Daniel,

 

         When I started putting an annual Christmas letter to you in your stocking at Christmas, I wasn't sure how long it would continue. The year you passed so suddenly I had so many things I needed to tell you. There were things I was not sure you knew.  Last year, I began placing them electronically, here and on your Forever Missed page.  

          This past year has been very hard.  You have been gone now for fifteen years, and your brother Matthew has been gone for a year.  I know you have a basic perspective of how things are or will be, but again, from me, we are doing our best. Some days, we do better than you might anticipate and you would be proud of us.  Other times, it's hard to put one foot in front of the other, and to clean and organize for Christmas when sometimes we might prefer just to skip it this year.

           Your memory has never faded.  Your jokes, your comments and your attitudes about things are never forgotten, and they are still a source of amusement here.  Only one of the animals here on the farm that you knew when you were here, still remain alive.  Fifteen years is a long time in the animal kingdom. Warrior Princess Camellia (the black alpaca) still remains alive, although she is quite elderly.  She is doing quite well medically at this moment, but as most alpacas do, she will eventually become ill, usually within the course of one day, and pass before the next. She still lives a beautiful life and we hope she remains as long here as possible.  I know that you will he there to encourage her when she does eventually depart.

            I love you so, Daniel.  Please take good care of Papa Lawrence, your brother Matt and the others there with you, including the animals. I know they will try to do the same for you.

            Your "Turkish brother" Onur has provided a picture of what you might look like if you had remained on Earth and I have posted it above.   I love you wider than the oceans and deeper than the seas. Yes, including the inland sea on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia. 

(Black and white picture was added to Gallery)

In a month it will have been eleven years since the Autumn morning in which Daniel collapsed and died, just feet from where I am typing this.  There have been many changes. Daniel's sister grew up, graduated from college, built a career and has a home and a child. We adopted a son, as per a wish Daniel always had.  Daniel's oldest brother grew up, graduated from university, has his own business, has married and has a child.  His remaining brothers are also making their way in the world.  The dogs Daniel knew here, and the chickens and the ducks are all gone now. Only one alpaca he knew, Camellia, is still living.  Benjamin and Sally, the two remaining dogs he knew, have passed.  The remaining animals on our farm are rescues who joined us following Daniel's departure.  Daniel, In the past eleven years without you, good things and bad things have happened, but we are never without the memory of you. Sometimes even now, I think I catch you out of the corner of my eye, and I'm pretty sure you were there during my last vacation, and during my last hospitalization. We continue to do our best in the fractured timeline.

  Happy twenty-first birthday, Daniel !  I know that once you leave the Earth that celebrations commemorating the age of the flesh suit aren't important, but your birthdays are cherished memories for me, and I need them, so please indulge me for just a moment.  It has now been eight and a half years now since your abrupt departure from the farm, and yet in some ways, it seems like yesterday. You are still discussed here, and we laugh about things that would have amused you. We talk about your friends and what your responses to some of the things they are doing would have been.  Your toddler nephew knows you from pictures and calls you, "Unco Daniel".  Among our many dogs, there are still three dogs, Sally, Sable and Benjamin, who remain here that you knew and loved. They are all very old and will probably join you there soon, but we are very much enjoying their continued presence here, particularly since they remain healthy.

 

                  Please know that I love you with all my heart and that you are missed from here every day. My faith remains strong that God called you for a specific reason and for specific tasks and that is a comfort to me.   I continue to keep the promises I made to you on the day that you were absent from your beautiful flesh suit.  I am sending a hug just like the one we shared, when Papa Lawrence was in the hospital. I know you remember.   Please send my love to him as well.   Happy Birthday, you gorgeous brilliant man !   I have always been so very proud of you, and I still am, even though I don't really know everything you are doing.

 

                I love you, and I still feel your presence sometimes especially when something momentous happens.  Happy Birthday !

 

 

Losing a child brings almost an unworkable quandary. One wants to blot out the last hours and the time surrounding the loss, and yet no one can really remember their child completely and fully without coming to terms with our last few minutes together, even if he may have been unaware of them. The time between my last post and now has been spent finding constructive ways to remember.

I remember that he loved our farm animals so I have been lovingly caring for them and helping them with what seems like their own animal grief. Daniel's fifteen year old German Shepherd, Jake, a rescue had a stroke several weeks ago. My time has largely been spent placing chux under the dog, and turning him every two hours during the day and less often at night. The dog has needed hand feeding and assistance with water. I have not had him euthanized as he is still comfortable and still hydrated. He also seems to understand and enjoy the attention. I have told him that when Jesus or Daniel come, that he is free to go with them, and that I will see him again when it is my turn. One evening, about a week ago, Jake's breathing seemed labored. I sat with him for awhile and when I got up briefly, he passed, easily and quietly. I had irrationally thought that I would somehow see Daniel picking up his dog, but of course, I either didn't or missed his brief visit. Jake was buried and had our customary lovely animal funeral on the farm a day later.