Tag: death

the chasm…

Today is Paxton’s 14th birthday.  Or should I say today would be Paxton’s 14th birthday?  Child loss makes the simplest things extremely complicated.  It’s the 14th year since his birth, but he’s forever frozen at the age of 10.  

As a believer, I know that Paxton is in eternity.  Each day that passes brings me one day closer to seeing him again, but I’m also one day further away from the boy I knew.  I celebrate his birthday because I’m so glad he was born.  But I hate having to celebrate with…

balloons and banners but no birthday boy

cake and candles but no cheeky smile

sweet and silly memories but no one to sing to

past pictures but no present photos

This is the fourth birthday we face without him.  He would be so different and I can only imagine how he would have changed.  This is what I wrote April 29, 2023…

I’ve been trying to compose this journal entry all week.  However, I find myself struggling to even get out of bed.  It’s like a fog has settled over me the past few days…dark and thick…silent but heavy and oppressive.  

How do you celebrate the birthday of someone so young, who left too soon?  How do you find joy on a day that should be filled with Dairy Queen, friends, gifts and laughter, but instead will be filled with only memories?  How do you say Happy 11th Birthday to someone who is forever 10?  Today, instead of making new memories, we are desperately clinging to the old, trying to honor the boy he was while grieving the man he will never become.

But, if there is anyone worth celebrating, it is my sweet Pax.  He taught me so much in his 10 short years.  He taught me to love life…he could find joy in the simplest of things.  He taught me to love others…Paxton thrived when he was spending time with people.  He taught me to love adventure…when I say Paxton was afraid of nothing, I mean that literally!  He taught me to love laughter…he was always ready with a joke or silly face to make you laugh.  He taught me to be strong…there was never a challenge he didn’t face head on.

So, today I will try to picture Paxton having his best birthday ever, while I mourn the empty seat next to me.  I will try to find some of the joy he is immersed in while I grieve the absence of his smile.  I will commit to laugh a little louder, love a little deeper and live a little brighter.

Happy Birthday baby boy.  Counting the days until we can celebrate together again.

The distance between 10 year old Paxton and 14 year old Paxton is a chasm that feels vast and endless.  I would give anything to cross it, even for a moment, just to see him and hear his voice one more time.  A chasm is a profound, unbridgeable division and it feels like it gets bigger every day.  Death is a chasm that can’t be crossed…a division that can’t be spanned in our humanness.

So, I’m thankful that there is a Cross tie…that spans the chasm of grief and joy.  One that closes the chasm of death and life.  I’m thankful that the Cross is a chasm conqueror.  Because of the sacrifice Jesus made for me, for Paxton, and for you, one day the chasm will be closed and every day will be a glorious celebration that will last for eternity.

every day

the chasm grows

between the person you would be

and the boy I used to know

I’m holding on

to memories made

I refuse to let them fade

I won’t let people forget your name

your beaming smile

and freckled face

made the world a brighter place

I’m longing for

just one more day

one more moment

one more time

to hear your voice

to hug you

to look into your eyes

I realize that dream

will never come true

this side of heaven

there will never be another first

there will never be a new photo of you

but there is a cross

that closes the divide

and because of Jesus’ sacrifice

one day

I’ll see you on the other side

Neverland is real!

Since Paxton died, I have looked at and felt Easter in a different way. I now understand the pain that Mary went through as she watched her son die and I now understand that I am living in the silence of Saturday. I’ve linked my two previous Easter posts below.

https://thegodkiss.com/2023/04/07/lament/

https://thegodkiss.com/2025/04/19/the-silence-of-saturday/

This year I have another new perspective of Easter and it revolves around the word never. Throughout the Good Friday and Easter services, I could barely sing. They are services that Paxton would have attended with us, and it’s another thing that he’ll never do again. As tears of sorrow poured from my eyes, I had an image of Paxton in heaven. The tears of sorrow didn’t stop flowing, but they became mixed with tears of joy because…

Paxton NEVER again has to feel the horror and heaviness of Good Friday…

he NEVER again has to sit in the suffering and silence of Saturday…

and he will NEVER again anticipate and await Easter Sunday because ever day is Easter for Paxton!

I cannot describe how comforting that is to me. When I think back on Paxton’s life, accident, hospital stay and death, there are a few questions that can absolutely bring me to my knees.

Did Paxton know how much I loved him?

Was he scared?

Did he wonder where I was?

Was he in pain?

Did I fail him?

My mind knows the answers to those questions, but my heart aches at the thought of him feeling alone, unloved, or scared, and knowing he was in pain kills me. Then God gently comforts me and reminds me that Paxton now lives in Neverland. His home in heaven is free of all of those things. He will never again be sick, afraid, hurt or lonely. He will never again face a hard day or a dark night. Neverland is real friends…and it’s name is Heaven.

it kills me that

I wasn’t there

were you scared?

I can’t bear the thought

I let you down

I don’t know how

to forgive myself

I wish I could tell you

how sorry I am

then I’m reminded

Neverland is real

Heaven is it’s name

a place where there will never be

sickness

fear

or pain

a place where we will never face

loss or death again

no hospitals with waiting rooms

full of broken hearts

no funeral homes

or cemeteries

no more time apart

I’m thankful you’re in neverland

I’ll join you there one day

Until then, I’ll hold on

to the God of Heaven

who will never fail or fade

the Refuge…THE Refuge…

Safe in his father’s arms

Chad and I spent last weekend at The Refuge in Hot Springs.  It’s the main location for While We’re Waiting, a ministry that offers support groups and free retreats for grieving parents (www.whilewerewaiting.org).  The Refuge is a sacred place where our childrens’ stories are honored, their names are spoken and our grief is gently shared.  But, while the Refuge in Hot Springs is a beautiful, safe place for parents with hurting hearts, it’s heartbreaking that we need a place like that at all. 

Sunrise over the Refuge
memorial walk at the Refuge
Paxton’s memorial paver

A refuge is only needed when there is danger or distress.  We have to choose to seek refuge.  But taking refuge in a storm does not take the storm away.  Sometimes, we still get wet.  Sometimes we still suffer damage.  And sometimes, while our lives are spared, the landscape never looks the same.

The only true shelter in a storm isn’t a what…it’s a who.  God is THE Refuge.  He doesn’t take the storms away but He promises to hold us, walk with us and comfort us in their midst. In order to take refuge I have to choose to seek Him.

I can feel a storm approaching and the waters are starting to stir.  One month from today is Paxton’s 14th birthday.  It will be the 4th time there will be no presents to open, no one to sing to and a birthday cake that will never have more than 10 candles.  May 3 is Bereaved Mother’s Day and May 10th is Mother’s Day…two more days that celebrate the beauty and the agony of being a mama to children on Earth and children in heaven.

The reality is, there is always a storm on my horizon.  I have to choose to take refuge in THE Refuge every day…sometimes every hour…sometimes every breath.  And while there are still storms, THE Refuge promises to hold me, walk with me and comfort me.  He promises me that one day I will be in the safest place of all.  One day, the damage will be restored and I will see Paxton again.  One day, the Refuge will no longer be needed because THE Refuge will make all things new.

I’m battered by

the wind and rain

grief

and pain

I’m hanging on

tossed by the sea

in danger of

crashing on the rocks

and sinking

seeking harbor

in the waves

from the hurt

from the hard

seeking refuge

for my broken mama heart

the storms still rage

I struggle every day

help me seek You

THE Refuge

the only place

I’m truly safe

I died too…

I wrote the title to this post on October 1. As I’ve been thinking through it the past few days, I started questioning myself, wondering if “I died too” was too blunt…too harsh. I’ve never been one to sugarcoat things though and the reality is walking the road of child loss can be unpleasantly rough or jarring to the senses which are the definitions of harsh. It can also be brutal, heavy, tough, painful and excruciating which are all synonyms of harsh, so I chose to leave it as is.

It has been three years since my baby left this earth…THREE YEARS. It’s been 1,095 days since I held my sweet boy as he met Jesus. Three years of quiet, heartache, wrestling and learning to hold joy in one hand and sorrow in the other. Three years of figuring out how to face the next day…how to take the next breath.

Paxton wasn’t the only one that died January 25, 2023…the person I was died too. Learning to live life as a bereaved mom has changed me.

~I didn’t have much of a filter before, but it’s completely gone now. Life is too short and too important to not say what I mean, even if it’s hard to say or hard to hear.

~I find it hard to smile in pictures now…especially ones with the kids. I am so proud of Owen and Jenna. They have brought me so much joy but it’s a constant battle between wanting nothing more than to authentically smile in pictures with them and knowing there will be no more pictures with Paxton.

~I see things through a different lens…I know things I wish no one ever had to know or experience. I know what a real “last” is. 

~My relationship with Jesus has changed. I have known Him as my savior and friend. I now know Him as the Son of Suffering…the One who meets me in the trenches, who embraces me as I wrestle and who gently and graciously makes room for my grief.

~My focus is more eternal. I have never longed for heaven more. I was supposed to live the rest of my life with Paxton. It’s a small comfort that he lived the rest of his life with me. What brings me hope, and keeps me going, is knowing I will have eternity with him. I wonder if Jesus will be the first to embrace me and will then reunite me with my son or if Paxton will be the first to embrace me and excitedly introduce me to the Son. Either way, I long for that moment more every day.

There has been beauty raised from the ashes in this journey. There has been good that we have seen, peace that we have felt and joy we have experienced. But the ashes aren’t gone, this is still hard, and I will never be the same. The new me is still being formed. What hasn’t changed is holding on to the promise of Revelation 21:3-4 (NLT)

   3 I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people.  God himself will be with them. 4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”

Come Lord Jesus…

I ceased to exist 

the night you left

a new me is forming

through the fire

and blinding rain

I’m forever changed

my heart covered in scars

longing to be where you are

living for the day

when sorrow and tears

are taken away

I may be different

but one thing remains 

my God is still the same

He loves me

He has already conquered death and

He will redeem my pain