The poesy he smells is so small we can barely see it in his pudgy fist. (We would have overlooked it — there were so many tiny flowers hidden in the grass that day.) It is a thing of wonder to him. As he is a wonder to us all. His curls and creamy skin, his brown eyes kissed by innocence.
See how he clutches his little dog? What a comfort it is to to him to have it, his reassurance for the times when the world is a scary place to be. (Remember when it was that simple?)
Had you known what the future held, you might have wished to stop time, to freeze that moment forever, because surely there would never be another so perfect. But then you would have missed the astonishing mystery of him as he grew into a man. A child so fierce in his conviction that he damn well KNEW when didn’t want to nap, and if you tried to make him he would scream until you got him up. You would have missed his shyness, his goofiness, his sweet, sweet laughter. His unflinching loyalty to the people he most loved.
Even between the grooves of anxiety and worry that spun the record of your relationship there was still laughter. Moments of silliness and forgetting. And love, always love. A child cries and a parent wants to hold him. That is the way of life. When that’s gone we grieve not only for our immediate loss, but for what might have been. We grieve for the potential that will never be fulfilled.
But there is this to keep: the memory of a sunny day and the single pleasure of watching a child smell a flower just because it’s there. A child who was then as he will forever be.
A beautiful boy.
n.b. For my dear, dear friend Andy whose loss I feel and whose pain I share. And for sweet Dillon. . . . and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
A Wilderness of Words 
Beautiful picture of a sweet, sweet moment. This is so moving Mary. Thanks for writing it and for the share.
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Thanks for reading and commenting, Deb. I deeply appreciate it.
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Painfully exquisite dear Mary.
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Thanks, Ray. This is a sad loss for you as well, and I am so sorry for that.
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Oh Mary, Thank you for remembering my poor boy and a single, perfect day — and for reminding me that “the highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.”
― Thornton Wilder
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How could I not remember him? Remembering him in words seems such a small contribution in the face of such a loss. I do love that Wilder quote, and believe it with all my heart.
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Beautiful indeed! And for the record, stuffed animals still help, even when you’re older. They do for me, anyhow. 🙂
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Thanks, Jen. Stuffed animals never held any comfort for me, I was such a practical child (while still being dreamy, which seems like such a contradiction). I find that writing is my comfort, so there’s that.
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This is gorgeous – the picture and the prose.
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Thank you. You are kind.
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Perfect, Mary. You are a good friend indeed.
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Thanks, Ronnie. And as always, thank you for reading my blog.
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This is a perfect tribute. I am sorry Jack for your loss.
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Thank you. I appreciate your comment, and I know Jack does, too.
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Wow, I didn’t anticipate where this was going … I got lost in the beautiful prose like the beautiful boy got lost in the scent of a tiny flower…Beautiful, and my warm blessings to you. H xxx
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Thank you for your words, Harula, and your blessings.
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What a beautiful memory and sentiment. So sorry for you loss.
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Thank you so much. Your words are much appreciated.
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very touching, Mary. He was such a sweet boy and he was surrounded by a loving family.
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This is so powerful and moving, Mary, sweet and tragic. My thoughts and prayers are with his family.
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This hit me hard, Mary. I’m so sorry.
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what a beautiful child – one knows not the future and a picture is a thousand words, at least. What a beautiful boy, indeed… my thoughts and prayers for you and your family
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Pingback: Word Wishes for Dillon, Wherever He May Be … by @jackaurquhart | Jack Andrew Urquhart
Lovely tribute to the heart of this child. I’ll say a prayer for everyone who was lucky enough to be touched by his light.
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Thanks so much, Kitt. Prayers are much appreciated.
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Way to go Mary! London is a great place to visit.
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Thanks, Clay. You didn’t do so bad yourself. That’s what I love about Susie – she makes everything so much fun. I’m actually heading to England (though, not London) next week. I hope to post from there!
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