Through the Eyes of a Child

"There is no relationship like that of parent and child. It is unique and special...the bond between parent and child is so powerful that its strength endures time, distance and strife..."


As challenging as it is sometimes, I try to swallow down my grief and tears and not breakdown until I'm alone (when Bryson is at school and/or late at night when he's sleeping). Unfortunately, this isn't always possible. On more than one occasion, I've locked myself in the bathroom, turned the water on full blast and cried. Why? I guess I'm trying to protect my little boy from seeing his mother fall apart on a daily basis. I worry about what kind of message I'm sending him. His dad and I have let him know that it's ok to be sad...it's ok to cry. But how much is too much for him to witness? Late one night, not long ago, I was in bed sobbing quietly (or so I thought). Bryson came to me and gently placed his little hand on my face. "Are you sad again, Mom?" "Yes, honey, I am. I'm sorry I woke you," I replied. "That's ok, Mom." He brought me some tissues and said, "Please just try and not cry so much that you throw up. I love you, Mom." He sweetly kissed me and went back to sleep.

I didn't realize Bryson was aware of the fact that much of the time, that's exactly what happens...I cry to and beyond the point of physical illness. I worry about the kind of impact this may have on him emotionally. I'm terrified that he'll begin to think I don't love him as much as I do Brittany....that somehow he'll begin to think he's not enough. Of course he is. And while half of my heart died with Brittany, the other half belongs to my son...and that half beats strong. But have I distanced myself so much emotionally from my family that I'm no longer able to nurture them? If so, how do I bridge that distance with so much brokenness in my life?

My precious little boy is suffering, too...probably more than I truly know. I mean, if I struggle on a daily basis trying to process this nightmare, how does an 11-year child do it? I painfully remember when Brittany was in the hospital, we struggled with the decision of whether or not to let Bryson see her in that condition. But, once we realized our miracle wouldn't happen, we decided Bryson deserved the right to say goodbye, too. He idolized his big sister. He still does. The hospital's social worker helped us prepare Bryson for what he would see...and although he put on a brave face...I could tell he was scared. He was afraid to touch her at first, but after we assured him it was ok, he wrapped his little hand around hers and stroked her arm. "When will she wake up?" he asked me. "I don't know, baby," I said. "She's very badly injured, but the doctors are doing everything they can. It's up to God now." "Can she hear me, Mommy?" he asked. "Of course she can, honey," I said. "Brittany just can't talk to you because of the tube in her mouth. You can talk to her as much as you want." And he did. Bryson even wrote her a poem and read it aloud to her. He told Brittany she is "prettier than a rose" and that he loves her "bigger than the universe." Along with a few other tokens of our love, that poem is with Brittany today. The social worker even helped Bryson put Brittany's painted hand print on a canvas. Watching him touch her with such sweetness...such gentleness...was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. I had to witness firsthand a little boy trying to let go of his big sister.  

Lately, Bryson has become much more comfortable talking about Brittany...and less afraid of making me cry if he does. In fact, on the way home from school today...out of nowhere...he said, "Mom, you're beautiful just like Brittany." My heart melted. I just smiled at him in awe and silently thanked God for blessing me with this amazing little boy...my earthly angel. And, if you were to ask Bryson where his big sister is now...without hesitation...he would proudly say, "Heaven! Brittany's my angel and she's always with me!" She is, indeed.