Weston in his chair having a meal.
Dryer Bottom
Here is our little dryer bottom, helping with the laundry. We miss him so much.
Why Comedy?
As some of you may or not know, I am a theatre director and educator by profession. I am currently directing a play ( a comedy), and last night was our final dress rehearsal. Before the show, we had a group of high school kids and adults that we invited to view the dress rehearsal and I conducted a question and answer time. One of the questions posed to me was….”why comedy?” My answer was simple: “it’s good medicine.” I think laughter is a healthy way to reduce stress, and in my case…grief. Weston was a laugher. He not only loved to laugh, but he loved to make people laugh. He was a comedian, one who understood proper comic timing, and how to “play” his audience.
Grief counselors will tell you to cry. They will also tell you to laugh. A healthy dose of both does a lot of good.
“A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones” – Proverbs 17:22
Thanks for support
Thank you to everyone who visited the blog yesterday. I had 1,048 hits yesterday on my blog. I am not sure where all of the resurgence of activity came from, but it means a lot that so many were remembering us and Weston yesterday while we grieved and celebrated Weston’s life.
We started our very rainy morning at the cemetery, where we met our pastor, his wife, my parents, Erin’s mom, and my brother Keith. We stood over Weston’s grave and offered up prayers for each other and the rest of our family. We then went and spent some time together sharing stories of Weston and looking at some photos. I went on to work for a while in the afternoon, then came home to visit with family again. Weston’s Uncle Matt flew in from California and surprised us. Weston loved him so much and it hit me hard that he was here – it made Weston’s absence very real. I am so glad that we got to spend the afternoon with Matt, and look forward to seeing him some more this weekend.
Erin and I attended a dress rehearsal later that night for the show I am currently directing. Then we came back to our quiet, empty house. The same home that just last year was the location of great tragedy. We miss our boy a lot. There is a lump in my throat, and a tear in my eye.
Our day was hard. We knew it would be, and we still have a lot to deal with as we work through this time in our lives.
We cannot begin to express our thanks for all who have and are praying for us.
A Legacy.
One year ago today, we lost the love of our lives, our sweet boy, Weston Luke Guiltner. We believe he is in heaven, and someday we hope to see him again.
You may, or may not believe in God or heaven. In many ways, it is a huge stretch of faith to believe in something so outrageous. I’m not sure what to tell you except that I choose to believe, and I cannot help but look at this past year’s journey and recognize that there was some force, some power that has sustained our lives. That must be God.
We are sad. We are often empty. Yet, somehow we have managed to walk through this inferno of grief and despair. We have managed to work, and accomplish big things. We have managed to communicate, encourage, and love others around us each day. We have managed to smile and laugh often. We have managed to get up in the morning and carry on in this life. It has been a struggle at times. It will continue to be a struggle at times. But my only explanation as to how we have made it through – is our faith in the God that gives and takes life. It is not by our own strength that we have survived this – for our strength is not enough to bear the loss of our Weston. And if you ever had the pleasure of meeting him, you know why.
Weston, who only lived for 21 months, leaves a rich legacy. As long as Erin and I draw breath, we will always keep his legacy alive – for he is a part of us.
Dear Weston:
We miss you so much. You were a burst of energy: a force of love and acceptance to everyone you ever met. Your energy, sense of humor, creativity, and charm were a gift from God. While you were here with us, you knew you were loved – we never let you doubt that, and we will always express our love for you – even in your absence.
Dear God:
Thank you for giving us Weston. Please continue to hide me away in the palm of your hand. . .
It’s ok to cry
I have found myself a little weepy these past several days. Generally, I am not a crier. But the emotions of losing Weston have been very much on the surface this week, and I have been brought to tears a lot. I have discovered that crying helps. The energy and chemicals that are released with tears somehow clean out some of the strong emotions and grief of loss.
Today feels like the day we lost Weston one year ago, though it is tomorrow that is the actual date. But it was a Tuesday, just like today. That was a horrible night for us, one that we cannot help but replay in our minds. Today, we are working to focus, not on that night, but on the love and joy that Weston brought into our lives. His life changed ours. His death changed us too. We miss him, but rejoice in the fact that he is in a better place than this old world.
Thank you for your prayers today and this week. We are also praying for many of you, that for those of you who are grieving – you will find strength and comfort. And for those of you who struggle with God, that you will find Him and trust in Him.
Onward!
