Balloons and Paper Planes

 

How much can happen in a week – a mere 7 days.    A week ago things were normal. 

A grandson was born.   Something went wrong.   The placenta detached.   No blood.   No oxygen.   Organ damage.   Brain damage.

Zachary Samuel Young lived 11 hours.   He was loved, he was celebrated, he was admired.   A group of friends bore testimony to his existence.   We were not there.   We are on the other side of the world.

We will never see our grandson, never hold him.   We have photos, we even have videos.   Technology is amazing, but it can never replace reality.

We weren’t at the funeral.   It sounds awesome.   Paper planes with messages were thrown onto the coffin instead of rose petals.   So much more suitable for a boy.   Zachary would have loved it.   Then just before sunset balloons were released into the sky over Napier as our grandson was buried. 

“Zachary, I’ll look out for you when I get to heaven.   You’ll be the boy in the All Blacks T shirt.   Meanwhile I love you very much and miss you.   from Granny ”   That  is what I would have written on my paper plane.

Now we have a new normal.   I have a new photo on my dressing table.   I carry a box of tissues wherever I go.   I am functioning and most of the time I seem fine.   It’s just when I pass a rack of baby boy clothes, or meet up with a friend or get a phone call that I fall to pieces and can’t stop crying.   It’s not even a good idea to stop for a while and just think.   Much better to keep doing things.

I know things will get better in time but I am forever marked by Zachary’s birth and untimely death.   I know that God works all things together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purposes and I trust Him to keep His promises.   However, for the rest of my life I might shed a tear when anybody asks me how many grandchildren I have and I might never look at paper planes in the same way again.