For Dylan Roach

Mid-May is beautiful. The skies are crisp blue, birds chirping, the sounds of lawn mowers and weed eaters – people busy shaping up their yards, planting flowers.

But here in Eaton, tragedy has struck. It seems so strange that the days go on, one after the other, just like they did before. The earth does not stop and mourn. The sun still shines. Everyone else’s children keep playing soccer, keep going to school, keep going to friends’ houses. But one does not.

I didn’t want to write about Dylan losing his life. I feel like I did not know him well enough to have the right. And maybe that’s true. And I am not the mother who is suffering beyond words. I have no comprehension of that depth of pain. But I did know his mother, and I know she adores her children, and always puts them first.

I wouldn’t even consider myself a ‘close family friend’. But those of us who grew up in Eaton are all connected by tiny threads; six degrees of separation. We grew up together, and as “grown-ups” together now – we know how important our loved ones are to each other. We know the emotional investment we all make in our children.

When they are born, we are forever changed. And each child touches us differently. Each little personality, each little soul, makes us who we are. Without their influence, who would we be? Would we be more one-dimensional? Would we understand other parents’ struggles? Would we ever learn the meaning of selflessness?

We see our children with such worshipfulness. They each are gifts, and we know it. We see the perfection of their hearts. All they want is to be loved, to feel secure, to have fun, to eat ice cream and pop tarts, to go exploring, to win games, to be with their friends. We encourage them in the things they love and that bring them joy. We talk to them, hug them, kiss them when others tear down their dreams or hurt them. We help mend their hearts every time they are broken.

A mother’s worst fear is to lose their child – at any age. It is unimaginable. That void is abysmal – and no one can ever fill it. That one dear soul, that left a mark in his little place on earth, was made unique to all others, made with special purpose by God, as all children are.

Why does God take children from us? I can’t begin to answer this. Some say it is because they are needed as angels in heaven. Others say “it was just their time”. Still others say “everything has a purpose under heaven.” And maybe none or all are true. Maybe looking for reasons is futile.

Losing Dylan has hurt so many hearts. While I did not truly know Dylan, I know that now I hug my son longer before bed. I know that his sad and needless death made me, and many other parents, sit with their children and tell them, “If anyone is every hurting you, if you are ever sad or hopeless, if you need me, I’m always here.”

That won’t always be enough to save every child. But when tragedy takes a child from us, we must hold dearly to the ones we have around us or in our care. We must teach our children to be kind and to respect each other. We have to learn to step in when others are hurting.

May Dylan’s death remind us every day not only to cherish our children, but to raise accepting, giving and loving children who treat others as they would want to be treated. We may not be able to change the world, or anyone else's children, but we can invest the very best of us in our own.

Thank you, Dylan, for reminding me of the importance and the responsibility of being a mother.

Soulmates

I love the thought of soulmates. As a young girl, I thought a soulmate would only be the man I would fall in love with - who would "complete" me in some way. I'm thankful to know from my own experience that the definition of soulmate is much broader.

Today, I am thankful for my soulmates. The first is my mother. I feel a vibration in the air before she calls me. Somehow, I always know when it's her on the phone. She knows by a slight tone variation in my voice if I need to talk, or need support. She is my touchstone - if anything happens in my life - I have to talk to her about it.
The second two are my dear friends since 6th grade, Amber and Jackie. We can communicate with just a subtle look, (or a kick under a table), we understand each others struggles, failings, annoying characteristics, and love each other all the same.
The third is my husband. After 15 years together, we often know what the other is thinking, and find a sweet comfort in each other's presence, that only comes after highs and lows, challenges, tears, laughter, joy and pain.
The fourth is my son, Jack. Our souls were somehow cut from the same cloth. I understand the way he internalizes everything, I understand his empathetic nature, and we have a simple, effortless connection. The final is my daughter, Kate. Already, she senses if I feel physical or emotional pain, and nurtures me. She has a little kind heart that always responds to those in need.


The Webster definition of soulmate is:" A person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament or resembles another in attitudes or beliefs."

But this definition doesn't really do it for me.

To me, a soulmate is one with whom you feel an ease. You may not match in temperament, but with the person, you don't have to put on any fronts, you can be who you are - there is no pretentiousness. Your soul feels at home.

So, thank you to my soulmates. I feel so lucky to have found you and to be blessed by you.