The Uniqueness of his Soul

I was going through some things today, cleaning and organizing. At first, it was fine; after a while, it broke me. Being a bereaved parent it's difficult to do most any task that involves pieces of the past and not have it conjure an emotional response. Frankly, my emotions can spark with the most mundane and benign thing; it does not have to relate to Wyatt to strike the proverbial chord, but today it was. Nothing dramatic, not photos, videos or audios, I was going through some Christmas cards we received from the year after Wyatt's death. I got through about one third of them when it hit me and thrust me to the floor in heaves of nausea and screaming through the tears. I began to wail and sob and ache at the absence of my child. It can't be, it simply can't be.

But, it is.

After a while, the wave of sorrow and sickness subsided so I could continue with my task, I laid down amid the various papers and books and began to look through them. I found this paper folded inside a notebook and as I read it I recalled it was sent to us after Wyatt's death. I'm ashamed to say I don't know who sent it, but it must have spoken to me then because I took it out of the envelope and placed it in my things. I don't think it was a person we knew, only a kind hearted soul who was reaching out to a family who needed to know people cared. This little poem spoke so clearly to me again today. It describes how I feel and tells me that Wyatt's gifts truly are unique in all the world. That his unique wonder is not something only a mother can see, but is also known by those who knew him, whose lives he touched and those who shared in his living.

"Life will not go on in the same way without him. If it were the same, we could only conclude his life meant nothing, made no contribution. The fact that he left behind a place that cannot be filled is a high tribute to the uniqueness of his soul."

Oh, how I miss that boy.