NO MY SON, I’M THE LUCKY ONE
Natalie and I sat beside Mitch last year and reminisced about our sweet son. It is rare we take selfies together (or alone) but this moment was an exception because we wanted to remember the moment.
As I took this photo my sweet wife turned and kissed my cheek. I was so touched by her spontaneous love and affection. I thought to myself, “How could I be so lucky?” Then I couldn't help but think how Mitch and my other children have been blessed, comforted and shaped by my wife’s goodness. If she could make me, an adult, feel good inside … I can only imagine what she does for our children.
So we sat on the grass and laughed at the funny things Mitchie did; our hearts swelled at the sweet things he said and we cried because we yearned to have our son back. Though our hearts were heavy with grief, they were also overflowing with love.
Among the many things my son taught me, one of them was gratitude. Mitch had many opportunities to complain how unfair life was for him; but he chose to see the good.
Mitch often said, “I’m the lucky one.” And though the death of my son has broken my heart into a million-pieces-and-one … I want to say to him, “No, my son. You were my child. I’m the lucky one.”