There he was, our little seven year old boy, lying on a bed, Amanda and myself by his side. He seemed so peaceful. He was dying. He opened his eyes slightly and looked at us both; a subtle cozy smile graced his little face and then he closed his eyes again and simply slipped away. 

Then I woke up. 

Three something AM on the clock. Our little boy slept in our bed with us last night and there he was next to me peacefully sleeping. Never so beautiful was the sight of his rib cage rising and falling with glorious breath. I told myself everything was ok, it was a dream, but the sensations, emotions and images were still so strong in my body and mind. “Here it comes,” I thought. I cried, hard, for at least 30 minutes. My breathing was agitated, deep pain in my chest and stomach, and intermittent numbing and tingling throughout my body. Amanda awoke and held me as only she can. In waves of grief, I had this feeling that everything else would be rendered meaningless, if we lost our boy. What would I do? How would I keep going? Could I keep going? I tried to stop it but the image of his effortless smile right before he left this world kept playing in my mind over and over again. The smile was as if to say, “Everything is okay, donʻt worry about me. Iʻm going home now.” 

I thought about how if he were truly suddenly gone, any little thing that heʻs done in the past that annoyed me, or stressed me out, or made me angry, would be a thing I would give ANYTHING to be able to see him do just one more time. I donʻt want to take any moment with our little boy for granted. Nothing is guaranteed. He could be gone tomorrow. I could be gone tomorrow. 

I think about all the parents that have lost their children. I try to imagine to the degree that I can but I know that I cannot. I am so sorry. 

I am infinitely grateful for our boyʻs health, for my health, for Amandaʻs health. So many people do not currently have that experience. My heart and spirit is with you. Maybe something small that I can do to honor your pain and struggle is to never take my and my families health for granted. 

I donʻt want to take anyone for granted. I donʻt want to take anything for granted. Every person and experience is a gift of infinite possibility for growth, understanding, and healing. Guidance from the Universe is infinite and constant. Let our eyes, ears, hearts, and minds remain forever open. 

Thank you Universe for this dream, this experience, and this guidance. Message received. 

I wish you all health, love, gratitude, and the revelation of your fulfillment. 

Love, Wade. 


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