How do we say goodbye when we never get to say hello? But that is our task today: to say goodbye.
This past week we have been in practice capturing a lifetime of memories. We’ve had seven days to pack 25,000. The 179 hours since Nathanael arrived -lifeless- have changed our lives forever; probably in some way that many of you will never know. We stand in solidarity with many of you who have endured what we are currently experiencing: the death of your own son.
Remembering on a schedule is hard work. We have had to be creative. I wish I could somehow register how he smells, the texture of his skin, the weight of him as I held him, his cute little features.
On Monday I lay on the floor of my hospital room and slept with Nathanael cradled in my arms. I have kissed his face hundreds of times, but that will be far less than I have kissed on the faces of my other children. Even though there were endless interruptions from midwives doing obstetrics, administering medications, changing drips, etc., between the doctors and thousands of visiting health professionals, we still had plenty of opportunities to bond with our son to the best of our ability. But then, as death reminds us, there is never enough time. There is never enough time.
A week is too fast, but it is much longer than my mother and father when my little sister, Debra Leanne, was stillborn on September 21, 1973. Sarah and I honor you for the circumstances of your loss 41 years ago and the grievance you have carried with you all these years. It’s Sacred Things have come a long way since then, but we’ve learned this week that there’s still a long way to go before parents have the respect their babies deserve, especially in the case of a baby known to have special needs. and an extremely poor prognosis. for life.
Time has slipped away and we have what we have: the knowledge that we do not waste any of our time. As I looked at her face, her small cleft lip, her flat nose, her closed eyes and her peaceful face, my eyes filled with tears. I would pray I watched as Sarah melted into tears and wailed as only a mother could understand and comprehend. Sarah’s strength through all of this has been something I have marveled at. I don’t think she knows a stronger person than her.
Nathanael’s spirit has gone to inhabit Jesus and now we say goodbye to his store.
All we’ll have to show you are a few photos, a few memorabilia, and a few items of clothing. It feels like we’ve known him for over 30 weeks that we’ve known him. For most of that time, eighteen of those weeks, we have been sitting on a time bomb. And many of you have faithfully followed us on our journey. We appreciate.
Nathaniel Marcus is our brilliant gift from God. He shines in the sky as we speak. He sits at the feet of Jesus. He is in the hands of the Father. His protection is Divine. His purpose is the glory of God.
However, we miss him so much!
© 2014 SJ Wickham.
