What (I think) I've learned

Next month marks the 14th anniversary of what was, until 15 months ago, the most heart breaking experience of my life.

My fourth child, a little boy named Mason, was born very prematurely in my fifth month of pregnancy. I said hello and goodbye to him, while holding him in my arms, in a matter of minutes. At the time,I couldn't imagine a worse thing to experience. Today, I not only can imagine it, but am living it.

After having to bury my infant child, I learned. I learned to never let go unspoken the true depth of my love for another human being. From that day forward, I NEVER allowed my anger or frustration to make me forget what was really important to me. Even when they drove me to distraction,(as, especially, teenagers can do) I always tried to make sure my children knew how very much I loved them. There were even a few times I literally told them " I love you SO much, and as angry as I am, I'm so grateful you are here to be angry at." I was far from perfect. I messed up, I made mistakes, I lapsed on occasion. But I also held my children a little longer, I talked to them more often, and every single solitary day, I relished them.

Mason's death helped me put life in perspective. Without that grief, and the changes I made because of it, THIS grief would be harder to bear. His death toughened my heart to withstand pain and not only survive, but, armed with my new found knowledge, to thrive. Because I learned, my relationships became stronger, my bonds with my children were better able to weather the stormy periods. Mason's brief and fleeting life made me understand tomorrow is not a given, it is a privilege. I learned to appreciate the moments, the minutes, the seconds, of my time with my children. Thank's to Mason, I have very few "if only" moments.

My last living memory of Josh is him stopping by unannounced. (as he was prone to do a couple of times a week) I remember we were busy doing something, but for the life of me I couldn't tell you what. I do remember making a conscious decision to stop what I was doing and spend time with him. He was only here a short while, and before he headed out again, while we were standing in the kitchen, he threw his arms around both my husband's and my neck, with a HUGE smile on his face, and told us "I sure do love you guys!" I had no way of knowing that a week later he would be gone forever. I had no clue that was going to be the last time. No one will ever know how grateful I am for taking the time to relish THAT moment, for hugging him back, for telling him how much I loved him too, for not just assuming I could make time for him later.

Mason's birth and death gave me the gift of not regreting my final moments with Josh. He altered my world for the good. How many of us manage to have that kind of an impact on someone else in ten minutes or less? There are worse legacies to leave, far worse. Though his life span was almost non existent compared to mine, perhaps he was only here as long as he needed to be. Perhaps, he was a wise old soul who only needed those few minutes to do the work of a lifetime.

Thinking about Josh's death, I can't help but wonder if it was Josh's "time". There are a multitude of different ways to meet death, from the mundane and expected to the bizarre and unannounced. Why should I assume Josh's death was any different from someone Else's death because he took his own life? From the very beginning, I've never really thought of his suicide as a "choice" on his part. In my heart I've believed, that in his mind, he had no choice other than to do what he did.

So perhaps, just perhaps, Josh's work here was done...and the rest of us had to stay in order to learn our lessons. I will never cease to wish he were still here with me, but I hope to embrace the lessons he is still teaching me.

Don't let today be the regrets of tomorrow. If you love someone,

Tell them.

Hold them.

Cherish them.

Life is short my friends. And I'm not talking about my own.

Trust me.