Dear Middle Child:
The last letter I wrote to you was sent too late. I felt I hardly knew you as I hadn’t seen you in 5 years. I always wanted to know what TV shows you watched, what made you laugh, who was your favorite movie star, what kind of foods you favored lately, and were you spending time with God now and then.
I would have loved one more long talk on the phone with you.
I am so sorry I didn’t call you back sooner that day. You had already left the hotel and didn’t have your phone with you…but how was I to know it probably would have been our last talk….or would anything I said to you change your mind that day.
What would we have talked about that day when you called. What last thoughts did you want to tell me. I may have been able to tell that you were so depressed and alone and confused. I would have told you how much God loved you and if you would cry out to him everything would be better–That I loved you much more than you would realize and would do anything to help you out of your misery. But would it have matter what I said?
Or was time against us and you had already decided what you needed to do to find freedom from your pain.
I will never know what our last words would have been to each other and I guess it is just as well. That day you sat alone under the pine trees smoking your 7 cigarettes; what were you thinking? Were you thinking that nobody would care if you were gone? Were you hurting so much physically too that you wanted to have rest? I would hope you were talking to God and telling him why you had to come to him on your timing and not his. That you just couldn’t take it anymore and that you hoped he wouldn’t be mad at you.
I want to blame myself for your troubling life.
When I became pregnant three months after your brother was born, I was not in a good state of mind. When you were born and the doctor told me it was a boy, I was so disappointed and didn’t even want to see you. When I did see you, I didn’t want to claim that baby as my own. Looking back I suppose I would have been diagnosed with some hormonal disorder and given some meds to help me cope. But I took you home and I feel you sensed my uneasiness. But son, I loved you as much as a mother can love a child.
You had a beautiful smile and as you grew up you made me laugh and when you got big enough you would twirl me around in the kitchen….I knew that meant you loved me too. And then you got saved and made me rethink my faith walk and I soon got saved. That was such a blessing you gave me. “If only” I knew the Lord back then when you were small. You may have had a better chance in life having parents that prayed together with you and taught you God’s words of hope and healing.
I will never get over losing you.
You are on my mind day and night and in between. It has been 6 years now that we learned you decided to end your life. Son, I pray you are waiting up there for me . I was never mad at you and I am still trying to forgive myself for not being there, not calling you more often, not going to you even when you said you didn’t want to see me.
I must tell you this. One day about a year after you left us, I saw someone walking across a parking lot and it sure did look like you. I know your walk. Even though I didn’t see a face, I felt it was God giving me a sign that you were okay. You were wearing a white hat, white shorts, white shirt and white tennis shoes. Was it you?
I will chose to say it was. I hope that I will see you again someday.
Dear Anonymous,
Oh how I hope you see your son again soon! I pray you can turn your thoughts toward the home in heaven where he resides and away from the questioning doubts that linger within you. Thank you for the beautiful letter from your heart that stirs us all. Blessings!
Dear Reader,
Are there lingering thoughts that have left your doubting and questioning? Do those thoughts draw your attention away from God? Today may you think on Him and the heavenly home we all have waiting for us!
This letter hurts to read! I am so sorry for your loss and pray that God gives you peace.
I have a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes and a renewed resolve to treat and love each of my children equally. I have a middle son, and sometimes he feels slighted. How does that happen? How do we let that happen?
My brother Rodney was the middle child and he always felt that way. The last year of his life, he tried to ask our father why he wasn’t good enough, why he brought so much disappointment to his father and his family. My brother couldn’t asked him in person, but he did write it down on paper. Two days after my brother died, my family and I were in my brother’s apartment cleaning and gathering his affects. I had found the questions on a peice of paper and set them out so my father would see them. I watched my father pick it up, read it briefly, then go out on the patio to read the rest of it. Then I watched my father take his lighter and burn the paper. He didn’t know I had already seen it. It took me almost two years to muster up enough courage to ask my father the questions my brother could not ask in person. My father seemed stunned that I was asking and said he wasn’t sure why I was bringing this up. I then alluded to the paper and the questions. My father refused to answer my( my brother’s) questions. My father never brought the subject up again and in his own way, made it clear that I would not bring it up again as well. I had always respected my father, but the way he handled this has always baffled me and hurt me. I know those questions hurt my father to the core, just after he burned the paper on the patio, he cried harder than I had ever seen him cry before. My father passed away four years after my brother, I honestly think the deep regret lead him to an early grave. I still love my father and hope that he and my brother have finally had that long talk they both never could seem to have while on Earth!