I visited the grave of my grandson this morning. It’s the first time I have been there since the funeral. Over the years I have come to appreciate that people feel lots of different ways about gravesites. Some people never go to the final resting place of their loved ones and some go very regularly. It is an extremely personal thing. I fall somewhere in the middle of that very personal continuum.

     This morning I found my way to the cemetery because of a strange dream I had last night. The dream was crazy and I am not going to share it, but it centered around the notion that I haven’t reconciled his death. I don’t have closure. I believe getting closure on the death of a young person is harder to come by. I thought because we knew his life would be extremely short that would make it easier. It has in some ways. In other ways, it has just complicated the process.

     Throughout my life, I have observed medically complicated people being cared for by their loved ones. I always wondered what that relationship felt like. I had a second cousin with Muscular Dystrophy who was profoundly affected by the disorder. He was very intelligent and expressive. Throughout childhood, I observed his family love him and take care of all his needs. I always had a hard time understanding his way of communicating. His family, though, knew exactly what he was saying. He had a tribe of interpreters. They were Jimmy experts. It was beautiful to watch. During my time with Maddox, I was a Maddox expert. I can tell you that every ounce of the love I felt for Maddox was returned by him in very personal ways. He maintained relationships with all of the people who loved him. It was beautiful.

     Maddox spent a good bit of his life in the hospital. He was an extremely medically complicated little guy due to being born with a super-dee-dooper rare genetic disorder called Vici Syndrome. In spite of his inability to communicate normally, he absolutely connected with his loved ones.  During a hospital stay sometime around his first birthday, he and I had a conversation. There were many days during his life where it hurt to watch him struggle against his broken little body. That conversation happened on one of those days. He held my fingers and looked into my eyes and we “talked”.  I told him to go to Jesus the SECOND that it became too hard. I told him that we would all be okay. He told me that he would.

    Not long after that conversation, I had a dream. I dreamed I got to heaven at the end of life and Maddox came running to me. I know now that in that dream he was the age he was when he passed.  He was dressed in the most precious pair of navy overalls. He jumped into my arms and called me “Gammy”. He was whole, talking, running, and excited to see me.  That dream has been a lifeline of sorts for me. I know without a doubt that I will see him again. The first thought I had when I found out he passed was that now the dream can come true.

     If you interviewed everyone who had a relationship with Maddox and asked what stood out most about him, I think one of the top answers would be his strength. He couldn’t control his body or even lift his beautiful blonde head but that kid exuded strength. He was one tough cookie. I think we would have all been in for it had he been healthy. It makes me laugh out loud when I consider it.

     This morning I stood at his grave. There’s fresh dirt, dead flowers, and no headstone. It is all still new.