As some of you may recall, a young couple in my parish brought into this world a beautiful boy in November 2004. This was their first child and we were all so excited watching 'mom' blossom during pregnancy. The baby was born with birth defects and rushed into surgery. Doctors did not expect him to live more than 24 hours. Our pastor rushed to the hospital and Michael was baptised and chrismated into the family of God.
Michael defied the doctors! After several weeks, he was released from the hospital and the parents brought him to church where we all oohed and aahed over this precious little child. Just when one condition had stabilized, however, another problem sent him back to the hospital.
Over the next 9 months, the parents took turns at his bedside. Each time he rebounded, hope would spring up but this would be followed by another setback and our prayers rose heavenward. It was like riding a rollercoaster. One wisened old parishioner verbalized what we all felt in our hearts: "God's will be done".
In July 2005, Michael was airlifted to Boston Children's Hospital where he underwent 13 hours of open heart surgery. Afterwards, the medical team that had cared for him, sat the parents down. They explained that every medical procedure known to man had been performed on their precious child and there was nothing more any professional could do.
On July 22, 2005, exactly 9 months to the day following his birth, Michael was placed in the arms of his mother. Our pastor drove 3 1/2 hours to Boston Children's Hospital to administer Last Rites and provide solace to the family. Then a nurse removed the tubes that provided life support and Michael died peacefully, cradled in the loving embrace of his mother and father.
The funeral is one I will never forget. Due to the large turnout of family, friends and others who shared in the joy and pain of this young couple, it was held in a larger church. 3 Maronite priests and 1 Deacon officiated. A young woman dressed in a simple black outfit, led the procession into the church, carrying a large photograph of Michael. She was followed by his tiny white coffin with a beautiful heart shaped arrangement of red roses on its lid. The young parents followed behind, the father holding his beautiful wife and mother of his child, in a strong and steady grasp. ALL of the medical teams that had assisted Michael in life, were there to lend their support and prayers in death. Following the liturgy, a family member stepped up to the lectern to read a poem written to Michael by his parents. In it, they promised Michael that he would always be remembered, especially to their future children. Even the most stalwart, choked back the tears. Following the reading of the poem, the organist played Johannes Brahms' Cradle Song. It was one of the most beautiful and moving tributes of love for the courageous battle Michael fought and the love that surrounded him each and every day of his short life.
On July 7, 2006, Michael's brother Daniel was born. Last Sunday, the young couple brought this new son to church and we all oohed and aahed over him. They beamed with joy and happiness as they posed in front of the altar, Daniel snuggled safely in the loving embrace of his father. True to their word, this coming Sunday, mom, dad and Daniel will return to church to celebrate the 1st anniversary of Michael's death. Just prior to the conclusion of the divine liturgy, Father and the wisened old parishioner will begin to chant the prayers for the dead, in Arabic. Michael's short life will once again be celebrated by the same congregation that prayed for him and his family, in life and in death. He holds a very special and cherished place in all our hearts.
Life is precious ... be it for an hour or one hundred years. Albeit short, Michael taught our parish about the beauty of each breath in life and the final breath that takes us to eternal life ann the Kingdom of God.
Daniel has a "big brother in Heaven." How wonderful to think of his big brother watching over him, interceding for him.
A family I grew up with lost a son at birth. The younger kids thought of him as their "angel brother," and they often included him in their games, just as though he were there.
Inspirational story - truly touching. Where are my Kleenex?
Good grief. I lasted through all the stories before this one, but this one had me in tears. Thanks for posting.