I chose the name Elijah for my son because it conjured images of strength and resilience. I envisioned him as a figure who could weather storms and emerge with wisdom, just like the biblical prophet. The idea of a new beginning resonated deeply with me, particularly as I have always found comfort in the soothing embrace of nature. Elijah, the name itself, felt like a promise of hope, an invitation to embrace life with open arms and a courageous heart.
The Day Elijah Was Born
On the day Elijah was born, the clouds parted after a long stretch of rain. His birthplace was Oregon, and he arrived with soft, golden curls and a serene expression. Elijah was the first of my children to meet my gaze with an inquisitive sparkle in his eyes, a reflection of the world as I see it—vibrant and full of possibilities. His arrival was greeted with joy by his sister, Grace, who was seven, and his little brother, Samuel, who was just four. His younger brother, Jacob, at three, was utterly captivated by him, eagerly observing every sound and movement Elijah made. We named him Elijah James, honoring his father’s middle name, and added my maiden name, Elijah James Thompson, to complete the lineage.
“Elijah Thompson,” some would jokingly say, yet the humor would soon fade in the face of reality.
Tragedy and Reflection
Tragedy cast a shadow over our brief happiness, and Elijah was not destined to stay with us long. At his funeral, just 15 months later, I reflected on our time together. “Elijah. He was ours for one beautiful weekend. He made his entrance into the world on a Friday night, a response to the prayers we had whispered in the dark. We felt the magic of his existence before dawn while others only dreamed. As Saturday unfolded, we marveled at his every need; we watched him sleep peacefully, laughed together, fed him his first tastes of food, and cheered as he took his first steps. By Saturday evening, he had woven himself into the fabric of our lives. He had a radiant smile and a mischievous laugh that filled our home with joy.
As dawn approached on Sunday, we envisioned our family complete. Elijah was as integral to our lives as the air we breathed. We played, created memories that felt eternal, and cherished the simple moments. Sunday afternoon was a stark contrast; he had departed, leaving us with a sense of loss that words could not capture. Though he was the last to join us, he was the first to leave, and we will forever be guided by the lessons he imparted. He gifted us invaluable wisdom and joy, the kind that can’t be quantified. We are eternally grateful, yearning for the simplicity of that Sunday morning once more.”
A Growing Family
Fast forward twelve years, and our family had grown to include two more children, living in Costa Rica, with Grace attending college. Leaving her behind was bittersweet; the ache was real, yet I found solace knowing that the heartache of loss had shaped our perspective on farewells. Having previously said goodbye to my son at a funeral home, any parting felt less daunting. My journey of processing loss extended to my son, Jonah, whose name means “Elijah’s dove.” He too departed far too soon, yet his spirit remains in our hearts. For three years, I endeavored to document the stories of my boys, whose time with us, though short, was profoundly impactful. Many days, I would catch myself glancing up, expecting to see them running toward me, their laughter echoing in my mind.
Memories and Connections
One spring, friends visited with their three sons, including the eldest, Alex, who has autism. Alex’s parents are Elijah’s Godparents, and although he hadn’t seen Elijah in years, he spent the week calling my sons by Elijah’s name. Hearing the name was like music to my ears, and my boys embraced being called Elijah. As a lover of words, naming my children was a joyful part of pregnancy; however, the absence of their names in daily life is a profound reminder of their absence. At the end of the week, I expressed to Elijah’s Godfather how comforting it was to hear his name spoken again, and he sighed in relief, admitting he had worried it might upset me. This interaction underscored how often our grief is misunderstood.
A few days later, I received a digital story from a relative titled “The Things That Matter.” In her brief narrative, she shared how Elijah had taught her daughter to climb stairs before he left—a beautiful reminder of his impact on those around him.
Carrying Their Names
Even now, years after their passing, I carry Elijah and Jonah’s names in my heart. I want to shout their names into the universe every morning: “Elijah!” “Jonah!” For parents like us, it’s essential that our children’s names live on, and our stories are shared.
Conclusion
In summary, the journey of naming and remembering our children holds profound significance. It’s about celebrating their existence, cherishing the memories we hold dear, and ensuring their legacies continue to resonate in our lives and the lives of others.
Keyphrase: Elijah and Jonah’s legacy
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