Colt’s short life lasted a mere 200 days (to the hour)…
and today, on Thanksgiving, at approximately 7:00 pm, Colt will officially be
gone for 200 days.
I’m not exactly sure how to wrap my head around that fact,
nor how I feel about it. Has he truly been gone that long? Was his time in my life really that short? Honestly, I have cherished these last 200 days almost
just as much as I treasured the 200 days I got to hold my son in my arms. He was and IS a gift. I have struggled to know what to even write about today, but knew I had to write
something. I prayed for Heavenly Father to guide me, and felt impressed to
share with you my bike analogy.
As some of you may know, I LOVE riding my bike. A few months
after Colt died, I came up with this analogy to help explain my new life to other people. My life is different... very different... and it will never be the same
again. There are times I would like to return to the “before” Braquel
instead of the “after” Braquel… the Braquel who didn’t know what true sorrow
felt like… but most of the time I am just grateful for 200 days…
Life is like riding a bike.
When you’re born it’s all downhill. You only have to make
the slightest sound and someone is there taking care of your every wish and
need. Slowly your ride starts leveling out until you reach adulthood and find
that your ride is not as easy as it once was. Now, it is full of ups and downs and a whole lot of pedaling along the somewhat boring, yet easy, flat trail.
Sometimes the path gets pretty hard, but in the end it always seems to level
off and become easier again.
Except when you go through a MAJOR trial. A trial like
losing a child…
This HUGE bump in the road puts you on a very different
path. This new path NEVER levels off, it NEVER goes downhill, and it NEVER will
be easy again. NEVER. Yes, there will be times when the hill is not so steep,
but there will also be times when you are basically going vertical and don’t
know how you can possibly keep going. But you do… you have to… If you stop you
will start rolling back down, which may seem like an ok idea until you realize
there is nowhere to go but back up that steep mountainside.
The biggest problem with this new path is that those who
haven’t climbed such steep mountains will never understand why you are having
such a hard time on your ride. To them, life isn’t so hard… you make it up the
hill and usually get to coast back down it for awhile. They don’t understand
that your hill, or mountain, never ends…
Another problem with this new path is the rocks. Everyone’s
path has many rocks and bumps, usually thrown in by other people when they make
a rude comment or hurt you in some way. This is part of the path and something
we all must face. However, how much harder is it to get over those rocks or
through the bumps, when you are already going uphill?
Luckily there are ways that it becomes easier…
One of the blessings in our paths is the people who can see
our struggle and lend a helping hand. There are those in our lives who are
working fervently to remove the rocks, fill the holes, and sometimes even help
push our bikes along. They are the angels of this world: a friend, a family
member, or even a stranger… And most
importantly our Savior, Jesus Christ.
These ‘helpers’ are ALWAYS found along our paths, but, are
we taking our eyes off the steep hill in
front of us long enough to notice them? Are we counting our blessings? Are we
being grateful, even though the end of our mountain isn’t found until our own death?
Sometimes it’s hard to find things to be thankful for when
you are plum tuckered out… when the tears are streaming down your face and your
heart rests at the graveside of someone lost much too soon.
It seems nearly impossible, right? And honestly, some days
it is. There are days where the pain and the grief take me over completely, and
I can’t focus on anything but survival. However, there are also many days,
between those incredibly hard ones, where I am able to count my blessings.
I
found a quote the other day, which spoke to my soul…
“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more Joy you can contain.”
I believe that for most people, including myself most of the
time, this means that EVENTUALLY we will have great joy… after death and we are
reunited with our loved ones, maybe? Part of me feels like my joy will never be
full until I have Colt back in my arms, but I also have come to find that I am
more joyful since he has been gone. My dad said it perfectly in his talk at
Colt’s funeral:
“I thought when this happened, that the world would be a darker place… but it’s not… The world is wonderfully bright and beautiful. And I’ve never felt the sun on my face for years like I have lately… I’ve never heard the birds sing like I’ve heard them sing lately… I’ve never taken so much joy in a little girl racing her grandpa to the end of the driveway and saying, “Grandpa, I beat you.” Life has never been so precious as it is right now to us and our family, and that’s Colt’s gift to us.”
I agree with my dad. Colt gave us a gift. I find so much more
joy in the little things in life than I used to. I feel more deeply… I notice
people more… I’m more compassionate… I’m less selfish… I see the tender mercies. I think that
is what it means to feel JOY in SORROW… I know now, that it is impossible to
live a full life without the bad stuff. You have to have those opposites
working together to create the whole picture.
I’m going back to my analogy…
The higher you bike up your mountain, the more amazingly
beautiful the view becomes… as long as you look up. I believe that when we can
see that beautiful view, it gives us the desire for others to see it too. It
helps us become the ‘helpers’ on others paths instead of the ‘rock throwers’,
because we care. We know how hard life’s path can be, and we want everyone to
make it to the top of the mountain with us, to feel that incredible joy that
comes from realizing how beautiful life really is.
For this thanksgiving, one of the things I am most thankful for is my ‘helpers’,
and those who have been there for my family these 200 days. I would like to
send a challenge out… ask yourself this question: Am I being a ‘helper’or a ‘rock
thrower’ on (so-and-so’s) path?
I plead with everyone to be the ‘helpers’, because you never
know how much just a smile can change someone’s day… I know I have received many
in the last 200 days, and it has made ALL the difference.
For Colt’s 200th day gone… and in celebration
of the 200 days we were blessed with him on earth… Richard and I are donating
$200 to the Temple Patron Assistance Fund through the LDS church. This charity
helps send families and individuals to the temple, who otherwise could not
afford the travel expenses associated with attending a temple. What we are the MOST grateful for, is our knowledge of forever families, and the
blessing we have to be sealed together. There is a huge desire in us to help other families receive this amazing blessing. We feel like this is what Colt would
want us to do for him, to honor him, and help him on his heavenly mission.
If any of our friends would like to donate now, or in the
future, here is the link: (you can even specify to do it in memory/honor of
Colt or another loved one)
https://ldsp-pay.ldschurch.org/donations/lds-church/temples.html?cde1=706&
I don't know what Heavenly Father was trying to tell me putting this anniversary directly on Thanksgiving, but I'm so grateful he did, because it has helped me remember that there is so much to be thankful for, even in the midst of a great sorrow.
"The hardest thing I've ever had to hear was that my child died. The hardest thing I'll ever have to do is live each day since that moment."
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