Austin was always such a good child.
As a baby, he quickly gained the nickname “Smiley,” due to his happy disposition. As a toddler, I don’t remember ever struggling with him to listen to me. As a young child, it was rare for my husband or me to have discipline him. And he carried on the same character traits as a teenager. Austin was just a good kid – and he always listened to his mom and dad.
His last day with us was no exception.
He helped us above and beyond in decorating the house that day, for the holidays, doing things before I even thought to ask him. He was wonderful to his little brother, not even picking on him as they usually did. Like every other day of his life, he was selfless and giving, helpful and full of laughter. Austin was filled with an extra dose of love that day though and expressed it in every action.
I’ve struggled since his passing with my last words to him. Every mother would want her last words to be “I love you” but you never imagine they will be your last. I know I had told Austin “I love you” several times that day; it was nothing for us to hug and say those words frequently on a normal day. Tim and I were especially proud of him though that day for all his help and had both commented on his actions, how much we loved him, and how special he was.
Instead, my last words to him were, “Be home before midnight.”
The night he passed, it hit me that those were the last words I said to him. The last thing he heard from me. And it is something I think about every day since he left. I replay those last moments with him over and over in my head.
Tim and I were in our bedroom, resting from the busy day and watching the 10 o’clock news. Austin had already come in to tell us good-night awhile earlier, as he always did. I expected he’d go to bed soon, as he had to be tired from our activities too.
Instead, he came to our door a little while later, jacket in hand, asking to ride his bike. He must have been on the phone with the neighbor and they decided to go out for their nightly bike ride, considering the unusually warm weather for November. Tim had already given him permission, meeting him the hallway, but I overheard him say, “Ask Mom.”
Austin didn’t even have to ask; I had no problem with him going, especially considering all he had done that day. He lingered at the doorway and I immediately said, “Yes.” He answered with a big smile, a jump in his step, and a sweet, “Thank you.” As was norm on the weekend, I said, “Be home before midnight,” completely expecting him to obey.
Fewer than fifteen minutes later, we were startled with a knock at the door. Upon leaving home, we would find our world as we knew it upside down. What seemed to stretch on for hours, looking back, was not. At 11:15 pm, sitting in the midst of chaos in the ER, my heart broke.
The words a parent never wants to hear shattered us both.
Now, anytime I think of that night, my last words to him come back to me. So many things I wish I could have said, had I known it would be our last conversation.
I have never doubted where Austin is. Knowing he is in Heaven has sometimes been the only thing that comforts me. As selfishly as I want him here, I know he is safe, he is happy and healthy, and in the most beautiful place I could ever imagine.
It hit me though, what a different meaning my last words to him could and did have.
As a wife and mother, “Home” evokes feelings of comfort, safety, love and family. As a Christian, “Home” means so much more – it is where we all long to be in the end. “Home” is still comfort, safety, love and family, but on a completely different level and for eternity.
Home is Heaven.
In the end, just as he always did, Austin listened to his mom. He made it “Home” before midnight…and I know he’ll be the first to greet me, when I make it there someday.
Originally posted on: austinslegacy.blogspot.com
In 2008, my world as I knew it changed forever, with the sudden loss of our 14-year-old son, Austin. The journey to my blog (and attitude toward life) was bumpy and tearful, beginning at a memorial blog for my son. I later chose to take another path, challenging myself to find the JOY in every day, despite the sadness I still felt. I love and miss him daily but I’m living my life to honor him – and celebrating every moment it brings. My goal…to find and share the joy in every day. You can find me at Joyful Challenge
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