When I was younger, I thought I knew what having a purpose meant. I had no clue what my possible purpose was or was to be, but I thought I understood what people meant when they said that they had found their purpose. Adults would claim that they were meant to be doing whatever it was they were doing. They felt it was their purpose.
My son dying changed my perspective of the world quite a bit.
It also dramatically changed what I thought about someone’s purpose. “What was the purpose behind him losing his life? Why would that be what was meant to happen?”
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These thoughts flooded my mind for the first couple of years after his death. Understandably, I struggled with these unknowns that would truly never be fully answered. I wanted reasons and I wanted a logical explanation of why our world was turned around.
To this day, I have no medical reason why he died. I have no document explaining why the pictures I have of him will age but never change. There is not a more thorough answer I can give his brothers when they ask questions about him. His story will always have some blanks lines. His story is not over though.
My oldest and youngest sons have shown me my purpose.
Motherhood is what I longed for and what I love. It is a wild love, but they really are my purpose in life. My middle boy, that I have to live without, has shown me my passion. Since his death, I have stepped out of my comfort zone more than ever to reach out to others. I don’t want them to feel alone in their grief journey. I used to think that they were one in the same. Now I know the difference.
The “whats” and “whys” will probably never be answered, and I am at peace with that. I don’t yearn for those answers anymore. Of course, I still ponder on those impossible “what ifs” when his day rolls around each year and probably always will. I’m forever changed because he isn’t here. I would rather have him, but since it isn’t that way, I’m thankful he keeps showing me down this new road. I am grateful that he has opened my eyes to my passion in life.
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Passion doesn’t usually coincide with logic and reasoning.
Ironically enough, it makes perfect sense that someone could find their passion from a tragedy that has no answers.
The symbols that speak the loudest to me since his death have been trees. That makes no sense, and yet, it fits. Branches are uneven and intertwined. Root systems are messy and some are weak. There is no single design to follow such as grief. The tree continues to function as the shelter and food for many despite any and all of its inadequacies. Passion isn’t logical and neither is the arrangement of leaves on tree branches but in the end, greatness can come from both.
I miss him as much today as I did the day they took him out of my hospital room. His story is meant to play out in a different way. As I move forward in life, I feel his heart is guiding me to reach out to others in need. I have followed that hand pulling me for four years now and I’m so thankful he’s a mommy’s boy, just like his brothers.
Photo by Roman Averin on Unsplash
I am a mother of 3 boys, a wife, and a teacher. Anytime I get to talk about my sweet Wyatt, I know he is smiling. I want the conversation about child loss to not be one that we are scared of. We can learn so much from each other by talking, writing, or simply just being with one another.
Wow. I am so impressed and thankful God gave you this gift.