Chandra's Journal
November 26, 2006

For Jordan…

I’ve thought about you all day, little one. The moment my eyes opened this morning, with my head still resting on my pillow, I was overcome with remembering, with imagining. Imagining the hell that your family went through one year ago. Imagining the place where you are. Remembering the day that my little family was invited into your orbit, thankfully.

We talk about you in my home. A lot. My son knows your name and your face. He says your name when he prays. He does not understand the difference, yet, between the place where we live and the place where you live, but he knows that you live, that you exist, and, though he doesn’t quite know how we became related, he knows that you are a part of our family.

This is not the first time that I have desperately wanted contact with someone who lives in Heaven, and I accept that desperation as part of my existence, for the rest of my days. It is the worst of many kinds of pain, I think – the separation. How I hurt with the knowledge of the grief and pain that your mother is feeling today. How unbearable is the gap between them and you.

I understand, from what God tells us, that you have no tears. That all of your needs are met, that every longing has been eternally fulfilled. I honestly don’t think we, as parents, could go on if we didn’t know that, deep, in our soul. So I understand that you don’t feel the emptiness. And I thank God for that.

But I know that your mom does. And I know that your dad does. And I know that your brother does. And all of those who looked at their calendar today and their heart sank because they knew that this was the last day that you lived down here with us. I know that my tears are among many of those who remembered today. I know that my prayers are among many uttered for your family today. And I know that my words to you are among many that your family and friends would long to speak to you.

You don’t know me, Jordan. I mean, maybe you do now. But you didn’t before. But if I could visit with you for just a minute, if I could just sit down on a park bench somewhere and throw bread crumbs to the ducks with you, I would make sure you know how much your life counts. It wasn’t near long enough, but it changed my world completely. My family won’t live a day that you aren’t at the top of our list of blessings.

The days will go on for us down here. And, though the years may seem as days to you, they drag on for those of us who feel that painful separation from a child, or anyone that we loved desperately. But one day, maybe soon, the separation will end and we will live in that place with you. Until then, I will thank God for your life, and the decision of your parents to save Canon’s life. However many days I have left, they will be infinitely better because of you.

We love you Jordan,
Drew, Chandra, Canon, and Creed Perkins