Surely, we all agree, that this is true in our own lives; the allotted 24 hours a day keep ticking by no matter our circumstances . . . "life goes on."
However, to my dismay following the loss of our son, Kevin, in 2002, it was a heart-wrenching reality to accept that life would go on without him and there were many times that I just wanted the world to STOP!
In the first few years of my grieving, I found it extremeley difficult to wrap my heart and my head around the fact that life had to go on and one of my greatest concerns about "going on" was that as time passed, I was afraid that I would somehow forget the essence and details of my son, and that the special memories of him, of us as a family with him as a part of us, would fade. Though, for awhile my memory was affected, as I began to heal, memories started returning to me, and for that I am ever grateful. One very special memory of our Kevin is the memory of how he earned his nickname, "Superman!"
When Kevin was 8 years old, he was having trouble staying seated in his 3rd grade classroom. When Bob and I asked him what was the trouble, he said "my eyes hurt." We made an appointment with an Opthomologist and we were thankful that the test results revealed that there was nothing wrong with his eyes - he had perfect eyesight. What he did suffer from, however, was what the Opthomologist called "classroom-itis."
The wise and creative Optomologist told Kevin that what he needed was a pair of "special glasses" that would give him "special powers," but only while he was sitting in his chair in the classroom at school. The prescribed glasses would have clear glass, but Kevin didn't know that and to him they were "special glasses with special powers."
When Kevin first put on the glasses he had picked out for himself - he looked like Clark Kent, and his dad said, "Kevin, you look just like Superman!" Kevin stood up as straight and as tall as he could, put his hands on his hips and assumed the Superman stance, and to Bob's and my delight, he wore the glasses in the classroom everyday for the next six months and he stayed in his seat.
From the first day he put on the glasses, he was our very own Superman - a nickname that stuck with him throughout his lifetime, and we still have his special glasses, a sacred keepsake now.
One morning a few weeks ago, while we were spending time with our toddler grandson, Kevin (named after his Uncle Kevin) he picked up his high-chair tray in preparation for eating a snack, and he said, "I'm strong. I'm Superman!" Bob and I immediately looked at each other, and for a few seconds we just stood there with tears in our eyes and smiles on both of our faces, as I said "That's right, Kevin. You are our SUPERMAN! . . . and so, "life goes on" and we are grateful for the Superman legacy of our son, Kevin, that goes on in our grandson, Kevin, too! "Thank You, LORD!"
With the Super-Power of Love in Christ,
Angie "a mom like you"