A Letter to Brody

By R.S. Guthrie

Copyright 2011 by R.S. Guthrie Smashwords Edition All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please download an additional copy for each recipient. If youre reading this book and did not download it, then please return to Smashwords.com and obtain your own copy. This allows for better tracking of distribution of this complimentary edition. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

C.S. Lewis wrote, in A Grief Observed:

Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. we not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.

***
No one ever told us that grief felt so like fear.

A Letter to Brody
Dearest Son, We are so afraid. For two months your mother and I were your providers, your protectors, your comfort, your sustainers, and your loving parents. We soothed you when you first came into this cold world, perhaps terrified at the light and air and vastness of space. We wrapped you and held you and fed you and made sure you felt safe from that which surrounded you. But now it is we who are afraid. We are afraid of waking up every hour, waiting to hear you cry, but facing this palpable, enduring silence instead. We are afraid of the predawn hours, before the world comes fully to life, when we used to hold you so close to our hearts that your soft breathing comforted us, reminding us that the coming day did not hold as much strife as we feared. We are afraid of never being able to love another baby as much as we love you; that no other child could ever be as perfect as your were in our lives. We are afraid of the emptiness your brother will feel to never have been able to be your protector, your idol, your friend, and your elder. We are afraid that the peace we feel with Godthe understanding that your mother and I have tried so hard to acceptwill dissolve as the sand dissolves in the ocean. We are afraid that there is an unquenchable anger beneath the surface, an anger toward this random disease with no cause, and that this pain and loss and lack of answers will breach our hearts from within. We are afraid of that chasm in our souls, that cold void that could only be filled with the wonder of your future: your turning over, your crawling, your walking, your talking, and most of all, your leaping into our open arms one day and calling us by name. We are afraid to be crushed by the sheer weight of our sorrow. We are afraid of hearing your voice in our dreams, believing you to have grown old enough to sing to us and to ward off our sorrow, only to wake and to find no such music for our hearts. We are afraid of that which reminds us of the loss of our son: A babys cry. The little boy who runs across the park, his arms outstretched for his parent. The flyer in the mail for baby pictures. The clothing section passed on the way to some other destination, forgotten in the moment. The songs we used to sing. Dr. Seuss. Pacifiers. Blankets.

Strollers. Teddy bears. Rabbits. Picture frames. Formula. Pictures. A case of diapers. A closet of clothes. Winnie the Pooh. We are afraid of the closed door down the hall, where all the things your mother and I acquired in order to clothe you, bathe you, soothe you, love you, pamper you, and protect you have been placed, out of the way, so as not to sting us with their beautiful memories. We are afraid we will never be able to open that door. We are afraid of what weve yet to be afraid of, that memory lurking without sound or warning around the next corner, or in the next rooma memory that does not intend to wound us, perhaps, but will nonetheless. These fears live inside us, Brody, and at times we dont know how to calm them. or ease them, or will them to subside. However, dear son, here is what we believe: we will overcome our fears. Because you reminded your wonderful mother and me of what it means to know perfect love. Because you were a product of the deep love your mother and I have always had for each other. Because you taught us that indeed we love each other ten thousand times more today than the day your were born into our lives. Because we will hold each other until the list of this wayward ship is right again. Because we do believe you were the only perfect thing in our lives, and you would not be taken to hurt us but rather to teach us and to heal us. Because we know our mothers pass you back and forth in Heaven, each eager to hold you in their loving embrace. Because we realize that you now look down upon us and watch over our familyan angel returned for a purpose. Because it comforts us to know you will never feel pain, suffering, or the callousness of this world. Because you will never face the loss of your parents, nor the death of your child, as we have. Because you will never make a single mistake and you will never cause anyone a moment of hurt or anguish. Because each time we looked down upon your bright, curious, unfettered gaze, we caught a glimpse of Heaven, reflected back to us in those bottomless blue eyes.

Most of all, we will overcome our fears because we know you would want us to. And because your mother and I both believe that you served a very grand purpose these past two months: You taught us to laugh again: not from the throat or the lungs or even the stomach, but rather from way down inside our bursting hearts. You offered us new meaning to the word smile. You reminded us that we were all once perfectly joyous, breathlessly innocent, and completely without fault, and that it was the world that changed us. You nurtured in us a perfect, unyielding love, and you helped us to see that love comes not only from the heart, but also from the very depths of our souls. You reinvented the wonder that lived inside us as children; wonder at the miracle of life and wonder that something so precious, so perfectly formed, and so incredibly relevant, was bestowed upon the two of us, bringing us such joy and such pride. You brought into our lives a quiet whirlwind of sweetness and of hope. We love you so much, Brody. And we miss you for all of time, Until we see you again.

Brody