Without a Word_ How a Boy's Unspoken Love Changed Everything - Jill Kelly [65]
While I was writing this chapter, my freckle-faced daughter Camryn insisted on interrupting me. The signs she made and posted on both doors of the office read: “Keep Out Of The Office While She Is Writing. Thanks, 6.” But even with the doors closed and my hands typing away on the keyboard, she couldn’t seem to stay away or follow her own instructions.
“Mommy, you have to come outside right now. There’s something really special I want you to see.”
“Camryn, I’m writing. What is it, honey? Can it wait until I’m done?” I responded with a big sigh as I turned and looked at her.
“I can’t tell you. It’s very special. Come on, Mom. Please come outside and I’ll show you.”
Reluctantly, I got up from my desk, slipped my sneakers on, and walked outside with Cam.
It was a gorgeous summer day. After I walked outside, I was thankful Camryn decided to interrupt me. I needed a break. Writing this memoir had been a heartrending journey, far more difficult than I would’ve ever imagined. On that day I had struggled more than usual. But the blessings of God continue to amaze and encourage me.
“Just follow me, Mommy.”
Camryn’s mouth and teeth were completely blue from eating a candy push pop, and a sparkly turquoise clip held her wavy brown hair away from her face. She was growing her bangs out that summer, so barrettes and fancy clips were a must. And even though it was three o’clock, Cam still had her pajamas on: an oversized, bright green t-shirt that says Life in huge letters on the front, and comfy blue fleece sweatpants. It was just one of those lazy days of summer.
As she led me over to where Hunter’s tree is planted, I couldn’t help but feel sad. A bundle of freshly picked flowers lay on the ground in front of the perfectly shaped pine. Not long after Hunter went to heaven we were given a pine tree to plant in his honor. When we moved, the tree went with us. It stands a good five feet tall right now and seems to be thriving despite its three transplants. At the base of the tree there’s a cement plaque that reads:
Your memory is our keepsake, with which we’ll never part.
God has you in His keeping. We have you in our hearts.
Friends of ours who lost their infant son, Liam, to Krabbe disease gave us the memorial plaque after Hunter died. Their way of saying, “We know how you feel.” Unfortunately, the plaque didn’t fare as well as the tree did when we moved. It’s now cracked down the middle, broken in two—like my heart.
“Look, Mommy, aren’t they beautiful? I picked them in our yard,” Camryn said with delight. Although she was ten years old, Cam still didn’t understand that the flowers in our backyard are not meant to be picked. But for her brother, she would’ve picked them all.
“They’re so pretty, Camryn. Thank you.” I hugged her and we walked back over to the house.
What Camryn and Erin remember about Hunter, and what he meant and continues to mean to them, is reflected in a letter each one wrote to their beloved brother. Camryn was nine and Erin was thirteen when they journaled their tributes. Camryn completed hers first, and here’s what she wrote:
My Brother Hunter
By: Camryn Kelly
I love letting balloons go up to heaven. My cousin Ben asked my mommy if balloons can really go up to Hunter. And she said, “If God wants our balloons to reach all the way up to heaven, they will. He can do whatever He wants to.”
Before I let a balloon go, I put lipstick on and kiss it. Then I get a marker and write something special to Hunter on it. Usually I write, “I love you Hunter. I can’t wait to see you. We miss you. Love Camryn.” And then I let it go up, up, up, high in the sky. Sometimes I watch the balloon until it’s only a little speck. I hope God brings our balloons to heaven. Maybe when we get to heaven we’ll see all the balloons we sent to Hunter.
I miss him so much. I used to cuddle with Hunter