Nineteen years ago today, Carol and I were blessed with the
birth of our firstborn, Daniel Hobson.
It was, and remains, one of at least three miracles that I have
witnessed in my lifetime – the birth of each of our three children. Daniel was beautiful from the beginning, with
a full head of hair and an endearing personality.
Fourteen weeks ago today, Daniel began the process of dying. We sat helplessly by his bedside as doctors tried to explain the unexplainable, a brain injury so severe there was no medical intervention to stop its rapid course that led to Daniel’s death the following day. We struggled then, and we continue to struggle to understand and accept what our son’s death means.
Loss is harsh; our sorrow is overwhelming, and our grief is
likely to be with us for as long as we remain on earth without this son.
Yet today we are surrounded by Daniel’s two dear Whitworth friends, Ben and Justin, two of the boys who were with Daniel in the accident and who had the last conversations with our son. They too each struggle to understand their emotions and to comprehend their loss. Likewise, the Fab guys and girls and other friends and family are surrounding us this weekend, remembering the one who is missing and fondly celebrating with us the love they shared for him.
Grace is a complicated concept, yet, we feel grace in the embrace and love of all these friends and family. We all mourn the loss of Daniel and yet we all are grateful for the life he lived and the love he shared with us and with so many.
I will never understand whether there is a reason my son died so soon, or whether he simply was a victim of a random accident. I do not pretend to have a clue as to how this universe is ordered, and even if I understood, I still don’t like this outcome. Yet, somehow, I am enormously grateful for the gift of my son, for his life, for his enduring witness to the resurrection of Christ, and for the hope I have that I will see him again someday.
This is the mystery and tension I live in as we celebrate
the birth and life of this beloved son, while trying to comprehend the reality
of his untimely death.
August 4, 2008
What a
celebration!
About 60 people gathered in our backyard last night to be
with us on Daniel’s birthday. A bagpiper
came and we cooked burgers, brats, and hotdogs.
It was an amazing evening to mingle with about 30 college and high
school kids and about the same number of Young Life leaders, parents, and
family friends, watching and listening to people loving each other and remembering
our son so fondly.
Daniel was very blessed to have this community of kids and
adults who loved him so much. I
commented to several people that it was so amazing to see so much love and
nurturance flowing so freely from so many people. Seeing Daniel’s high school friends and
Whitworth buddies connect was especially touching; they compared stories,
shared laughter and probably some tears, and recognized the same wonderful
friend they had experienced in their different locations.
A couple of Daniel’s high school/now college-age buddies brought helium balloons and invited friends to write a message to Dan, prior to releasing the balloons into the sky right after the sun went down. I actually wanted to read all the messages before they floated up, but I felt like people did not need me invading their personal space that much. I did clearly sense the power of the emotions and spiritual connections that were represented in those words.
Among the adults, we shared how amazing it was to witness the
presence and power of God in so many kids and in so many visible ways.
As a parent of this kid, I still feel deep, deep sorrow,
though it is somehow accompanied by a palpable sense of wonder and gratitude
for the amazing grace that helped form Daniel and that continues to enfold our
family and all of his friends.
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