Wesson, Kristi & Logan Littau Blog
Logan and I have both been doing a lot of thinking about Wesson. Not just lately, I guess. Pretty much always.
The old saying “time heals everything” has proven unsuccessful thus far.
We have found other ways of healing.
Trying to fight back.
Grieving the loss of a child is like that nightmare we have all had where you are running away from something horrific but going absolutely nowhere. You just keep moving your legs, trying to get further toward your destination but you are just running in place.
It’s not even just the pain of losing my son. It’s what we had to experience in the process, or more importantly what HE had to experience in the process, the journey. The battle of the beast.
There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t lay my head down at night and run the whole thing through my head before I pass out to sleep. The treatment, the suffering, the emotions, the fear.
Decisions that no parents should have to make. Ever. There were so many life altering decisions that we made on Wesson’s behalf that I can’t help but wonder “what if” we had done something differently.
“What if” (for example) we had actually taken a physician up on the free ride back home for hospice.
Would we feel better right now?
Would we be happier as parents who got to hold their child as he took his last breath knowing that he was comfortable, peaceful and in the arms of the ones that loved him the most.
Or would we then always wonder if he could have been cured? Was it the best choice to push him to the limit, finally cure him of his cancer even though his body suffered the harshness of the treatment and not have our arms wrapped around him as he took his last breath?
These kind of mind games will make a person go crazy, but that is what you are left with as a parent of a child who has lost their battle to cancer or the side effects of it.
What I do know is that I can have the confidence that God is holding him with his soft loving embrace and giving him the love and care that we were unable to the last six weeks of his life.
This always makes it better.
These are just a few of the reasons why we have chosen to fight.
To raise — awareness and funds.
Somedays I think honestly I would rather lay down and surrender to the harshness of the reality that our son is gone, give in to the pain and forget about the fight.
But then I see his picture, watch a video, hear his song or get a little nudge from the good man up above and I realize that this was Wesson’s plan, his goal, his reason.
To make a change.
Amazing what such a small child, a short life, and a valiant story can do for the world.
Those beautiful blue eyes, that smart look — sometimes I watch his videos and I’m like “You knew didn’t you?” I didn’t know it Wesson — that you weren’t going to live past thirteen months.
I can’t believe now that I didn’t know it.
But I’ll be darned you knew it.
Smart little angel baby — who shows up in places you know I’ll be looking for you. Who makes my bad days a whole lot better, and even when your not here in body…
I can always feel you in spirit.
I love that.
So this will be it. A new goal in life, a new mission and a new dream.
For Wesson. For my friend’s children who have too lost their battles. For the parents, researchers, physicians, and families who haven’t slept.
And for the children at every pediatric hospital that deserves a chance at life. Life outside hospital walls and free from tubes, infections, nurses and lab results.
It has to get better.
Please help us make it better.
Logan and I will be heading up to Sioux Falls April 4th and 5th for the 6th Cure Kids Cancer Radiothon that will broadcast live from the Sanford Children’s Caste of Care.
We hope you can all tune in and donate if you can toward such a wonderful cause.