The permanent marker arrived. I can't help but feel that this is what we got our son, Andrew, for Christmas this year. I do not want to feel this way. Andrew is our youngest child and we miss not being able to Christmas shop for him.
I chose a tag from our Angel Tree at church. I picked the gift request of a 12 year old boy. He wants roller blades. He needs a men's size 10. This has proved difficult to find in the local stores so we will search online today so we can fulfill another young boy's Christmas wish.
One day in January I was home alone and I went in my boys' bedroom - the one Avery and Andrew shared. I looked through Andrew's side of the closet and saw his Nike shoes. I sat on the edge of the bed and I put them on. They were too big. At the age of 12, his feet had outgrown mine. But I slipped my feet into my boy's shoes and I tied them. Then I walked around the house in them. I thought to myself, "Why couldn't I have taken his pain to wear like I am wearing these shoes?"
I would have walked that road for him, had I been given the choice.
Yesterday marked a year to the day as the last day the five of us sat in church together. As the choir ministered in presenting a Christmas program, I held Andrew's Bible close to me, wrapping my arms around it as though it were him.
And I remembered that last year while the Christmas choir sang, Andrew leaned into me and whispered in my ear, "It's just not the same without you up there, Mom."
I wrote this poem and posted it in February. We had to box up the medical supplies and wheelchair for return. It was such a hard and heartrending task. I had also gone through some of Andrew's clothing and things. Some I boxed and some I placed in my cedar chest in my bedroom. I left a few of his clothes hanging in the closet. And the shoes I walked around in are there, too.
by Melanie Dorsey
by Melanie Dorsey
A box cannot contain my love for you, nor who you are.
Not any kind of box.
Not the ones that will store clothes and toys and boy stuff.
Not the one that holds a jar of clay in a place it hurts to see Your name.
Andrew Christopher Dorsey.
It seems so wrong.
It hurts so much.
Listen to my heart.
The place where names are eternal,
That is where your name belongs and IS.
In a book; not on a box .
In a book; not on a name plate under the red flowers.
In a book; the Lamb’s Book,
Where Eternal Life has signed your name.
Andrew Christopher Dorsey
I started a new writing project today inspired by Andrew. It's entitled "Signed, Sealed and Delivered". I hope to share it here soon.
'Still looking but thinking of writing my own.
*Can you see the skateboard on the marker?
The pine boughs at the bottom corners we chose because we have FIVE pine trees in our front yard.