06 November 2010

Dear Ewan

Dear Ewan,

It's been just over a month now that you have been gone. The leaves have turned and are falling off the trees, leaving many branches bare. The days are shorter and occasionally punctuated by brightness. It is too quiet here. Before you were born, I knew it might be like this one day -- your dad and I living in a too-quiet space surrounded by your unused things -- but knowing it might be coming and living with the reality of your absence are two very different things.


I think often of the last day I had with you when your eyes were open and you were so alert -- how you moved your mouth as if trying to form words and how I just talked with you: asking you questions which I knew you could not answer, telling you how much you amazed me and how much I loved you. I knew from conversations with the doctors that the odds were stacked against us, but I still had so much hope for you. As long as I could look into those eyes, I could not dream of letting you go.

But it seemed clear that no matter how hard we fought to keep you here, there were some setbacks from which your poor little body could not rebound. For your heart and lungs, your liver, your kidneys, and your brain it had just been too much. Even your blood. I was there by your bedside that Sunday afternoon when the most optimistic doctor you had said that any hope we had left was not in medicine.

I miss you, Ewan. It took some time for me for the shock of all that happened and how quickly it happened to wear off, but I knew it would. At first, things had to be done and planned and organized. E-mails had to be answered, calls made. Now life has slowed, and tears rise even more frequently than before. The hurt is settling in more. I have to let you go every day, over and over again.

As I sit here and stare at the screen and beg words to form, knowing I have more to say to you, they won't. The words don't come, and my eyes fill with tears. I know days will come where remembering you will be easier and the words will pour forth freely. But for now I will let all of this remain wordless, and instead let my heart ache and my eyes sting.

It won't always be this way, I know. Even now, we are able to welcome laughter and life into our days. But it does not surprise me that most of the time, I need to let the newness of it all settle more into my bones, and I find myself needing to let go again and again.

20 comments:

Kelly Sauer said...

Reading quiet. I feel almost as if I'm eavesdropping... How I wish I could carry that ache for you.

Dillie-O said...

Still loving and praying...
Sean

hopeannfaith said...

Being still. Praying for your comfort and peace. Thank you.
Andrea (Hopeannfaith)

Rebecca said...

Crying in the quiet with you, and praying with groans.

I send you my love, Kirsten, for you and for Ewan.

christianne said...

Your love for Ewan is so beautiful, my friend.

Anonymous said...

A dear friend of mine who lost her daughter told me recently, "People say,'Time heals wounds.' It doesn't. Time doesn't make the pain go away, but it does allow the Holy Spirit to make your heart grow bigger so you're able to live and love richly in spite of the pain." I thought that was so profound and such a great example of God's grace when we're in need. I love you, friend, and will continue to pray for your heart to grow even more, that you may live and love even more richly in spite of the pain.

Summer

Shay said...

beautiful. still praying! xoxo

terri said...

everything i start to say here seems so puny. i'm so sad for you and james and the emptiness of your mama and papa arms. love you.

Megan said...

Praying for you sweety. Know that my soul knows exactly what you are feeling my dear. I am trying to let go of my heartache day to day as well. I'm sure your sweet Ewan, and my Savannah have met in heaven and have a great friendship together!
All my love,
Megan@ A story unfolding.

Anonymous said...

I weep for you. For James. But most of all I weep that for every "first" you do not get to experience with Ewan, you lose all over again. My heart was heavy as I dressed my children for Trick or Treating. I cried because I knew you would never get to experience that with Ewan. I cried as I put a new photograph in a frame. As the years roll by, Ewan will forevermore be a tiny infant in a photograph. You will have no 10 year old picture. And for that, I weep most my friend. It is not supposed to be this way. Your loss tears at my heart.

Shannon Egan

Tiffany said...

I'm so, so sorry.

Ewan has a lovely mama. And you know what? I think he knew that all along.

felmleyfam said...

so tearful. we are mourning with you and continuing to intercede to the Father on your behalf. may your eyes continue to look to Christ, where your help comes from. thanks for sharing your deep sorrow, that we might bear your burden in spirit and in prayer. so sorry for your great loss. the pictures of ewan gazing at his momma are ones we cherish as well, what love he had for his momma. so amazing, that they KNOW their momma so well, afterall he heard you for those short months in your womb, he knew your voice, your laugh, your tears and James as well. thankful you had those times, and cherished those kicks and movements, that the Lord used those times to draw you even nearer to Himself and nearer to your dear son. again, so sorry for your loss.

Carolina Carters said...

Thinking of you always...

We moved several weeks ago, right after Ewan was born I think. I was shocked one day as I was driving home shortly after he passed to notice a road sign with so-and-so (can't even remember the first name) Eliezer on it. As I paid attention, there were about three different roads on that route with the last name Eliezer. It's not a common name around here, but apparently it was at some time. I cant even remember what any of the first names on the signs are, but I can assure you, every single time I leave my house I think of your little Ewan Eliezer. And every time I see his name I say a little prayer for his mommy and daddy.

Lisa said...

no words are right. this is beautiful, Kirsten. Praying for you and James still.

Sarah said...

Let it go, friend . . . let it go. I love you.

Erin said...

You have such a beautiful way with words. May God continue to give you strength.

Mimi said...

This post is wonderfully written- reaches the soul! I wish I could give you a huge hug! maybe I will someday!

-a fellow heart mom

jacksta said...

Dear Kirsten. By chance I came about your blog tonight and have read your journey from start to today. I sit in tears all the way from New Zealand, some how connected through this screen. Your words of grief and pain meet my heart and it pains for you and your husband. But your words of faith in a God who knows all, encourages me so much. Thank you so much for sharing this journey. Your beautiful little man has touched the heart of a mummy a world away and I feel I will be forever changed. Thanks so much. xxx

Anonymous said...

Dear Kirsten,

I have not been blogging since mid summer and just got back on to check and see how you are. I am so very sorry to read about your loss of your precious one. Thank you for sharing your heart journey with so many. May God continue to grant you peace in the midst of the storm.

Anonymous said...

I bet if Ewan could write back it would be something like this:

Dear Mom,

Thank you. I know this is not the way it is supposed to be, but thank you for doing everything you were supposed to do. Thank you for praying for me. Thank you for getting thousands of people to pray for me. Thank you for hoping for me. Thank you for preparing a place for me when you knew I may never see it. Thank you for fighting for me. Thank you for giving me a chance, even when our future together was portrayed as bleak. Thank you for letting yourself fall in love with me, even though you new it would be a risk. Thank you for accepting the gift of peace and for BEING present with me in he hospital. Thank you for your beautiful words to me, and thank you for the silence. When it is quiet, that is when we are close. When you are longing for me, and your heart feels like it is broken...know that I am longing for you too. Thank you Mom...

Love,
Ewan