Dear Family & Friends,
It’s okay to say his name. It’s okay to ask me about who my son was and how I live with his absence. I’m even okay with talking about that gruesome February day that he died in a car crash and those horrific years following his death.
Please don’t worry that by asking about him you’re delving into a territory that is sacred only to me, his dad, and brothers. I miss hearing his name and would love to share everything about him that you want to know. Mostly, I want to talk about him because I have a compelling need to convey how furiously God loved me in my boy’s life, death, and the years that followed.
If you ask about him, I’ll probably weep because I long to see him, drink in the scent that was uniquely his, and hold him in my arms. But mostly I will smile from the inside out because God loaned that beautiful boy to me for seventeen short but wonderful years.
Do you know? I carry him with me every moment of every day. His memory branded on my heart and mind is as much a part of me as my fingerprints. When you mention him, you aren’t reminding me of him. He’s already woven into my every thought. When you say his name you are affirming that he’ll always be my son and I’ll always be his mama.
And to think: God carries me every moment of every day too. My name, sins and all, are stamped on His heart. Yours are too. And because He knows and loves us, He chose the cross.
So yeah, say his name. I am grateful.