It’s been 13 years since we said goodbye—for now (but thankfully not forever)—to our blue-eyed, squishy-faced, rough-and-tumble sweet boy. Thank goodness for eternity. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him, that I don’t wonder what he would be like at 15. And not a day goes by that I’m not filled with gratitude that death is not the end—that we will be reunited someday.
As I contemplate Tacen and his example in my life, I’m filled with gratitude to watch his siblings here. I’m filled with gratitude for the opportunity to be a mother forever. I’m filled with gratitude for the simple and the hard moments, because they’ve taught me not to take life for granted.
Tacen’s life changed me for the better. It made me softer. It made me more patient. It made me more caring. It made me more empathetic. It’s helped me to become a small part of who I need to be.
I am so thankful for that sweet boy, and I miss him drastically. But I cannot think about the day that he died without remembering the immense peace that filled the hospital room that day. It was indescribable—something I’ve never forgotten in almost a decade and a half.
God is good. He is real. He’s aware of us, and I will testify of that forever. Sometimes we don’t get our miracles, and sometimes life doesn’t look like we thought it would. But life is good, and God is good. He can be trusted, and we can turn to Him in both the good moments and the hard ones.
I am thankful for His amazing plan that allows me the promise of being with my boy forever. I can’t wait for the day that I get to hold him in my arms again—to love him, to hug him, to watch him grow. But for now, I’m 13 years closer—and that’s enough.
