Camp Magic

This past weekend we attended a camp hosted by Edmarc, the children's hospice group that walked with us through our days with Sully, called Camp Magic. Ella asked me why it was called Camp Magic. I didn't really have a good answer except that it gave us a time as a famiy to be together and honor and remember Sully(later I learned it stood for My Active Grieving Instills Courage). I think Ella had hoped more for flying ponies and fairy dust. Despite that disappointment, I do think she had a good time.


The weekend was full of activities. We spent part of our time making a quilt square to be a part of the annual camp magic quilt. Ella loved the paints and the freedom to create. We played games, swam and took walks. We roasted marshmallows around a camp fire and made smores. We talked with other families who were walking simmilar paths; Ella and Zane played with children who also had lost siblings. We participated in a memorial service where we each lit a candle in memory of Sully and set it afloat on the water.

I think I was most moved by one of our symbolic craft activites. Ella painted a pot that represented our family. Then, we went outside and broke the pot symbolizing how our family was broken by the tragedy of losing a child. Brad then worked on gluing it back together. Of course, pieces were missing just as we as a family are forever changed and will always be missing a piece of us. The thing that got to me
most was watching Brad try and glue the pot back together. After he had figured out where the main pieces went and put the glue on them, he had to just sit there and hold the pot together. He couldn't do anything else. If he took his hands off, it would fall apart. And that's when I realized that that is exactly where we are. These past months I have purposely steered myself away from activity and responsibility, and I see how wise that has been. I, we, need this time to just be still, to just hold our family together and let the glue dry. As I feel pressure to return to who I was before I know I can and must turn it away. I know I won't ever be who I was before, our family will never be what it was before. But maybe, when the glue dries, we can fill our pot with fresh soil and something beautiful will grow in it.