Originally Posted on | September 15, 2009 

“What am I going to do without my aircraft carrier?”

William asked me this question multiple times last Saturday, shortly after we watched his beloved aircraft carrier float down the street and into the storm drain on its way to Shoal Creek. Even though it could barely float anymore, William had played with that plastic five and dime toy for years in the bathtub, and my heart broke for him as I helplessly watched it disappear down the drain.

In answer to his question, I spoke to him of God’s comfort and provision for us. But also told that sometimes that we just lose things and don’t understand why, but even so we must know that God is good.

William’s question was hard to answer, but a good one for us. For I realized even as I was speaking to him that trying to understand what our family is going to do without John is a question we still struggle with as we come to the first anniversary of his birth–Sept. 16, 2009.

So much has happened since our last update as we seek to work through this question I am not sure where to begin. But we do want to let folks know that we have put together a web site, www.johnedwardpeacock.net. It will soon have all of the entries from our original CaringBridge site. Plus, we have just put together a slide show video helping us to commemorate our seven months with John on what would have been his first birthday. You can view it at the web site. While we are still greatly saddened by our loss of John, we are aware of many blessings that God bestowed upon us through John’s life and beyond. And feel called to share them in some form or fashion with others, so we will from time to time offer more for those who care to follow along.

There are so many pieces to trying to understand what we are supposed to do without John. Not only do we miss him, but we miss what we are supposed to be doing with him. An example of this was William’s first day in kindergarten. That day can be tough on any mom, but it was especially so on Kelly, because after dropping off William she came home to an empty house that wasn’t supposed to be empty. Our family is missing someone, and sometimes we just aren’t sure how things are supposed to happen without him.

We are also learning how to grieve. Individually, as a family, and with others who have suffered loss or who just want to comfort us in ours. It is a learning process. Kelly has led the way in building relationships with other mothers who have suffered similar losses. One of those relationships is with Nancy Guthrie. Nancy and her husband David lost two babies, Hope and Gabe, about ten years ago. She has gone on to author many books, including several on grief and loss. On Labor day weekend, the Guthries held their first retreat for couples who have lost children. Kelly and I flew to Nashville to take part with 11 other couples we had never met. But from the moment we arrived in the parking lot, we knew we were among friends. Here is what Kelly wrote about it:

“I learned to laugh again, really laugh, in the midst of people who have gone through great sorrow. I didn’t mean I had forgotten John, it just meant it was okay to laugh and cry in the same place, and that everyone understood. Bill and I were able to focus on one another and just spend time together eating and laughing and crying in a place set apart from the everyday cares around us. We haven’t been able to do that in nearly a year and it began a part of the healing process between us that we so desperately needed.”

We’ve also been meeting with other parents who have suffered loss at My Healing Place. There are also groups for spouses and children who have lost a loved one. We are glad to have it here in Austin.

William is working through all this. Kindergarten has brought new challenges as well. But William still talks a lot about John, which comforts Kelly and I greatly.

Today we’ll be visiting both Seton and Dell, where John—and the rest of us—spent the first 15 weeks of his life. And a few other things to help us remember our life with John and the goodness of God in giving us the little boy we never thought we’d have.

We included a hymn by Horatius Bonar in our Sept. 27, 2008 update. It seems appropriate to repeat here:

Thy way, not mine, O Lord,
However dark it be;
Lead me by Thine own hand,
Choose out the path for me.

Smooth let it be or rough,
It will be still the best;
Winding or straight, it leads
Right onward to Thy rest.

I dare not choose my lot;
I would not, if I might;
Choose Thou for me, my God,
So I shall walk aright.

Take Thou my cup, and it
With joy or sorrow fill,
As best to Thee may seem;
Choose Thou my good and ill.

Choose Thou for me my friends,
My sickness or my health;
Choose Thou my cares for me
My poverty or wealth.

The kingdom that I seek
Is Thine: so let the way
That leads to it be Thine,
Else I must surely stray.

Not mine, not mine the choice
In things or great or small;
Be Thou my Guide, my Strength
My Wisdom, and my All.

Thank you all for your many prayers and love over the last year.