The Stained Glass Window...

Last year, on this very day, we were living every parent's worst nightmare.  Our son - five years old - on life support.  In my gut, I knew he wasn't going to make it.  But I didn't share that with anyone and I still prayed and begged for a miracle.

In that days post, I wrote...

***

Dear Friends,

Thank you so much for praying for me!  Thank you for thinking of me!  Thank you for sending all of your good and hopeful and positive energy my way.  I can feel it - I really can.  And my Mommy and Daddy, who haven't left my side, can feel it too.  We feel very loved.

Today I have been as stable as I can be.  My nurse says that she's happy that I haven't done anything to make crowds of people rush into my room.  I took it easy today and enjoyed alone time with my Dad who sang to me and did my favorite "tickle time"... and my Mom who curled up next to me in bed and whispered positive thoughts into my ear.  Even my Granny and Godmother, Aunt Bean, came to visit and bought me the biggest puppy balloon.  I am one loved boy.

Two nurses did "Healing Touch" on me today and said they thought I seemed very peaceful.  And Mommy and Daddy were SO excited that Dr. Trish came to see me... although I wanted her here to really help comfort them.  You probably don't need to be told how special Dr. Trish is to me and my Mommy.  She really helped us tonight.

The truth is, we need more than something to make us feel better.  What we desperately need is another miracle.  You all know that I've experienced miracles before - so it's possible!!  Remember when I was born with permanent hearing loss?  The kind of hearing loss that is caused from missing stuff in your ear canal?  The kind that was only supposed to stay the same or get worse?  Then remember that my Mommy and Daddy took me to the Saint Katharine Drexel Shrine... and six months later my sedated hearing test came back normal!  Remember that?  Yeah...that was pretty cool.

So, what I was thinking was this.  I've been told that I'm in charge for the next couple days.  They are going to take me off the sedation I'm on so I can wake up and smile at Mommy and Daddy.  And tomorrow I'm going to get an MRI.  I figured if all the thousands of people all over the world who are rooting for me would BELIEVE in the MIRACLE - we can come out of this together!  I'd even give you half the credit.  I'm generous like that.

My Mommy always says that the two of us are a great team.  We've had a pretty fun and interesting and amazing journey together.  

And my Daddy always says that I'm his buddy and I really want to grow up to be strong and brave like him.  

And my brother always says that I'm touching his toys.  I really want to continue doing that.  My brother also whispered in my ear that he loved me yesterday...

 ...and I need to go home and start talking so I can tell him just how much I love him, too.

Please believe.  Please don't stop believing.  We desperately need that miracle.

Love,

Gavin

***

Over this past year, I have been told a thousand times "he'll always be with you" and "he lives in your heart."  Beautiful things to say - but they are no consolation when you want your child to still be here physically.  

Yet, Gavin does show himself to us.  All the time.

Last week in church for Hope's baptism, I told the photographer that I wanted to be sure to get a great shot of the christening gown.  This would be our last time... our last child... and I wanted a great photo of the dress all of my children wore.  She said she would need a window with good light coming in.  I looked up - and saw sun shining in through one stained glass window.

"There you go!" I said, and we walked towards the window.  As we got closer, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

St. Katharine Drexel.  This is the same Saint we prayed to to restore Gavin's hearing!  

I grew up in that church, married Ed there, baptized all of my children there and had Gavin's funeral mass there... and had never known about that window.  Gavin led me to that window - I am sure of it.  He made his presence known.

The other day on the phone with my sister, she told me she was proud of me... which meant so much coming from a family member who has seen me through some pretty crazy stuff.  She likened my life's journey to a mosaic.  My life, she said, was filled with a lot of cracks and broken, ugly pieces.  But once it was put together, it became a beautiful piece of art.

That's how I see Gavin's life.  Born into a body that failed him, this little child made such a work of art out of all of his broken pieces.  

And when the light shown in through the cracks and pieces, it bathed everyone nearby with love.

And it still does.