James's Molly Poem

Our nephew James is a very special boy.  I was in the room when he was born, and he and I have had a wonderful connection ever since.  Brendon met James when he was about to turn 2.  They have always had a fun relationship, including an accidental break of Brendon's nose.  Now they mostly play video games together and occasionally throw the football around when Ella doesn't require all of Brendon's attention.  James has grown into a very nurturing, athletic, intelligent, kind 9-year-old.  I love seeing him interact with Cole.  In ways, it feels like James is my "first born."  I am incredibly grateful that my sister has allowed me to be such a big part of his life.

October 2003

James's 3rd Birthday Party 2006

June 2010

June 2010

August 2010

August 2013

 In May, I was having a particularly difficult time.  Mother's Day was approaching, and I was an emotional wreck.  I was feeling pressure from outside of myself to be farther along in my grieving process than I was.  James was writing poetry in school.  Without knowing that I was struggling, he wrote a poem about Molly.  He asked my sister to help him add a photo to the poem so he could give it to me as a gift.  On a rainy Friday, he showed up on my doorstep to give me one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received.

All of the children in my life have handled losing Molly so much differently than I had expected.  My first concern when we found out she was gone was how to tell Cole.  Over and over again, he has surprised me.  As a 3-year-old, he seems to see things that I cannot.  His questions are much easier to answer than I anticipated, and for him, it is simply a fact that he has a sister in Heaven.  Since James is older, his experience has been much different than Cole's.  I am obviously not with him all the time, and I am not privileged to the quiet conversations James and Deanna have about Molly.  However, I know that he has dealt with a confusing, painful situation in amazingly healthy ways.  I am so proud of Cole and our nephews and nieces for how they have handled this loss.  I have learned far more from all of them than they will ever learn from me.

Sorrow makes us all children again -- destroys all differences of intellect. 

The wisest know nothing.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson