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Free Spirit

He was a free spirit.

I smiled as I listened to this father speak of his son and thought my son too was his own person. That foundational characteristic was one of the things that both frustrated me and that I so adored about Wyatt. His stubbornness and confidence, kindness and compassion tempered with unyielding positions on matters important to him, his staunch support of those he cared about and his ability to truly not give a damn about some things.

Then I thought of the children who have died that I have come to know and love through Wyatt's death, being a free spirit seemed to be a common thread in many of their lives. Maybe that is the way we remember them, maybe it’s the way they really were, but either way, I’m beginning to believe that indeed only the good die young. These are the children who brought to our lives a different way of looking at the world or thinking that things just might not have to be what we thought they did.

Don't we all want our child to be our unique and glorious gift to this world? Through their eyes they show us how to experience the world with freshness and exuberance, to help us enjoy the simple treasures of living. In witnessing their way of living we too can sometimes slip from the shackles of life for a moment and just be, respecting the free spirit that encourages us to put our feet in the mud and squish it between our toes, to walk against the crowd, to stay up all night and howl at the moon, to walk in the warmth of the sun and embrace the immense beauty of it all.   

Life as a free spirit is a gift that comes to those who know how to live without hesitation, somehow that gives me comfort and causes me great sorrow.

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