Every year this day hits me like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t even my child. But it didn’t matter. I loved him tremendously. No, scratch that. I LOVE him. I’ve never understood why people say that. They “loved” a person, in the past tense. Because all of us who were lucky enough to love Brendon in life, love in him death. Fiercely.
We love him every day, and he is never far from our thoughts, but today… on his birthday, the feeling is overwhelming. Like a freight train, slamming into my chest. The urge to scream is too much; I want to shout from the rooftops…
“Children are not supposed to die.”
Today, Brendon would have been 12. He would probably be driving his mother crazy spending too much time with his electronics or not cleaning his room. He may have been in band, or sports, and we would have enjoyed watching him grow into a young man. He would have a favorite TV show, music, sports team. He would have been about to join the ranks of “teenager.” But, no. Cancer robbed him of all of that. Robbed all of us.
Children are not supposed to die.
We love him every day, and he is never far from our thoughts, but today… on his birthday, the feeling is overwhelming. Like a freight train, slamming into my chest. The urge to scream is too much; I want to shout from the rooftops…
“Children are not supposed to die.”
Today, Brendon would have been 12. He would probably be driving his mother crazy spending too much time with his electronics or not cleaning his room. He may have been in band, or sports, and we would have enjoyed watching him grow into a young man. He would have a favorite TV show, music, sports team. He would have been about to join the ranks of “teenager.” But, no. Cancer robbed him of all of that. Robbed all of us.
Children are not supposed to die.
For those of us who survive him (what a strange word, survive) he will be forever ingrained into our memories and hearts as a five year old child. A child with the biggest smile you have ever seen. One who rarely complained about a thing. Things that would bring adults to their knees. Nasty things like surgery, chemo, radiation. Brendon laughed and smiled through it all.
He will always be, in my mind, that crazy kid with a bald head, dressed in his power ranger costume; using his IV pole to fight the bad guys down the halls of the cancer ward on Halloween. He will always be the kid who would shout “Like a Hot Dog!” during Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and who was filled with wonder one special Christmas Eve when he heard sleigh bells outside of our home in North Carolina, where his mother brought him to visit that year.
Children are not supposed to die.
He will always be my daughter’s best friend, and I will never erase the image of her laying in his hospice bed talking softly to him. I will always remember the sweet scene of his beloved dog, Cooper, wrapped around his head. The memories of our trips to Disney World will always bring a smile to my face, followed by a boring sadness that we will never have a new picture of him and his old pal Mickey Mouse. I will never, as long as I live, be able to comprehend what my sister goes through on a daily basis after losing her child.
Children are not supposed to die.
Last night, we sat down to watch NBC’s live version of Peter Pan on our DVR. I have always loved that story, and our daughter Morgan loved Tinkerbell as a younger child. But as we sat down to watch it last night, on the Eve of Brendon’s birthday, I was struck by this character. A little boy, who never grew-up but lived in a magical place called Neverland. Never growing up is a horrible thing for a child.
Children are not supposed to die.
I imagine that Brendon, just like in life, has put a delightful spin on his fate. In my dreams, I see him in his own Neverland; flying, playing, making up stories and making others laugh. I can’t imagine, for one minute, that he is sad. I imagine he is in Neverland, looking down on his family, his baby brother, his sister, his grandparents, his cousins… all the people who loved him… and excited at the thought that one day we will all fly with him in his magical world.
But today, today is just hard. It is impossible to comprehend any good that comes from the death of a child, and I just won’t. There is nothing right, nothing reasonable, no explanation for it in the world.
Children are not supposed to die.
Today in memory of Brendon please hug your children a little tighter. Forgive a little faster. Stay up past bedtime for 5 minutes longer. Enjoy the messes they make. Listen to their favorite song for the 47th time. Kiss them. Hold them. Love them.
And never, ever wish that they don’t grow up. Children are supposed to grow up, Brendon. I am sorry you never had the opportunity.
Happy Birthday, sweet boy. We will love you till the end of time.
He will always be, in my mind, that crazy kid with a bald head, dressed in his power ranger costume; using his IV pole to fight the bad guys down the halls of the cancer ward on Halloween. He will always be the kid who would shout “Like a Hot Dog!” during Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and who was filled with wonder one special Christmas Eve when he heard sleigh bells outside of our home in North Carolina, where his mother brought him to visit that year.
Children are not supposed to die.
He will always be my daughter’s best friend, and I will never erase the image of her laying in his hospice bed talking softly to him. I will always remember the sweet scene of his beloved dog, Cooper, wrapped around his head. The memories of our trips to Disney World will always bring a smile to my face, followed by a boring sadness that we will never have a new picture of him and his old pal Mickey Mouse. I will never, as long as I live, be able to comprehend what my sister goes through on a daily basis after losing her child.
Children are not supposed to die.
Last night, we sat down to watch NBC’s live version of Peter Pan on our DVR. I have always loved that story, and our daughter Morgan loved Tinkerbell as a younger child. But as we sat down to watch it last night, on the Eve of Brendon’s birthday, I was struck by this character. A little boy, who never grew-up but lived in a magical place called Neverland. Never growing up is a horrible thing for a child.
Children are not supposed to die.
I imagine that Brendon, just like in life, has put a delightful spin on his fate. In my dreams, I see him in his own Neverland; flying, playing, making up stories and making others laugh. I can’t imagine, for one minute, that he is sad. I imagine he is in Neverland, looking down on his family, his baby brother, his sister, his grandparents, his cousins… all the people who loved him… and excited at the thought that one day we will all fly with him in his magical world.
But today, today is just hard. It is impossible to comprehend any good that comes from the death of a child, and I just won’t. There is nothing right, nothing reasonable, no explanation for it in the world.
Children are not supposed to die.
Today in memory of Brendon please hug your children a little tighter. Forgive a little faster. Stay up past bedtime for 5 minutes longer. Enjoy the messes they make. Listen to their favorite song for the 47th time. Kiss them. Hold them. Love them.
And never, ever wish that they don’t grow up. Children are supposed to grow up, Brendon. I am sorry you never had the opportunity.
Happy Birthday, sweet boy. We will love you till the end of time.
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