There's no tragedy in life like the death of a child. Things never get back to the way they were.

Dwight D. Eisenhower

Saturday, August 10, 2013


Let me see redemption win,
Let me know this struggle ends,
That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn.
I wanna know a song can rise,
From the ashes of a broken life,
And all that's dead inside can be reborn...
I'm worn.        
                          Tenth Avenue North

Five years today and there isn't much to say that hasn't already been said.  We wake up every morning and he is still gone.  Each new day is having to say goodbye again and again.

We still don't understand why this was God's will for us and for Mark, but we hold tight to His unfailing love and the promise of heaven.
 What a day that will be, when my Jesus (and Mark) I shall see!

Monday, October 1, 2012


As the blog is named...we are missing Mark...and there isn't any better way to say it.  Life isn't the same in this house and all of us have been forever changed.  
But, even more than that, WE are missing.  A part of us...gone.  It's different for me than it is for my husband and our girls each suffer the loss in their own way.

I miss the part of me that died when he died.  The innocent...the joyful.  The part of me that couldn't wait to take pictures of the kids and hang them on the wall...the part of me that was always hoping someone would ask me how many children I had...the part of me that woke up every morning feeling overwhelmed with blessings. 

Now...without it...without all of me...I have a hard time wanting to pick up the camera.  There will never be any more pictures of Mark and never a picture with all of my children together.  Scrapbooks sit on my shelves unfinished and I have no desire to finish.  Old pictures remind me of what we used to be, and new ones scream loudly the gaping hole where Mark should be. 

Now, I dread the, "How many children do you have?", question.  The question itself is not difficult.  I have 5 children.  But, it is the following questions and conversation that always end up giving the "asker" more information than they really wanted to know.  It then leads to the "how?" know...where I have to then explain how my son drowned.  Yes...that.  As much as I believe in my heart that such a terrible accident can happen to anyone and as much as I know what responsible and competent parents we are...the guilt will always be there.  And I will always feel the judgement of others, whether real or perceived, when I have to tell them what happened. 

And now, with that part of me gone...I wake up every morning and know that if I think too long about how much it hurts to have lost will be difficult to make it through the day.  Suppression works much better.  I'm doubtful that there will be a point in time that we will accept what happened.  How do you accept something like that?  How do you ever get to a place where you can be okay with that?  I know it happened and that he is really gone, but to one day not feel the overwhelming pain of it all? 

We miss him.  We miss US.  Fortunately, we love each other and find ourselves in the trenches of this grief war together.  I hate it that my girls have to go through this, perhaps it is the Lord's will to mold them into incredible women through this very trial.  That is the most that I can hope for...that beauty will come from these ashes. 




Friday, August 10, 2012


This year...

four years from the last time that I held you...

I feel held.

Two months (years) is too little, they let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling

Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

If hope if born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait for one hour
Watching for our Savior

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Here it is again...Mark's birthday.  And, despite my toddler-like objections, these ever painful reminders of our son's absence still come.  His birthday, the day of the accident, the day of his death, every holiday...well, you get the picture.  And, although it has taken me all almost 4 years, I am starting to realize that it is just another day without him.  I miss him from the moment I wake up until I lie down at matter what the day.  Now, having said that, I still admit that I would have liked to wake him up with a birthday tickle and made him some waffles for breakfast, which I am sure that he would have loved!  Then, we could have opened some big boy presents like Hot Wheels or Legos wrapped in Spiderman wrapping paper and celebrated tonight with a cake decorated in tractors or racecars or random sports equipment.  Just to hear his voice...I dream of it.  Missing these things doesn't make my heart hurt any more than it already does, but it does make tonight's bedtime a little more welcome. 

Now, have you seen the movie Tangled???  Somehow, even though it has been out for quite a while and all of my girls have seen it...I just watched it for the first time two days ago.  To most, just  a typical animated love story...but for much more.  The pain in the king's eyes as he gets ready to release lanterns on the birthday of his missing daughter...well, I have never seen so much anguish in the face of a cartoon character.  It was so real...and I felt it all.  And admittedly, felt a little stupid for identifying with animation.

At the end of the movie, Rapunzel is holding her true love in her arms as he finally dies from a stab wound.  Her magical tears begin to fall and they miraculously bring him back to life.  In that moment, I longed to be there.  I pictured myself holding my son's lifeless body and wished that there had been a way for my tears to bring him back to me.  So silly, but yet, so real to me.

Rapunzel arrives at the palace to reunite with her parents after so many years...the joy was overwhelming as they embraced each other.  Anyone watching the movie would feel the happiness that such a situation would bring.  For me, I could initially only feel jealousy that it wasn't me and Mark.  Then, I felt a peace within as I remembered that it will will be.  Until then, my heart will just remained "tangled". 

Happy 6th birthday son.  It's bedtime.