Before I had kids, I thought I loved children. I suppose I did, to the best of my ability, but that love cannot begin to compare to what I feel now for children. All it took was giving birth to Meghann a quarter of a century ago to convince me that the love of a mother is perhaps the fiercest love on the planet.
In a parallel fashion, take away a woman’s child and you will see the most intense grief imaginable. My mother’s heart cannot comprehend what crushing pain would ensue at the permanent loss of a child here on Earth.
But tonight, I got a small taste of that pain through the death of a child I don’t even know.
Each day, I had been checking the Caden Beggan Facebook page for updates on a six-year-old boy in the United Kingdom who was battling a horrible disease. I found out about the child through Beth, a friend in Scotland whose aunt goes to my church here in the U.S. Each day, the boy’s dad would post “Caden is alive” as the opening message for the daily update on Caden’s condition. I was always overjoyed to see those three words of hope: CADEN IS ALIVE.
Tonight as I went to the Facebook page, the three words were missing. Instead, the dad’s daily post read:
Caden Riley Beggan
Born 29th September, 2006
Died 20th November, 2012
. . . in Mummy and Daddy’s arms.
Thank you for all your support.
Despite the blessed assurance in the last line, I gasped aloud and dissolved into tears. Looking at the innocent little face staring at me from the cover photo, I could not imagine what the parents must be feeling to know they would never again see that adorable little boy on this Earth.
Yes, the hope of Heaven brings great peace but does not displace the grief of missing someone you love while living out this mortal life.
I read that post nearly two hours ago, yet tears still stream down my face and occasional sobs rack my body. You see, I have an eight-year-old son–my baby boy Malachi–who is about the size of a six-year-old. He is a little boy with big brown eyes, a ready smile, a delightful heart and infinite love to give.
In fact, he sounds a lot like little Caden as his daddy described him on the FB page.
As I look at the pictures of Caden, many of them taken fairly recently, I note his strong little legs and arms, ready for play and action. Just two weeks after being diagnosed with meningococcal septicaemia on October 23, those legs and one hand were amputated in an attempt to save Caden’s life.
I see his alert eyes and smiling face–taking in the big, wide world around him. But after being found lying on the bathroom floor of his home that horrifying October morning, little Caden’s responsiveness was dimmed–the eyes closed more often than not, the smile erased by a destructive disease that ravaged his small body.
A nation went pink as Caden’s story swept the UK and indeed the world. Pink was the color the Beggans hoped to see as the blackened skin damaged by the meningococcal septicaemia was replaced by healthy, pink skin. A bus was painted pink for him. Followers of the FB page worldwide donned pink, painted their fingernails and toenails pink, drew pink pictures, sent pink flowers, did whatever they could to “think pink” with regard to well wishes for Caden’s skin to grow rosily pink once more.
But it was not to be, for whatever reason. Caden’s little body could no longer fight the nightmarish disease, so his little heart stopped beating as he slipped from the arms of his mummy and daddy into the arms of Jesus.
This little boy’s plight had captured the attention of his homeland and many people around the world. Close to 45,000 people were following his day-to-day battle via the FB page.
But around the globe, there are multitudes of other sick children suffering and dying at this very moment. They may not get the same media exposure, yet their plight is just as dire, their parents’ grief just as bitter. Please help me lift them all up in prayer on this cold November night.
In my own life, I watched my precious friend Heather give birth to a beautiful baby girl who passed away a couple of days later. I saw my cousin Rosanna deliver two babies who now rest in the arms of the Father. In my newspaper job, I interviewed the parents of a teenage girl who was killed in an automobile accident. The list goes on.
I cannot fathom what sorrow these parents have known. In all of these cases, the parents were Christians who believed in life after death and knew they would see their beloved children again one day.
My first marriage ended in divorce–a bitter regret for me despite my happy second marriage. Two of my children are grown and on their own. Although I see my three non-adult children pretty much daily, there are some nights when they stay with their dad. This night that Caden died is one of those nights.
As I called to say good night as I always do on the nights that they aren’t snuggled up here at home with me, I held it together pretty well as I talked with my older son Elijah. My little Abigail had already fallen asleep, so I knew I would have to wait until she jumped into my bed early in the morning to talk to her.
But when little Malachi’s voice came through the phone, my eyes welled up with tears once more. He told me to tell his stepdad Alan and our dog Rocky good night, then he exclaimed happily “Yay!” when I told him Alan would pick him up early in the morning to bring him back to me. As always, he let his stuffed doggie tell me good night. By the time he said, “I love you, Mommy,” my voice was trembling, and I quickly said, “I love you, buddy” and hung up the phone before dissolving once more into sobs.
I want nothing more right now than to hold him in my arms. Tomorrow does not seem soon enough.
We as parents have been given these precious, impressionable lives for whatever time God decides. They are ultimately not ours, but His; however, He has blessed us with them for a season–to nurture them, teach them, provide for them and most of all, LOVE them. What a privilege is this most wonderful state of parenthood!
And while you hold them close, remember to say a prayer for Caden’s mum and dad who are longing to feel the warmth of little Caden once more. Wrap the Beggan family in your arms, dear Lord, and comfort them with your love.
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning–that eternal morning where Caden is waiting with outstretched arms for his parents to join him when their race is run.
Yes, Caden is indeed alive forevermore. . .