Letters To My Son: In the Dark of Night

Dear Mitch,

This time of year brings you back to me in ways I can’t explain.

For you, the holidays were always magic. Sure, you loved Santa and things, but you treasured the magic of family and being together more – it's ironic that the gift you treasured most was the very gift you gave to others.

It's interesting your favorite time of year was always the darkest and coldest. There’s some beauty to that – for it is only in the dark of night that we learn to appreciate light and warmth.

My son, if you could see what your light has done to lift and serve others. Your life has inspired many to show up with their art, strangers who saw your story and combined their compassion with their passions and shared beautiful stories, strangers who are now friends remember your life and loss and honor it with theirs. If anything, you have shown me anew that the human family is one family.

All over the world, people are making changes for the better.

And they take that light, that spark of meaning and purpose, and become a light to others. Whether they’re serving friends, family or complete strangers … they are lights.

Though you were small in stature, the impact you continue to make is no small thing.

When I look back, I can see so many points of light. So many blessings, big and small. They were as real and miraculous as anything I know. The timing of your life and everything that happened in it was a miracle. You are, sweet boy, like all of us, woven in a tapestry of light.

I don’t get to hold you anymore, but I can hold you in my heart. That is all we can do when we lose the one we love. You are the wind in my face and the lift to my soul.

I treasure my memories with you.

Some of my memories are hard – and I hang on to them, too. I don't shut them out because they remind me how fragile life is – and the need to make the most of the time we have. For one day, we will all die and go to that place beyond the hills.

When I lost you, we were surrounded in darkness. But as I allowed my spiritual eyes to adjust, I saw there was more, much more, happening behind the veil of darkness.

Were we to see through the window of life and peer beyond, I think we’d be awestruck by how much light surrounds us.

We’d be breathless to know we have not, and never will be, alone.

But for reasons we don’t yet know, that door is shut and we must learn to see through the eyes of faith.

I cannot see what’s over there … but I can see what is right here. And I believe. I believe in the goodness of the human family. I believe we’re inspired to love and serve … to make the world a better place in any way we can … in every way we know to do.

I miss you. And though I don’t get to make new memories with you, I can make new memories because of you. I’m learning to live without you – and it’s hard sometimes. But each day I’m getting stronger.

Each day I’m inspired by others, who serve because of you.

I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. Instead, I look upward and search for light. And I see it everywhere.

Well, this is dad, sighing off, for now. Thank you. Thank you for being my son. My teacher. My light.

This holiday, I’ll remember that no matter how difficult life can seem at times, there are blessings along the way. I will look for them because I know, I just know, they show the way.

Love,

Dad