I’ve thought a lot about Regina in the past several days. I keep wondering why…why her…why my son…why Ethan T….why Nima and Jaziah and all the others. But then I heard the song Corner of the Sky from Pippin. Show me a reason and I’ll soon show you a rhyme, it says. To me that means stop searching for answers to questions that cannot be answered. There probably aren’t any answers that would satisfy me concerning Ethan’s death anyway.

But I like the thought that maybe our kids needed their corner of the sky. Their spirits needed to run free.

I can imagine our children telling us, “So don’t ask where I’m going, just listen when I’m gone. And far away you’ll hear me singing softly to the dawn.”

Ethan, my son, I am listening.

CORNER OF THE SKY

Everything has its season
Everything has its time
Show me a reason and I’ll soon show you a rhyme
Cats fit on the windowsill
Children fit in the snow
Why do I feel I don’t fit in anywhere I go?

(Chorus)
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I’ve got to be where my spirit can run free
Got to find my corner of the sky

Every man has his daydreams
Every man has his goals
People like the way dreams have of sticking to the soul
Thunderclouds have their lightning
Nightingales have their song
And don’t you see I want my life to be something more than long

(Chorus)

So many men seem destined to settle for something small
But I won’t rest until I know I’ll have it all
So don’t ask where I’m going just listen when I’m gone
And far away you’ll hear me singing softly to the dawn

(Chorus)

Diana Ross: Corner of the Sky (LIVE)!

Summer

One of the best things about having Summer, other than enjoying her delightful personality, is how she reminds me of times with my other kids that I’d forgotten. She is a cross between the two.

Ethan

Ethan was an exceptional baby. I knew it and was immensely grateful. He smiled and laughed at a young age. He was almost always in good spirits. He slept through the night by three months. He was fun and cuddly.

Ava’s time as a baby is a blur to me. Even though her photos show a smiling adorable girl, most of the time she cried and wailed as if she were being tortured. I think she had painful gas. She never slept well. In fact, it wasn’t until a couple months ago that she began to sleep soundly through the night. I always thought Ava was a beautiful child but difficult as a baby.

Ava

Summer is pretty laid back. She likes to smile but rarely makes noise. Watching her laugh is like watching a silent movie. Wide gummy mirth and no volume. When she does speak, it’s in Kung Fu speak…the grunting, squealing sounds made by the guys doing karate in bad martial arts films.

Like Ethan, she seems to be an observer and is content to study the world around her. Ava is usually too busy chatting and dashing about to look around. Like Ava, I think Summer will be athletic. She moves constantly. Her right leg bounces up and down nonstop except when her foot is crammed in her mouth and she’s sucking on her toes.

Summer

Summer is also a drooler. Mommy is her favorite spit rag. We probably go through a half role of paper towels a day mopping up the vomit and drool. She sleeps better than Ava but not nearly as well as Ethan. Overall, she’s a pleasant baby and for that I am very, very thankful.

When Ethan was alive I used to think I was the luckiest parent. I had a boy and a girl, and the boy was older. It was ideal in my mind especially when I thought of other parents who kept having children because they had girls and wanted a boy or vice versa. However, life has always knocked me down whenever I feel too good. I always thought it was to keep me from getting a big head…to stay grounded.

Now here I am talking to nosy checkers at the grocery store who tell me, “Oh, you only had girls?”

“No, I had a son, he died.”

“Oh, sorry. What happened? Was he sick or something?” She stops scanning the groceries and turns to face me while the line grows longer.

“He and his grandfather drowned.”

“Really.” Big eyes. “How terrible. How did it happen.”

Sigh. “They bumped heads and were knocked unconscious.”

The lady behind me tries to avoid my eyes but she’s intently listening. I wonder when the cashier will stop talking and start working.

“What a strange accident. How sad.”

“Yes.”

“How old was he?”

“Six.”

“So young. You know I had a nephew who almost drowned.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She continues scanning my groceries and tells me about her nephew. Ava sits silently in the cart. Summer is quiet.

I have two beautiful girls. I once had a son, but won’t actually ever raise a son. I thought I had a perfect little family. If I had a big head, I don’t anymore. I have a wonderful family, but now it’s incomplete. Still, I have two girls who keep reminding me of what I have to be thankful for, and they are at the top of my list.

I am sad today like I was a year ago, I’ve just learned to manage it better. There are certain thoughts that bring tears. There are dark places I cannot go or risk an emotional attack. I now gingerly step around the ruts in the road. I’m not healed. I’m just hobbling along.

I also have not written because the few minutes of spare time I have each day I want to spend with my son. I’ve been going through old photo CDs and watching my son grow. It feels good to laugh at memories I’d forgotten. I avoid more recent pictures because then I’m seeing the end of a story. When I was a child, I always cried when Mary Poppins flew away leaving Jane and Michael Banks with their parents. Ethan did too. You’re supposed to feel happy for the Banks family since Mary has helped them become a stronger more loving family. But I always wanted to know why Mary couldn’t stay.

David and I spent some time on the couch together looking at photos and remembering. He later thanked me for it and said I should feel comfortable talking about Ethan at any time. I do, but what can I say that I haven’t already said?

Ava still cries occassionally. When she makes a wish, it is for her brother to be alive. While climbing the play structure recently, she needed a lift and wished her brother could be there to give her a boost. We wish he could have been here to help her go to kindergarten. They could have shared a seat on the bus. Instead we put her in a private kindergarten with a very small class and explained to the teacher that Ava frequently talks about her brother, which means Miss Amber, you may have to discuss death with your five-year-olds.

David and I are already losing track of Ethan’s age. He would be going into second grade. Oops. No, the third grade. He would be seven. Oops. No, eight-years-old. What would he look like? How tall would he be? Would he be tired of Star Wars?

It has been a deeply, deeply sad summer. And now the air turns cool in the morning, green leaves transform into gold and red, and jack-o-lanterns and costumes appear in the stores. This, more than the anniversary of Ethan’s death, feels like the end of our first year without him.

Please, keep this little girl and her family in your thoughts and prayers.

Sometimes I am so frustrated because I don’t understand a God who would let this keep happening. I and other bereaved parents have certainly felt enough pain to last an eternity. So why make another parent go through this?

I attended a baby shower recently for a friend from Ghana. During one of the activities, we drew African sayings from a bag and then shared our thoughts about them. I don’t remember the exact words but the saying I pulled was “No one shows God to a child.”

My child knows God intimately now.  My extended family consists of atheists and devout Christians. My son, who had no religious training, insisted that God exists. He talked about God quite a bit when he was alive. Is that God speaking through him?

Still, how do you explain a God who takes children from their parents? What reason could there be? Did we do something wrong? Are we bad people? That can’t be it because people who are cruel and violent to others have children who don’t die. People who are devoutly religious sometimes lose children.

The other day I got stuck behind a massive SUV with a stick-family decal on the back window. The decal showed six happy kids, and I couldn’t help but think why do they get six bouncy children while I struggled to have my three and then lost one?

Lots of questions and never any answers. I’m left only with a certainty that the right thing to do is to keep marching forward, try to be a good person, help others, and don’t allow bitterness or anger to destroy the gifts I’ve been given.

Happy Birthday sweetheart. I’m thinking of you and the wonderful day you came into our world.

Nils Landgren – A Child Is Born (live)

Now out of the night
New as the dawn into the light
Oh this child, innocent child,
Soft as a fawn
This child is born
One small heart
One pair of eyes
One work of art
Here in my arms
Here he lies
Trusting and warm
Blessed this bond
A child is born

Now out of the night
New as the dawn into the light
Oh this child, innocent child,
Soft as a fawn
This child is born
One small heart
One pair of eyes
One work of art
Here in my arms
Here he lies
Trusting and warm
Blessed this bond
A child is born

These pictures were taken on our trip to the Big Island. I was pregnant. The salty air made my stomach turn. After we returned home I miscarried. I went to the doctor’s appointment alone and remember sitting in the hot car crying and calling David to tell him the news. It was our first loss.

Please keep Ethan and his parents, Angie and Mark in your thoughts on Aug. 8.

Below are some details about Ethan. For more information, check out Angie’s blog.

Angie, I hope you are able to spend this week remembering the good times with your son, and maybe he is now guiding souls as he said in the dream. If so, I hope our Ethans have found each other. They’d make a good pair, and my Ethan always wanted a big brother.

Peace to you, my friend.

Ethan Thompson 16, of Pine Mountain Valley died Friday, August 8, 2008 in Hamilton. Funeral services will be held 11:00 AM on Tuesday, August 12, 2008 at Kings Pasture Church, Hamilton with Pastor Gino Zalunardo, officiating, assisted by pastor Randy Puckett and Pastor Ben Ogletree, according to Cox Funeral Home, Hamilton. Interment will follow in Roosevelt Memorial Cemetery, Pine Mountain Valley. Visitation will be from 6 – 8 PM Monday at Kings Pasture. Ethan was born November 22, 1991 in Columbus, the son of Mark and Angie Thompson. He was a junior at Harris County High School where he was a member of the Tiger football team and tennis team. Ethan was an active member of Kings Pasture Church where he was greatly admired and served as a youth leader and a member of the youth band. He also played Recreation League Soccer and enjoyed hunting, fishing and playing the guitar. Ethan was a special young man with a unique sense of humor who was loved by everyone he met. Ethan is survived by his parents, Mark and Angie Thompson of Pine Mountain Valley; brother, Zach Thompson of Pine Mountain Valley; paternal grandparents, Aubrey and Catherine Thompson of Columbus and several cousins, aunts and uncles.

Oddly enough, in the few days prior to Ethan’s death, I had been going through my old pictures. I’d loaded many of the pictures onto my computer and to my Flickr account. It turned out to be fortuitous that I’d done so. I was hundreds of miles from home but had a catalog of Ethan’s life at my fingertips. I spent hours compiling a slideshow for the memorial.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about how lucky I am to have two wonderful daughters. They are my reason for living.

He misunderstood the lyric “you’re the saddest bunch I’ve ever met.” He insisted on saying “you’re the saddest butt I’ve ever met.” I corrected him over and over again, and pretty soon it was just a joke to see how many times he could say butt.

So, of course, Ava wanted to hear this song. We sat in the driveway. She chatted on and on about the song, while I cried and nodded grateful for my sunglasses so she wouldn’t be upset because I was upset.

She’s been talking so much about Ethan the past couple weeks. She must have noticed our sadness. I think she’s been a little sad too. One day she wanted to act out her fourth birthday as it should have been, not what it was.

“Mommy we’re going to have water balloons right?”

“Yes.”

“And I want a pinata, a parrot. Ethan can have a rocket.”

“Absolutely.”

“We’ll invite our friends from school.”

“Sounds good.”

“We’ll try to hit the pinata. OK? You’ll put candy in it? Right? Like Skippy John Jones. Ethan liked Skippy John Jones.”

Ava has another birthday coming up. She’ll be five. I’ve already thought about how strange it will be when she turns six, and then seven…when she outlives her brother — the boy who never became a man.