Letters to Heaven: Patrick Michael Schaefer

"There is no foot too small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world."--Anonymous

My son,

I came across a poem today that I I wrote in June of 1990, and as I read it, I was struck by how little meaning time has in the Universe. I say that because even though at that time in my life I had absolutely no idea you existed, it is clear that it's written for you. Perhaps it is possible some mothers always know on some level the presence of their children, even in their absence. I know that before your sisters were born, before I saw you growing inside of me on the sonogram photos, I used to talk to you in my prayers. Maybe my soul got to spend time with you and your sisters long before our Earthly adventures began. Know this, little one, you are alive in my thoughts every single day--since the first moment I knew you were coming and every moment after you didn't. My twenty-one year old self wrote of you, was waiting for you, and this is what she had to say:

He closed his eyes only for a second, not wanting to fall asleep and miss a moment of anything, everything life had to offer him, but sleep took him anyway. As his lashes fluttered for the final time, the sandman came to take him off to a world of dreams, where trees are lollipops and waterfalls spill over with chocolate splashes--a world where all of his wishes on stars come true. As the world looks down upon the face of this sleeping child, the angels smile. His tiny life is secure and trusting of those charged with his care. His arms know the warmth of endless hugs and his days are filled with laughter. His heart knows only love and hope. I reach over and lightly brush away an unruly strand of blonde hair from his peaceful, sleeping face. At that moment, I know that I have touched innocence in its purest form, and somehow I am filled with the warmth of God's blessed children.

While that moment with you never came to fruition in this world, someday when I join you it will. Wait for me and know that you are loved by many, but none more than your mother.

                                                                                Always,
                                                                                Mama

*Image from beliefnet.com.

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