By Mitch Carmody —
In December of 1987, our 9-year-old son, Kelly James, died following two arduous years of fighting brain cancer. That ensuing Christmas, we were so numb in our grief that much of it is now a faded memory. But that following Easter, we received a gift, a gift that I share it with you now.
When Kelly died, his sister Meagan was 6 years old; our only child now, she was left with two grieving parents who were in a deep funk for the most of a long Minnesota winter. We had fought so long to save her brother, tried so hard with everything we had at our disposal. We won many battles but ultimately we lost the war. We were wiped out, apathetic and at the lowest ebb in our lives. Thoughts of spring could not even penetrate the thick penumbra of grief that covered our souls.
Then our darling daughter gave us a gift, a homemade Easter card on Easter morning that not only penetrated that cocoon of sorrow but brought sunshine to our hearts. It was one of the first indications that Kelly had survived his physical death and reached out to us in our pain. And he did it through his sister Meagan.
Easter morning, Meagan was busy in the kitchen making us a breakfast that only a 6-year-old could make, while we waited patiently and tried not to intervene. On the table, she had a homemade card made from the stapled pages she had ripped out of a 3″x5″ spiral notebook. On the front page, she had a crayon drawing of an angel underneath a rainbow that said “Happy Easter Mom & Dad.” The text in blue crayon scrawled on the next pages read thusly:
“To Mom and Dad, Please don’t be sad just for me, I hope you are happy, I love you and I am glad up in heaven, but I miss you… and Kelly said Happy Easter Mom and Dad, I make Meagan do it, but I put it in her brain. Love Kelly.”
As you can see, Meagan was a very thoughtful and talented 6-year-old with keen insights into helping her very sad parents smile again. Or perhaps it was the power of her brother Kelly’s undying spirit using her to communicate to us that life and love is eternal. I believe both happened. This first whisper of love penetrated our darkness and we again saw hope at Easter time.
Reach Mitch Carmody through his websites, www.proactivegrieving.com and www.heartlightstudios.net.
Tags: grief, hope