When I lost my first born son at age 27, it was devastating to me. So devastating that I suffered a light stroke four months after his loss. It took me nearly twenty years of personal grieving before I began to see many things much more clearly on how I looked at life before and after his passing.
Then, as if by a miracle, I began to recall all the fathers and or mothers that I knew through work, college or church that had also lost a son. The list grew. Year after year as more people that I knew or had contact with began to be included in news special interest programs. Father's that were also dealing with unresolved grief through the loss of their own sons or mothers who were suffering with unresolved grief of their sons also were more apparent.
A few years after I lost my son, I wrote a poem to him which was titled, "I Must Release You". It was later published in hardbound. I had ask that no ISBIN number be included in the space where the copyright, ISBIN and publisher is normally listed. Ironically, a chief librarian that I knew at a Big Ten University had made me aware that in some circumstances, that could be done. I checked it out and submitted a request. After I received my initial published copy, the publisher also included a fairly large supply of cards and envelopes that included the poem. They lay stored in my apothecary cabinet, one of my cherished pieces of wood furniture.
From time to time, I would open that drawer while looking for something else, not because I didn't remember what was stored in various drawers but out of instinct for which I did not understand at the time. Those actions were passed off as just a random muscle memory action.
This past weekend, I saw a post on Twitter by Irish Musician Sinead O'Connor. Her post announced the sudden death of her son, Nevi'im Nesta Ali Shane O'Connor. Reading the post in detail her grief was truly devastating and then doing something that I never have done in the past, I responded to her post mentioning that I,also, had lost a son and can relate to her grief. Like I had done, more or less, that she must release him to go find his better dreams. I had done that for my son after a protracted grieving period that I had endured. My son had died as a result of an undiscovered congenital defect that became terminal suddenly. Shane's death was a personal struggle. At early stages both could have been prevented.
Last night, I had a dream that was more in line of past dreams where something becomes a eureka moment-- such a moment is a moment of sudden, triumphant discovery, inspiration, or insight. One of the first thoughts that I had was God, Almighty had also lost a son--Jesus Christ. That was added to my list but at the Top of the List as I drank my coffee and prepared this post.
An so, those cards that have been safety stored in that specific apothecary drawer, will now be sent to those fathers and mothers that have lost a son all to early in life that I rub an elbow with in my photography.
It is strange how the mind works, but not really, as I do believe that things where we experience special eureka moments are truly Divine Moments. Moments that happen in sudden thoughts or dreams we recall, with or without explanation as a clear reason for justification.
That dream was a mixed up type of dream, too. It centered around my mail carrier and a package from a dear friend that had been in the system for a bit as I tracked it to show my friend how Informed Delivery system works at the US Postal Service. In that follow up process this morning, I came across an envelope for my postman. My package was delivered by him a day early. It's a great day!
