Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Today, May 5th, would have been my son Andrew’s fourth birthday. For those who don’t know me, my son Andrew was born 13 weeks premature, weighing all of 1 pound and (barely) 8 ounces. 65 days, several infections, a thousand needle sticks and an untold number of prayers later, Andrew passed away on July 9th.
The hardest part right now is having a two-year old who misses the brother he never knew. Our son Noah asks about Andrew all the time. It’s a rough thing for a little kid, to have to find about death. Not just bug death, or cartoon death, but real, honest to goodness, never coming back death. Out of the blue, Noah will ask us, “Do you miss Andrew?”, “Are you sad about Andrew?” and the real heartbreaker, “When is Andrew coming home?” We’ve told him about Heaven, which makes the bitter pill of death go down a little easier. But if Heaven is an abstract concept to most adults, I couldn’t begin to understand how a toddler sees it.
I want to thank everyone who keeps Andrew’s memory alive in their thoughts and hearts. The support and love that Jill and I received from family and friends during Andrew’s life and after his death played a significant role in our lives. While we will always grieve for Andrew, it is heartening to know that others honor his time on Earth.