I looked at my foot closely as I continued to rub coconut oil onto it in hopes of softening the skin surrounding the scar. That scar is now twenty-four years old and it still looks like it became a part of me yesterday. Normally, scar tissue isn’t something that I would look at, but this scar is different. This scar was given to me by my son Mike who died on May 22, 2015.
I never, ever want this scar to go away because locked up in that puffy mess is a well-spring of memories that make my heart smile!
When each of my children were born I studied them for a long, long time. I ran my fingers across the tip of their noses. I grasped their tiny hands into mine and looked in awe. I slid my fingers ever so gently across their heads leaning down and smelling that newborn baby smell. I loved how each of their tiny feet fit into the palm of my hand. These are just some of the things I’ll never forget. A love as deep as a parent’s love wants to soak up everything about our child. We even study the pores of our child’s skin!
As our children grow older, we continue to love them with this same intensity — maybe even more if that’s possible. We know the way their lips curve into a smile. We know the look that comes right before the tears. We know the sound of their feet skipping across the floor.
As parents we never forget the smallest of details that make our child uniquely ours.