It is a little past midnight on September 16. I know that I will be thinking of Glennie constantly today. I keep thinking about how he would be 6 years old today. It is so easy to fall into the trap....the trap of "If only he were alive today...." Yet I know that he was never meant to live to be 6, or even 2. He was born to us on September 16, 2002, as he was supposed to be, as he was meant to be by God. As devastating as it was to watch him live with this disease, and in essence, watch him die, it was God's plan all along. I remember when Glennie was first diagnosed, I couldn't stop thinking about how he would look at a toy and never be able to reach out and play with it. I always wondered if he longed to reach out and grab it but couldn't, or if his limitations were normal to him and he believed the toy was just something to look at. That was one of those "if only's." "If only he were normal and we could watch him grow and develop and play like a normal baby." If only we could be able to watch him learn how to sit up, then stand, and later celebrate his first steps. If only Spinal Muscular Atrophy weren't going to rob our son of all these perfectly normal, exciting new moments in a child's life. If only he would get old enough for us to send him off to his first day of kidnergarten, or to play with friends and toys, or to grow up into a handsome man and get married and have a family of his own. I remember thinking of all these things when he was diagnosed.
Then I came to realize that none of this was ever meant to happen. Glennie was born with a special purpose all his own in a body that would fail him. In a body with muscles that would deteriorate and would leave him mostly unable to move and swallow and struggling to breathe. I have heard of people with sick children being angry with God, not being able to comprehend why their children are so sick and being taken away from them. I know we don't fully comprehend it either, and someday I hope that I am able to know all that was accomplished through Glennie's life. I already do know that he taught us tremendous things about love, faith, hope, patience, and strength. I know that good things were accomplished through Glennie, even though the story of his life was accompanied by so much despair and grief. I will always have faith in the good things that came out of Glennie's short, difficult life; those things that are known and those that are unknown. I will always have faith that he was created just as he was for very special reasons.
I remember the day that he died. I remember being in the waiting room at the Emergency Room with Keva, the social worker, waiting with me and praying with me while Glenn and his parents rushed to the hospital. I remember silently, privately, offering up a prayer to God that he wouldn't let Glennie be scared, and that he would take away Glennie's pain. I know Glennie isn't scared right now, and I know that he has not felt any pain since that day. I also know that we think about him every single day, and miss him more than words could ever express, every single day. And even though I know he was never meant to live past the age of 20 months, I always think about what he would be like if he were alive today, what he would look like. I guess it can't be helped.
All in all, this day isn't about Glennie's death, but about his birth, and about celebrating his life, even though he is not here with us. To my Glennie: Happy Birthday to my precious oldest boy, my warrior who amazed us every day you were with us, and still do every day. To my boy who always had a sparkle in his great big, bright, beautiful blue eyes, and now I know they have so much more to sparkle about.
Then I came to realize that none of this was ever meant to happen. Glennie was born with a special purpose all his own in a body that would fail him. In a body with muscles that would deteriorate and would leave him mostly unable to move and swallow and struggling to breathe. I have heard of people with sick children being angry with God, not being able to comprehend why their children are so sick and being taken away from them. I know we don't fully comprehend it either, and someday I hope that I am able to know all that was accomplished through Glennie's life. I already do know that he taught us tremendous things about love, faith, hope, patience, and strength. I know that good things were accomplished through Glennie, even though the story of his life was accompanied by so much despair and grief. I will always have faith in the good things that came out of Glennie's short, difficult life; those things that are known and those that are unknown. I will always have faith that he was created just as he was for very special reasons.
I remember the day that he died. I remember being in the waiting room at the Emergency Room with Keva, the social worker, waiting with me and praying with me while Glenn and his parents rushed to the hospital. I remember silently, privately, offering up a prayer to God that he wouldn't let Glennie be scared, and that he would take away Glennie's pain. I know Glennie isn't scared right now, and I know that he has not felt any pain since that day. I also know that we think about him every single day, and miss him more than words could ever express, every single day. And even though I know he was never meant to live past the age of 20 months, I always think about what he would be like if he were alive today, what he would look like. I guess it can't be helped.
All in all, this day isn't about Glennie's death, but about his birth, and about celebrating his life, even though he is not here with us. To my Glennie: Happy Birthday to my precious oldest boy, my warrior who amazed us every day you were with us, and still do every day. To my boy who always had a sparkle in his great big, bright, beautiful blue eyes, and now I know they have so much more to sparkle about.
