Minutes turn to hours to days, and then to years. Ten, to be exact. While time seems to be fleeting, it feels like only yesterday when our Zachy boy left this earth and earned his angel wings.
How does a parent survive the pain of losing a child? How does a parent find their way through that pain? How does a parent process the grief? Or, wade through the guilt of not being able to save their child? How can a parent escape the grasp of despair and find their way on the path of life and actually live again?
For me, the path to finding the joy in life again has been a unique journey. Has it been an easy ten years? Hmmm… easy? Progression through grief and pain is never an easy road to travel. I found I had one of two choices to make. One-I can stay “stuck” and wallow in a timeless grief. Two-I can press forward with faith, serving, doing, being active, simply living. When reviewing the two choices, choice number two spoke to my heart, much more than number one. In my deepest of sorrows two days after Zach’s passing, I made a conscious choice to follow the path that would stretch me and mold me. I continue to be stretched and molded, even today.
I spoke of my faith and how that has been integral in progressing along my path. I have come to know and understand what it means to “look to God and live.” I have also come to understand and believe that those “mists of darkness” are my trials. And it is through those trials I have come to understand what it means to “hold to the iron rod.” “Line upon line, precept upon precept.” I found the breadcrumbs left on my path, and I followed them. Those breadcrumbs are what have nourished my soul. From scriptures, to hymns, to inspirational music, to temple worship, to attending church, and of course praying, these are all the glorious things that have nourished my soul. They have led me to a peaceful existence full of faith, serving, and yes, even joyful living.
Zach’s short life was from 1998 “-“ 2011. The dash represents his life. He truly was the cutest baby, investigative little boy, busy, innocent, full of love, and left his mark not only here on earth, but an indelible impression in the depths of my mother heart. I have the fondest memories of him, of his life, and what his “-,” dash, meant to me and those he met.
I heard a poem today that I want to share:
The Dash Poem by Linda Ellis
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on his tombstone
From the beginning to the end.
He noted that first came the date of his birth
And spoke of the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time
That he spent alive on earth
And now only those who love him
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard;
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
After hearing this poem, I realize I have so many things I have yet to accomplish. I have to do better when it comes to serving. I need to better show and express my gratitude. I want to be able to better express love for the people in my life. I want to be a better human in that everyone knows they are respected and feels safe in my company, in my home. I need my smile. A smile is a window into your soul. A smile can change not only how you feel, but also can brighten someone else’s day. I want to be that person. I need to be more intentional in “doing” those things to be that human. I feel these Christ-like attributes are key ingredients in the recipe for a beautiful, peaceful, and fruitful life.
At the end of my life, I hope and pray that those I love can say that I lived my “dash” well. When I see Zach again, I hope he says “Mom, I know that what you faced was hard, but I am so proud of you and how you lived your life.” I hope that each of my children and grandchildren can say the same.
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