Tributes

I'm still having trouble finding my words... I don't know that I have anything left in me to say at this point. My cousin (and Holden's godmother), Jennifer, wrote a beautiful letter about our little man. She gave me permission to share it with all of you here.

Ren Morrison, our sweet-hearted and generous friend who did Holden's one-year pictures and all of the pictures for his service, has also written a very touching blog. She has an exceptionally giving spirit, and she has been such a blessing to us. She included pictures of the service along with her sweet words, and you can find it all here.

We have been humbled and honored by the prayers and support from so many of you. We are so thankful. And until I find my own words, I am also thankful for our loved ones who are there to hold us up. We love you.

From Jennifer:

I'm stunned that it's been a week. It feels like 10 seconds and 10 years all at once. In some ways, it took Holden a long time to go home. In others, especially for those of us who have been with him so constantly during his 17 months among us, it seemed to happen so devastatingly fast. I'm afraid we'll be reeling for some time.

Everyone who will read this has experienced loss. Ours is no more severe or immediate than the pain of those who endure other hardships - parents gone too soon, sons or daughters deployed overseas, children who might have been. From experience, you know something of what we're going through. Jack and I had been so focused on the immediate moment, on fighting day to day, on supporting Lindsey and Trent whenever, however, and wherever they needed it, that we didn't get around to grieving for ourselves until Tuesday evening. It was then - and will be for a long while - that we grieve for the future Holden, for the child we would've helped guide through life, celebrated through birthdays and milestones and victories. The child who would say our names, spend sleepovers with us, know that his Uncle Jack was a total pushover, and his Aunt Jen would always be ready with a hug, a giggle and a snack. When we agreed to be Holden's godparents, we signed on to be constant, consistent presences in his life. And now we've signed on to honor his legacy.

One of the things that gets lost in Holden's struggles is the potential he always had for a future. Though his challenges seemed insurmountable, Holden so consistently defied medical prognosis and convention that we'd already started looking forward to his first day of school, his first caught fish. Holden knew pain that few of us will ever endure, but he also knew joy. He was a great source of joy. He loved being outside and riding on the tractor with his daddy. He loved his stuffed elephant (which was bigger than he was!), and snuggled with his soft little stuffed dog (only when he didn't think anyone was looking). He smiled with his eyes before his mouth. He was precocious, and loved teasing people with his "bull face": scrunched up nose, pursed lips, a cross between a laugh and a raspberry. He was an observer, and an excellent judge of people. And he was a charmer who hooked you almost immediately with those deep, soulful eyes. He loved things that made noise. To be read to. Music. He loved chasing bugs. He adored his sisters, and they always made their bubba smile. He put a lot of miles on his stroller, just being a boy outside in the dirt - as it should be.

We absolutely take comfort that Holden is now pain-free, that he's struggle-free. But his pain and his struggle didn't define his life. They weren't the sum total of it. When Holden's story is told, we pray that it is not a story of what Holden didn't have or of the opportunities he missed. We pray that it's the story of what he DID have, of the amazing gifts that God gave this sweet boy. Holden was born not with just a broken heart, but with a very special heart. He brought out the very best in those around him. He gave us strength, pushed us to do better and be more. He touched more lives in 17 months than many of us will touch in a lifetime. And he will continue to urge us to do more, to be better, to make a difference - so that we may live up to his legacy.

So thank you for being there for us, for sharing in this with us. Thank you for continuing to tell Holden's story. Thank you for continuing to lift up his hero parents, Lindsey and Trent, in prayer. They've never needed support quite as they do right now. Jack and I will always be Holden's godparents, and we will always stand with Lindsey and Trent. Thank you for supporting us as we support them. We couldn't do it without you.