Noah and I laughed later that it would've been just like Austin too.  Never one to like alcohol, he would've preferred to ring in his 21st with a giant snow cone to celebrate his big day.  Fitting the name of the place is Paradise, since we know that's where he is.

Here's one for you, Bub, swirled with lots of love.  

Linked with #DanceWithJesus

Goosebumps at the Ballpark

Celebrating someone’s birthday once they're gone is a bittersweet and often difficult thing to do.  Your heart doesn’t always feel like rejoicing when it is feeling the weight of the loss.  Especially when it is your child.

Austin’s birthdays have varied since losing him.  The first, after he passed, we spent the day away from the house, just the three of us, and planted a memorial tree in our backyard.  What would’ve been his 16th, we had family over, a gathering just like he always loved.  In other years we’ve sent balloon letters up to him or floated sky lanterns in his memory. Most have been somewhat somber and heavy.

Yesterday was his 6th birthday gone.

I hadn’t planned anything leading up to it, figuring I’d let our emotions dictate what we did to remember him.  And then Tim called one afternoon telling me he’d won tickets to a ballgame.  We both teared up once realizing the date.  July 8th - Austin’s birthday.

Baseball and Austin went together like peanut butter & jelly.  They just fit.  

From the time he was tall enough to hit off a T, a passion was sparked.  Spring to summer our family spent our days (and nights) at the ballpark.  Once he grew old enough to enjoy watching it on TV, he was hooked even more.  Bats and gloves littered my house, so much so that we still keep one of Austin’s bats by our front door.

One of our favorite things to do as a family was go to a minor league ballgame.  At one particular park, they had fans come to the field in between innings to play games.  Without fail, Austin would always get picked. He won pizzas, gift cards, and shirts, including one of his beloved Ts that is now included in a quilt on the back of our couch.

When he passed, it was hard for us to love baseball again.  For awhile, it hurt too much being on the field.  In fact, Noah even stepped away from the sport for a couple years, coming back just in time before he aged out.  Last night, sitting behind the home plate, we all realized again how much we missed it.  The Blairs just need baseball!

As if winning tickets to the game on his birthday weren’t enough of hug, 
as always, our boy came through in very big ways.

The weather report was plain ick for the day, actually calling for hail storms and torrential winds.  I was worried it would be so bad that we couldn’t even drive the hour to the field, as the timing called for it to hit late afternoon.  While at work and driving around, I sent up a little prayer that we might have a rain free evening to enjoy the game and remember Austin.  God delivered big time…

Checking the weather again later, I noticed the 85% chance had disappeared to 0% and the hour by hour only included a very small chance of rain, way into the evening.  Wonderful!  We arrived to sunny skies and high 80s in July – picture perfect.  In fact, it wasn’t until we got home late last night and headed to bed that I heard the rain hit.

Getting to our seats (which were amazing  - 2nd row, right behind the plate), our family was met by the park photographer, offering to take a group shot.  Asking about our shirts, Noah shared his brother’s love for the game.  Before he walked away, the guy tossed him a ball to have as a souvenir.    And later he caught a fan shirt during a toss out.  His big brother was certainly shining down on him.

Settling in with an array of fried goodies on our laps, I look up to another goose bump moment.

For the first pitch, the catcher bent in front of us in a blue jersey with #23 printed in bold white – Austin’s number.  Every year he ever played, #23 was Austin’s jersey and even before he passed it was a special number for our family.  Since he’s been gone he uses it to send us hugs and this was just about one of the best ever.  It was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears.

Such a special moment!

The rest of the night continued to be a home run.  We felt Austin’s spirit with each swirling of dust and ping from the bat.  All of us shared memories and stories of baseball days and family trips to games. Things we loved (and missed) about him.  It truly was a celebration of Austin’s life.

Not a feeling we’re quite used to on this grief journey, but one I’m grateful for.

Happy 20th birthday in Heaven, Bub.  

Thanks for the hugs from above.

Faithful Friday: Remember Me

Memorial weekend has various definitions for people.  Some see it as the launch of summer.  An extra long weekend.  An opportunity to catch up with family and friends to cook and hang out.  Time for a household project.  

For many Americans, it is a time of patriotic remembrance and humble gratitude for the ultimate service of our armed forces. (Thank you... Thank you... Thank you.)

And for anyone missing a loved one, Memorial Day weekend can also be a time of grief.  A time of remembering those now gone from this earth.

For us, it is a bittersweet mixture of all.

Years and years ago, as a little girl, I can remember the day being spent in the car surrounded by flowers.  With my Aunt and Grandma, we'd visit numerous graves the entire day, dusting off and sprucing up their sites.  In my shorts, I'd be sticky from the heat, legs itching from walking in and out of grassy areas.  Most of those graves contained memories I'd never experienced, as I didn't know the names etched in stone.  But I recall the loving care my family took for each of their graves - and even as a little girl - I knew that meant they mattered.

In years past, Memorial weekend was a holiday I longed for.  In a career that had me working most weekends of the summer, I was eager for a long stretch of time with the family.  It included picnics and cookouts, time fishing or swimming, and lots of relaxing.

For the past several years, it has been a working holiday, as our hometown's annual festival coincides.  We took the opportunity to launch our first fundraiser for Austin's scholarship fund, using the anticipated crowd to boost our support.  It helped that the fire department, for which my husband led as chief, was in the middle of the activities and made for the perfect spot.  And it just seemed fitting to remember Austin on such a symbolic holiday weekend in that way.

This year, our family again sees changes.  With Tim no longer tied to the department, we have plans to get away and enjoy the lake.  Time together on the water is something we enjoy and it brings us peace.  The weather looks to be beautiful and Tim has eagerly been prepping the boat so here's hoping we have fun, stay safe, and catch lots of fish!

It goes without saying we'll pause to remember Austin.  We don't need a holiday to think of him, as he's in our hearts every single day.  I did visit his grave yesterday and freshen his flowers.  Perhaps it is different for every parent, but I've never really found comfort there.  For one, it is a place no momma ever wants to have to go to see her child.  For another, I know Austin is not really there.  But out of respect and love for him, I try to keep his site nice and change his flowers with every season.

 "Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: 

and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it." - Ecclesiastes 12:7 

I left his grave yesterday upset, not just in having to visit him there but, mostly because the grounds (even after six seasons) are still bare.  Even though we have little to no control over the quality of lawn care at this facility, it still feels like my responsibility.  And that it looks like we, his parents, don't care.  

Coming home to load the photo and vent, I noticed the rainbow surrounding his feet and where I stood.  I couldn't help but feel that was Austin's reminder he was shining down on us.  And as another dear friend posted, perhaps his ground is worn because of so many visits from others.  I'll cling to those more joyful thoughts than what the angry momma bear inside me is thinking...

If your time includes a visit to graves of those you mourn, pause and remember the good moments in between the tears.  Take a favorite memory or two home with you.  

I thank my God every time I remember you. -Philippians 1:3

No matter where this holiday weekend finds you, I wish you much peace, family, freedom, fun and most of all joy. Soak up the "unofficial start of summer" and enjoy the sunshine.

Dreams and Nightmares

For as long as I can remember, I've had a dream of being a writer.

Words have always spoken volumes to me.
And without much effort, they flow out of me.

When I was a little girl, I'm guessing around the age of six, I "made" my first book.  Cutting out cardboard pages and gluing them together, I bound the book that I would later fill with my own words.  I don't remember the story but I vividly recall the process.

And perhaps it was from that moment my passion for writing bloomed.

That dream has always included being published.  The online world made that a reality soon after I began blogging.  But I still desired to see my name in tangible print.  To have words come from my mind and end up in physical form.

It seems surreal that I will see not one but two published books this month.

Both are compilations, I'm honored to be a part of.  Both tell Austin's story.

When I gave birth to him nearly 20 years ago, I knew instantly he'd changed me forever.  My dreams became his.  My goal was his future.  Suddenly this tiny human was the center of my life...

Never would I have imagined he would help to ensure a dream of mine with the nightmare of his passing.

Bittersweet doesn't even begin to describe it.

While the little girl in me surely dreamed of a different topic for her first book, I am thankful for the opportunity to share Austin with the world.

Today is the second anniversary of Still Standing Magazine.  A website that gave me tremendous support when I found them at their launch.  A sisterhood that opened their broken hearts to help mine heal.  And a group I would later have the privilege of guest posting for, then most recently becoming a monthly contributor of.

This second edition book, Still Standing...Because They Lived, includes stories from many of the grieving writers who share their loss but also their hope.  Because they lived, we are still standing.  The link above will allow you to pre-order this beautiful collection today.

Some of you may recognize my own feet...and Austin's memorial tattoo, on the front cover.

Faithful Friday: Daily Thanksgiving

November 29th will always be crazy difficult, a tornado of emotions, a mixture of new memories mingled with painful reminders. 

I spent the morning in quiet time, allowing the kids to sleep in, while Tim headed out for work.  Surprisingly Noah, my sleeper, awoke first and came straight to me with a gentle hug.  He lingered and though nothing was said our hearts spoke.  His fingers traced my hand and we just sat in the peacefulness of the moment. 

The day was filled with a wavering.  Of laughter and tears.  Of longing and knowing.  Of wanting to be alone and glad the house was full of family.  Of what could've been and of gratitude for what is now.  Of missing him and yet feeling him in everything.

#23's more than I could count.  Giggles from the spaces of this little house, filling up the empty and erasing the aching.  A three month milestone on the anniversary. 

 

Our tiny newest blessing.  More hugs than normal from my sweet guy.  Noah knew this momma needed extra loving, I guess.  Even snuggles on the couch before bed.  And restful sleep, something that hasn't come with other anniversaries.  Prayers from friends no doubt filling the night and bringing us peaceful dreams.

We took things slower.  Stretched out RAK even to today.  It allowed Tim to be a part of the reverse shopping spree for the first time.  The three of us doing it together.  Healing and changes.  And today, two days after Thanksgiving, just like five years ago, we began decorating for Christmas.  Phases.  Some old, some new, some still hard, some bittersweet.

This morning, this last day of November, I paused to write my last thankful post of the month.
I'll share it below....

Today, as I think back over November, my list of gratitude abounds. And I'm glad thanksgiving is not just a day, or even an month for us, but how we try to live every single moment.

I am thankful we are at a place that, despite the pain we've faced, we still find joy and give thanks. I am grateful for family and friends who haven't forgotten our sweet boy, who remember him through helping others. I am touched by the prayers which continue to be said for us to this day. And I am knees bent at God's overflowing mercy and grace, which whispers to my heart that this is not the end.

Purpose Driven Acts

This is our week to make a difference.  To remember our son. 

Austin's purpose in this world, without a doubt, was to make a difference to anyone he met.  He'll always be remembered for his kindness to others.  It is because of his caring spirit our Random Acts of Kindness project was born.

November 29 wasn't ever a date I expected to have such significance.  Shortly after Thanksgiving, it was normally such a happy time for our family.  Now, it is a day laced with painful memories of losing our 14 year old son, Austin.  In fact, the entire month seems somewhat like a countdown to that horrible night.

It's almost been five years and what we've learned along the way is to focus on the positive.  Remembering what we're thankful for and how much we're blessed, despite this great loss, is how we've survived. 

For us, it is now more than just a day to honor him...It is a month of Thanksgiving.  In gratitude for the 14 years we had with him, we give back every single day of November.  In some ways small, in some ways big.  They may be "random" but each is done with a very special purpose.

A previous year's post explains it more for those of you who are new.  And here's a recap of the beautiful acts done for Austin one year.  And one of my favorite activities we've made an annual tradition.  So many wonderful stories of how this simple act of helping others helped us heal.... 
(you can search "acts of kindness" on this blog to read even more).

If you'd like to join us in RAK this week, or on November 29, please send us a quick note with your random act.  You can message me below, or even post on his Facebook page here.  Prayers of thanks and blessings in advance for remembering Austin in this way!

Birthday Blessings

My birthday will always be shared in a way with my son, Austin.  And that's why it's bittersweet.

You see, my birthday (Jan 8) is six months from his birthday, July 8.  As such, he deemed this day his "Happy 1/2 birthday" years ago and it stuck.  It was a running joke every year.  Never mind it was my day, or that Noah's was a mere 11 days away, it was the kickoff to his birthday.  I gladly share this day with him, I just wish he could be here to celebrate with me.

I try very hard to live in the now....to celebrate TODAY'S joys.

To be grateful for the surprise breakfast in bed, cooked by my hubby,

who breaks out the skillet only about once or twice a year.

For the precious moment of snuggling with Noah

on the couch this morning as he chomped down his cereal.

The sweet "Happy Birthday!" from Tina as she frolicked out to catch the bus.

For the many well wishes this morning from friends and family.

The anticipation of the yummy steak dinner we have planned tonight.

But it's hard to not think of him on this day.  To not wish, for a moment, to have him here with me.  And so I'm celebrating with him in the only way I know how.  By giving back.

My sweet boy was known for helping others.  It was his legacy.  What many may not know about him was his great love of books, something else he shared with his momma. 

I began reading to him while he was still in my belly.  After he was born, we spent family time in the bed each morning, and it included reading a book.  As he grew older, our nightly ritual contained a bedtime story. I still recall his proud face the first time he read a book to me on his own.  As a young child, we'd increase the size of the books with his age.  He loved big chapter books because it meant more one on one time with mom.  And I remember fondly as he grew into a teen and we began to share and recommend books to each other.  I loved discussing books with him, listening to them on tape in the car, and quietly reading next to him on the couch.

It's no surprise that he had a large collection of books.  He'd saved every book he'd ever owned since birth.  After he passed away, and we transitioned his room for Tina, I stacked most of those books into totes for storage.

Something whispered to me when cleaning over Christmas break that it was time to find those books new homes.  Austin would want them to be shared.

This is how I'll spend my birthday this afternoon.  Donating over 100 books, from chunky wooden toddler stories to thick, dog-eared novels.  Each one being sent with love - and a big Austin hug from Heaven.

Happy 1/2 Birthday, sweet boy.

A Month of Thanksgiving

If you followed this blog last November, you know what the month is for us - a mix of emotions ranging from deep mourning and loss to blessed thankfulness.

November 29 wasn't ever a date I expected to have such significance.  Days after Thanksgiving, it was normally such a happy time for our family.  Now, it is a day laced with painful memories of losing our 14 year old son, Austin.  In fact, the entire month seems somewhat like a countdown to that horrible night.

It's been nearly four years and what we've learned along the way is to focus on the positive.  Remembering what we're thankful for and how much we're blessed, despite this great loss, is how we've survived.  But more than that, it is the launch of the Random Acts of Kindness we do in memory of Austin.

Last year's post explains it more for those of you who are new.  And a recap of the beautiful acts done for Austin here.  And one of my favorite activities last year we're making an annual tradition.  So many wonderful stories of how this simple act of helping others helped us heal.... 
(you can search "acts of kindness" to read more).

As I've done for the past two years, I'll dedicate my Facebook status to something I'm thankful for each day.  This blog will also be focused on thankfulness and we'll sprinkle in stories of the acts of kindness being done.  I hope you'll join us.

Today I'm thankful for... a month dedicated to remembering my son, Austin. 

For the blessed memories...for the 14 years God let us borrow him...

for the random acts of kindness we now do in his memory.

This post is linked up with:

Thankful Thursday Link-up

When the Unimaginable Happens.

Our community has been shattered by loss as of late.  It seems nearly every other day we hear of another heartbreaking story. 

Life is hard.  Life is unexpected.  Life is short. 

Loss is loss to whomever is grieving.  It matters to them and in those first few days is all-consuming.  To those unconnected, life continues without pause.  When the loss involves a child though, it is as if time stops for everyone.  If only for a moment.

A child should never die.  It goes against everything we believe.  Fairy tales have happy endings.  A child should never die.

I remember all too painfully well the night our world stopped.  Life as we knew it ceased to exist.  Austin was gone.  There were no answers that made it right.  No words that made it better.  Just shock, gut-wrenching pain, darkness and complete sadness. 

How my heart aches for so many living this new world right now.  In my backyard.  Some I know, some I don't, but all I feel for.  I know.  I remember.  I cry for them.
And then I do the only thing I know to do...

Pray.

In this moment, there is nothing else that matters. Right now, they are numb and they are raw with emotions, all at the same time.  To some, it may seem overwhelming to know what, if anything, you can do to help.  My best advice, from someone who lived it, do something.  Anything.  Just be there for them.

I remember those who reached out.  Even if I didn't reach back. 

So many phone calls, texts, emails, hugs, tears.  I remember them all.  They spoke volumes to me.  It didn't fix the broken inside of me.  Nothing anyone did or didn't do healed me.  But it meant the world at the time and those gestures, acts of kindness, will forever remain with me.

A friend I've never met, but joined this unwelcome club of bereaved parents, wrote the best collection of thoughtful ideas that I have found.  I encourage you to visit her blog and read this post:  What you can do to help a grieving family.  Her story is haunting but beautiful, as is her special boy Jack. 

And, as I'm a little further down the path than she, I'll add a final thought.

Don't stop.

One of the greatest fears for parents who've lost a child is that they'll be forgotten.  What I've learned is that they are not.  But never hesitate to mention the child.  Even if it brings tears.  We mommas don't mind crying in remembering our child.  They are thankful tears that tell us, yes my child was loved and is missed.

I call those "Austin hugs" now and welcome them.  Especially when they're unexpected, like yesterday.  In the midst of my normal daily rounds at work, I pass a young man at the hospital.  I've seen him before and we always exchange hellos.  One of us is normally rushing though and I don't think we've really ever talked.  Until yesterday.  On my way out, he says, "I think I know you."

This makes me stop.  I'm curious.  "How do you know me?" I respond.  He chuckles, somewhat taken aback at the question.  We swap names and families, jobs and other connections. 

"Aren't you Austin's mom?"

Now I freeze.  There was a time tears would be welling now.  This time I smile and proudly say, "Yes, I am.  Did you go to school with him?"  Internally I am gauging his age to be what Austin would've been by now - 18 or 19 and graduated.  I'm trying to search his face for resemblance of a younger version, to see if I can recall him.  Disappointed I cannot but we're both grinning now remembering him.

Back out in my car, though a piece of me aches for what could've been, my heart is smiling because of the memories of what was, and because I know Austin will never be forgotten.

It doesn't ever take the pain of losing him away - nothing will - but those "Austin hugs" sure do help me get through it.  And even still, lots and lots of prayers.

If You Were Here...

To My Son, Austin -

If you were here today, I'd wish you a Happy Birthday and tear up thinking how quickly you grew up.  No more Momma's Little Blair Bear, but a young man.

If you were here today, I'd stand tiptoe to reach my arms around your neck and squeeze you back with one those famous Bear hugs you were known for.

If you were here today, I'd cook all your favorite foods from breakfast to dinner.  From cheesy eggs to special buttered toast all the way to shrimp and hot potato salad.  We finish it off with a strawberry cheesequake ice cream cake from DQ.

If you were here today, I'd take lots of pictures, even though you'd try to look away, and we'd comment how much you've changed.  I'd drag out the baby books and photo albums and we'd laugh about past memories.

If you were here today, Dad would have his talk with you about becoming a man.  It would be a collection of all the mini stories and lessons he'd of told you in previous years.

If you were here today, Noah would be your shadow, soaking up your company before you left for college.  Maybe you'd have a sleepover together in your room for old times, having a marathon Xbox challenge.

If you were here today, we'd pretend to surprise you with a party.  You would've asked to open your presents thirty seven times and I probably would've caved in on a few. 

If you were here today, you'd pace the floor checking the time, eventually taking your spot by the door to greet everyone as they arrived.

If you were here today, the house would be filled with your deep laughter and contagious smile.  Your eyes would be sparkling, loving being surrounded by family and friends.

If you were here today, I would be weepy, sad that my baby was all grown.  Already dreading sending you away to school but trying to forget that - just for today.  I'd try to be brave but you would've rested your head on my shoulders, knowing the pain I tried to hide, and wanting to take it away.

If you were here today, you'd have hugged me a dozen times, thanking me, reassuring me you won't forget to call, telling me you love me.

If you were here today, I'd kiss your cheek and look into those brown puppy dog eyes and tell you I love you.  And mean it with every fiber of my soul.

Happy 18th Birthday, sweet boy.  We all love and miss you so...

Remembering Austin's Birthdays...

In honor of Austin's 18th Birthday, I'm attaching links,

mostly to Austin's memorial blog, which covers every birthday 1-14,

as well as how we've celebrated his life since he's been gone.

1st Birthday

Our Blair Bear

2nd

Barney-rama

3rd

Lil Big Boy

4th

The Jeep

5th

Scooby Doo...and Tarzan too

6th

RiDQlously Sweet

7th

Backyard BBQ

8th

Old Fashioned Picnic

9th

Family First

10th

double digits

11th

2005...trials & transformations

12th

the year of 2 parties

13th

Big Sexy

14th

Our last

Happy Birthday in Heaven - 15th

It’s hard to imagine that you're not here with us on your special day.

We’re still trying to cope with why God took you away.

But some things just aren’t meant for us to understand.

So we’ll focus on our memories of you and know it is God’s plan.

You were so special and your life was such a gift to us each year.

We hope you know how much we truly loved you, dear.

Fifteen years ago, you came into our lives and filled each day with laughter and joy.

We are so proud to call you “Son” – you were a terrific boy!

So quickly you grew from a baby, to boy, to young man, growing taller each day.

We loved to watch you excel in school and to cheer you on in the sports you’d play.

We were honored to see you lend a helping hand, whenever you saw a need.

A caring big brother, mentor, fundraiser and junior firefighter – you did so many good deeds!

Life isn’t the same without you here; we miss you with every beat of our hearts.

It is hard not having you with us and being so far apart.

But we feel your presence daily and see you smiling down from Heaven above.

You continue to inspire, to touch so many, we all can feel your love.

Your life was a legacy,

and to keep your memory alive we will proudly share your story.

We know you’re spending this birthday in Heaven

and you deserve that honor and glory.

We hope God knows how special an angel he’s chosen in bringing you there.

Happy 15th Birthday, Austin. We love and miss you, “Blair Bear”.

Bittersweet 16

17th

Heart Hugs from Heaven

Happy 18th sweet boy...

we love and miss you with every breath.

Faithful Friday: Heavenly Birthday

On Sunday, July 8, my firstborn would've been celebrating his 18th birthday.  18 years.  All grown up. 

Yet, for us, Austin will eternally always be only 14.  We will never know how tall he may have been.  Or how his looks and voice would have changed.  For us, he'll always be that simply sweet, innocent age of fourteen.  That delicate time between being a child and a man.

It's a difficult time for this momma.  I so much want to be planning the biggest birthday party ever for my special guy.  My tear-stained eyes and heavy heart sometimes wonder if we're strong enough to get through the next few days.  How do you carry on when a piece of your soul is no longer with you?

When I said, “My foot is slipping, ”

your love, O Lord, supported me.  - Psalm 94:18

In search of what would've been Austin's birthday scripture, I landed at the verse above.  1994 was his birth year, and on Sunday, he would be 18.  Psalm 94:18.  Yes, that is how we have survived this.

The past three and a half years have been unimaginable.  The pain often unbearable.  But when I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't cope, was in complete despair, the ONLY thing that got me through was God.  Even when I didn't want Him.  When I was mad at Him - for taking my firstborn.  He was there.  Each time I slipped, stumbled, fell...He was there.  On the days I couldn't do it.  He could.  And did.

Searching for Austin's birthday verse wasn't easy.  7.8.94  There isn't a Psalm 78:94.  Other variations took me to scripture that, well, didn't speak to me.  I added up the year 1994.  Instantly I remembered it was in fact Austin's favorite number, 23.  He'd discovered that years ago as we were both watching the movie 23, and then realized Noah wearing his jersey, the back displaying 23.  Goosebump moment.

And I thought, how fitting.  Probably the most known Psalm of the Bible.  Maybe the most known verses period.  I read through them again, memory skipping ahead of my eyes. 

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside quiet waters,

he restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness

for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk

through the valley of the shadow of death,[a]

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and love will follow me

all the days of my life,

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord

forever.

They landed to the last verse. 

So much comfort in this Psalm, especially in this last sentence.  Though the earthly arms of this momma long to reach up and hug Austin's neck on Sunday, to wish him a Happy 18th Birthday, my heart and soul are comforted with this knowledge.  And the 23 Psalm will now have an even deeper special meaning to me.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, sweet boy. 
Thank you for leading me to these scriptures today.

Keep smiling down on us.  Love you Big.

Held

I feel the need to write, yet I'm not sure I have the words...  These past few days have been so emotionally saturated.  And even though tears have fallen, they haven't the way I'd expected.  In some ways I think I'm numb, but there's so much more.

Sunday was Mother's Day.  It isn't a day I look forward to anymore.  Mother's Day is overwhelmingly hard when you've lost a child.  With Austin, he was my first born, and so it was because of him I celebrated my first holiday.  It's impossible to face the day without being flooded with memories of him.

This was my fourth Mother's Day without him.  With all the emotions from the season, I expected it be a difficult day.  I began my morning in prayer, but during it - and throughout my day - I could feel the prayers from others.  I was held.

There is no explanation for what it feels like to be held in prayer.  It's happened so many times during this journey and each time I'm humbled, grateful and spiritually changed by it's power.  I know that it is because of those prayers, and most importantly, the strength and peace from God, that I've survived.

It's the only explanation I have for yesterday.  Given the circumstances, it was still a good day.  Part of me even felt guilty for the goodness that came.  Was it wrong for me to smile, laugh, and enjoy my day - without Austin here?  Though it hurt to reflect on it, I know that he would say yes.

We'd asked for prayer the night before in our Lifegroup meeting.  In our close circle of friends from church, Tim shared what we'd be facing this coming week.  Austin's graduation would've been this Friday night.  During the prayer, I felt lifted and I believe it is what helped to hold me into the next day.  We went to church at least, and that's a tremendous change from prior years.

I'd avoided Mother's Day in church since losing Austin because it was too much.  Too many painful memories.  Too hard to explain or apologize for falling tears on a day so many others were celebrating.  Too many reminders of moments and memories lost.  But we went yesterday and were blessed from it. 

The night before and morning of, we prayed for my niece, Tina.  This would be yet another Mother's Day without her Mom.  I worried for her, concerned for the pain she might feel.  I even secretly hoped Tim & Noah didn't make a big deal of the holiday in front of her, for fear she'd feel left out.  She surprised me with the sweetest note yesterday, thanking us for what we've done for her.  I was choked up reading it aloud to Tim, especially the ending of, "our love for each other will never end. nothing and no one can replace you, how I feel about you, and everything you have done! Thank you soo much I love you!! :)"  My worries were eased in that instant for her.

It's again just another example of the amazing power of prayer and how, just when we need it most, Providence arrives.  I find myself hoping this peace - and the sense of being held - continues for the week.  We'll need it in the days leading up to Austin's graduation and now, more than ever, Friday night.

I was caught a bit off guard this morning when receiving a call from the high school.  They wanted to recognize Austin in some way at graduation and wanted our family to be a part of it.  I'm still not sure how to process it all.  Regardless of how we choose to remember Austin, it is going to be a night of needed prayers.  And I'm clinging to the faith that through it all we'll remain held.

"Asking for prayer, isn't meant to burden others.

It's about letting others share the path you were never meant to walk alone."