It is baseball season and I want to scream. Scream because I don’t have red dirt to scrub out of the knees of Dalton’s baseball pants. Scream because I don’t have to search for his baseball cap 5 minutes before practice starts. Mostly I want to scream because spring is knocking at the door, the sun is shining, and instead of dropping Dalton off at Darren’s barn for practice, I have to drive to Elmwood Cemetery to visit him. His baseball bag, cleats, and ballcap still sit in my hallway undisturbed. Thick, red clay is clumped on the bottom of the cleats from their last day on the pitching mound. Dirt and dust covers the outside of the bag after its last appearance in the dugout. DD’s final bottle of water peeks out from a pocket on the side. Staring at it brings me a bizarre mixture of anguish and comfort.
The last couple of weeks haven’t been very kind to me. I have hit some awful lows. The devil has been there at every corner to remind me of my loss. He wants me to think about the upcoming baseball season that I won’t be watching, the 8th grade graduation ceremony I won’t be attending, or the summer family vacations I won’t be planning. I have to admit I have succumb to his deceit time after time. Pulling over in my car, I have screamed and cried because a song on the radio makes me think of him. I walk around the corner of an aisle in Wal-Mart, see a kid about his age with a similar build, and struggle to take a breath. I know that this affliction is the work of the devil, yet the human side of me cries out in pain.
Troy and I were coming back from a walk last Thursday night when the sadness struck me out of nowhere. It was pure heartache over the fact that I don’t ever get to watch Dalton play another game of baseball. I expressed the hurt, along with some pretty intense anger. Of all the people I would never have expected to say these words, Troy turned to me and said, “You DID get to watch him play. He was good. And you got to see him. We both did.” I stopped crying for a minute and thought about those words. What a gift I really had been given. I got to watch that boy play many years of baseball, from t-ball all the way to kid pitch. Some parents never get to do that. A parent of a severely handicap child will not watch their son pitch a no-hitter. Countless mothers and fathers of children who die in childbirth will never see their son hit a home run. Tormented couples who aren’t able to conceive will never watch their son make a diving catch at first base. I got to.
My friend Traci asks me everyday how I’m doing. Her son is on Dalton’s baseball team and was one of his best friends. She was also like a second mom to him. The fact that she checks on me every day means more than I can say. I know when I talk to her that she feels the pain I am in. Sometimes, just telling her how my day is going allows me to release the grief. I don’t want to burden people, which is why I often don’t bring up Dalton’s accident to people. On the other hand, I cherish any moment to talk about him when someone brings his name up to me. Telling stories about him… saying his name… brings me peace.
Every Mother’s Day weekend, DD’s baseball team (The Butler County Cubs) will host a tournament in his honor. It will be held this year on May 9-10 in El Dorado, KS. I plan on being there to cheer on his team. The spirit of my son will live on forever in many people’s lives. That band of teammates is one such group of special boys that will play in his memory always.
Dalton made a video a year ago right before we were to fly to Florida for spring break. In it, he talks about how he wants to be remembered if he died on the airplane. I posted the video on my facebook. Why do I think it’s significant? Because this was a faith-filled perspective of a 12 year old who shared his thoughts on what Heaven might be like. If you haven’t already, please take a look. When I watch it, I see a child who had a personal relationship with the Lord. He didn’t act afraid. If was as though he was reassuring us.
“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your strength, but with the tempation will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.” (1 Corinthians 10:13)
healingthroughloss 
my brother died over 40 years ago at 14. His friends still talk about him. Their children all know who Jim was and how important he was in their lives. dalto too will live on in his friends
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My heart goes out to you with every word you write in your posts. I do not even remember where I found you. It could have been Facebook through a friend and it was a story they shared. I don’t know…but I would like to see the video Dalton created before the trip to Florida.
I live in Leawood, KS (suburb of Kansas City), so I’m not that far away. I have two sons, so I can relate to the boy stories and the activities that keep, us as parents, very busy. I gently say I can relate, but I am not walking in your shoes. There’s a difference.
I wanted you to know I appreciate your openness with what you share. Last fall I lost ten friends in 10 weeks. I began to wonder why God had targeted me. Friends (or maybe not) were calling me the Black Widow. Of course, they were joking but I was starting to feel like I had a huge, dark cloud around my head. I had never experienced that many deaths in a period of time. When one would pass away, I would shortly find out about another. One was only 53 and he died on his birthday. Today, I see his wife because we have become exercise buddies. She and her husband were starting to get into a routine of working out, and when he passed away I joined the club so I could continue with the routine. She and I were friends before, but we have become better friends now. It is hard, and at time, we cry together including this past Sunday. We can’t make sense out of it. He died at a hospital and there’s no reason for what happened. We don’t know how he died and the autopsy is inconclusive.
I attended a funeral for another friend who lost their three year old daughter. It was a catholic funeral and the priest said something in his homily that really stuck with me. He specifically looked at the mother, and said something on the lines of (paraphrase)…we don’t understand why God has chosen to take your little girl, but I am certain you wouldn’t trade knowing Elise for the 3 years that you had her in your life than not knowing her at all. How true. I never thought of it that way before. To have a moment of time than not ever having the chance to hold them, raise them, hear them laugh…If God gave me a choice, I certain all parents would pick the amount of years versus not at all. With what I know of you through your writing, you would tell the Lord the same thing. You would take his 13 years.
I don’t know if this helps in your pain and it was certainly my intent, especially with the priest’s message he shared with Elise’s mom. I’ll keep you in prayer and for peace beyond all human understanding.
Donna Wilson Leawood, KS
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Beautifully written. You and your family are continually in my thoughts and prayers. Crey T mentions Dalton regularly – usually remembering something funny Dalton said or did.
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Jenny as I have told you before, you are an amazing woman to be able to talk about your son in such an open manner. I wish I was more like you in that respect, the words are there but they are not easily said. I know the loss and feelings that you have and just hope and pray that this day is just a little better than the day before was and tomorrow is just a little better than today.
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