Last night we were honored to be on the street in front of Declan Carmical's home as hundreds of balloons were sent to heaven to celebrate the birthday of Declan and his twin brother, Cole. I haven't posted anything in Tatertown about this because I have been struggling with my own reaction to it.
Declan is a sweet little boy who passed away last week, before his first birthday. I won't go into the story here because I cannot nearly do it justice. His family, primarily his mom, has kept chronicle of their days since diagnosis and you can learn his story
here. I urge you to be strong and read it.
I don't know this family. The only things we have in common that I know of are that we live in the same neighborhood and we have children that we love. I learned of them several months ago from my friend Lee, who went to high school with Declan's mom. I can't say that I followed their blog day by day because I didn't. And that's because I'm a coward. But as things grew more and more grave and folks in the neighborhood were increasing their vocal and strong support for this family, I couldn't hide. I'm sure there were days that they wished they could ignore what was happening to them and they could not. I am ashamed of my cowardice.
Pretty much every day for the last few weeks, Lee and I have huddled in my office for some time and talked of Declan and his family. The people we work with watch us walk around with tears in our eyes.
On Sunday, Lee went to the visitation and brought me back Declan's prayer card. I carried it around all week and read it over and over again.
When I learned of the "Balloons To Heaven" tribute and birthday celebration I immediately thought that I wanted to participate. But still, I felt mildly uncomfortable and a bit like it was somehow wrong or inappropriate for me to so. Because, again, I don't know this family. Who am I to add my sadness to their burden by mulling aroud their court with tears streaming down my face? But I thought about it over and over and over and finally decided that I just had to do it. So, off I went to Party City (which seems ridiculous) and got my baby blue and gold balloons at lunchtime. I made my balloon tag with Declan's photo and enclosed his prayer card. And, luckily, I have a husband who, without asking, could tell that this was important to me and just helped me get the kids together and jump in the car last night and head to Withers Grove Court.
It was sweet and sad and inspiring to see all those ballons lift way to the sky. I still feel like I don't understand if it was appropriate for me to be there. But I hope it was. We met Declan's daddy, Stan, and it felt right for me, a stranger, to hug him and say how sorry I was for their loss. I don't think its much of an exaggeration to say that I met God's grace last night and it is embodied in that man. It was clear that no matter how I felt about my presence, he and his family took some small measure of strength and solace from all the people, strangers and known, whose lives have been touched by their little boy. Mine certainly has.
