Those of you who have followed Wesley's story know the deep passion he had for music. Sometimes I think that is one of the only things he got from me. Everything else about him was his Daddy through and through. From his white-blonde hair to the perfectly rounded toes on his feet, his confident walk to his innate curiosity for what made things work. He had a passion for so many things, but music- that was our bond. We both could feel the beat deep in our soul. Sometimes it was as if our hearts were beating as one as we got lost in the melody. As a baby, I rocked him gently to soothing melodies to help him fall asleep. Some days we swayed back and forth across his nursery floor as I hummed tunes softly in his ear. As he got older, we blared music loudly and danced around like no one was watching. We laughed so hard he often fell over giggling. But our favorite way to feel our music was rolling down the windows and singing loudly as we drove in the car. Oh how he loved the wind blowing in his hair and belting out his favorite tunes. I miss those days. I am not a singer, I can't play any instruments (although I am a self-proclaimed tambourine player) - but music is my language of choice. My husband and boys say they can always tell what kind of mood I am in by the type of music I am listening to. I suppose it's true.
This week has been especially hard for me and I have once again found solace in burying myself in my music. I have a playlist I made called "Finding Peace" that I listen to when I feel like I am not connecting with God, and just need something to speak to my soul. Sometimes I cry so hard I can't see, sometimes I find enough strength to give me the grace to get through another day. And every now and then, I find joy in knowing Wesley is right where I always prayed he'd be one day. I just never thought it would be so soon.
As all of the children are heading back to school, I am reminded that this is Wesley's year for kindergarten and my heart is broken into a million pieces. The tears keep flowing like water and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to stop them. I am sad for the moments I am missing. I wonder what he would look like. I know he wouldn't be nervous. He'd be confident knowing his big brother would check on him throughout the day. Without a doubt, he would have walked in excited for his next step. I am heartbroken, but I wonder if Wesley is feeling this "first day of school excitement" every day? After all, he has the best teacher anyone could possibly ask for.
Today, instead of getting lost in my sadness I am going to take myself back to those moments I loved so deeply. I am going to roll my windows down, let the sun shine warmly on my face and sing our favorite songs like no one is watching. I am going to look into my back seat and see his white-blonde hair blowing in the wind, remember the warmth of the smile on his face and live today in confidence knowing he is doing the same in heaven. This will be my "Sound of Surviving."
Lost in the music,