Flashbulb memory

Today, I have a heavy heart.  On this day ten years ago, my nephew, Jared, was called to his forever home.  I think about this little man every single day.  There is so much that Ellie does (or did) that is so similar to Jared.  She’s even just a few days off the age that Jared was 10 years ago.  Every year on March 12^th, I wake up and everything about that day in 2005 is palpably real.  I remember hearing my cell phone ring from the other room and missing the call.  I remember getting up and calling Tracy back.  I remember the odd things that she said that made no sense and knowing something was wrong.  I remember calling my parents and siblings and repeating the odd words she said to them as we rushed to the hospital to meet the squad.  I remember the ER staff bringing our family into this tiny room in the back as we arrived – not a good thing at all.  [To this day, when a doctor brings us into a small room to talk while Ellie is in a procedure, my stomach turns and I panic.]  I remember hearing the most unimaginably awful words come out of Tracy’s mouth when she came in that room to share that Jared didn’t make it.  If you’re familiar with the term “flashbulb memory”, this entire day is just that.  Every detail is as vivid as if it were happening today.  I know how this feels as an aunt… I can’t imagine what it felt like as parents or grandparents.  

We release balloons every year on Jared’s birthday (sending them up to heaven for him).  While his birthday is painful, it’s still a celebration of life.  This day, on the other hand, is gut wrenching (though the pain will never be as poisonous as it was in 2005).  We still remember him with wonderful thoughts, but the reality of the day is just… just… I don’t even have words.  The pain will never go away – and it SHOULDN’T.  Our hearts will never be complete – and they SHOULDN’T be.  I’m no longer angry – but that took years to overcome.  Again, I experienced this as an aunt… not as a parent… and that difference is immeasurable.  Our loving memories of Jared live on.  We love to talk about him.  We never forget that he was here and part of our family… that’s just ridiculous.  We move forward with the knowledge that we will see him again and that he’s in a wonderful place free of pain and struggle… watching over the entire family.

Living in the Ronald McDonald House has been awesome and horrible all at the same time.  There is a lamp in the mediation room that is on for 24-hours each time a resident child passes.  It’s been lit six times since we’ve been here… four times for families we know.  Each time I see that light, my heart breaks for a family.  Each time, my mind flashes back to March 12, 2005 and I remember the shock, the horror, the panic and the unsurmountable grief.  So today, while we celebrate the happy milestones in our lives, please take time out to pray for Tracy and Josh and the whole family on the anniversary of the worst day of their lives.  Pray for the families that the RMH lamp represents.  Pray for the Meyer family in Botkins who suddenly lost their sweet girl yesterday.  Pray for the families who are not going home from the hospital anytime soon.  Give praises for the blessings in your life – large and small.  Remember those you have lost in your life, and hug the ones you have here now.  God bless you all today (and always).  We love you dearly and we celebrate and grieve with you today.  It is a good day.  

And because they are just too precious not to share... here are a few pics of Jared with his older siblings.  Love you and miss you every day, Tiny!

Mason, Georgia, Makayla and Jared - he was only 8 days old here

Christmas time for the Platfoot crew - Jared is 3 months old here