What’s a Momma to do when she can’t get a response?  When she wants so desperately to make her child feel loved (an less afraid) and is desperate to connect on a deeper level.  What can a Momma do that’s deep, personal and intimate? Something that could never be forgotten?

Something more than talking to him, wiping his forehead and holding his hand and the many little things that show care.  Those things any nurse or professional can do.  In fact, anyone could carry out those things.

So from the very first day…I would lay my head on my son’s chest. Bury my face in it and smother it with kisses. Right in the area of his heart.

Every day I would greet him that way…every night I would say goodbye the same.  All throughout the day I would kiss him there…just so he would not forget.

I remember now that I used to do that when he would stand right in front of me.  While he wrapped his big arms around me for a bear hug, I was only a little more than chest high to him.  I always kissed his heart right through his chest then, too.

I guess I thought that my kisses had magical powers.

After so many days of him lying in a coma, I would encourage other family members to do the same.  I could see that so many loved him in so many different ways.  Love is such a complicated thing.  It shows up so uniquely and displays many different emotions.  I don’t believe any two people show love the exact same way.

But the thing about love is…the thing about real love…is that it’s a magnet. Real love doesn’t repel.  It Compels, and draws near.

My son laid there with lungs that were burnt beyond use and a brain that may not have been as alive as it should have been…but his heart was intact.  His emotions were still conscious. His heart was beating strong and steady and still filled with a lifetime of love.  I believe that it was swollen and bursting with it.

I know that love is what made him come back.   It was the impetus that called him back to life those two times he coded.  It was love that drew those who truly love him like a magnet.

During the last few days, tempers started to calm down.  I could see that any anger had subsided and the fear was giving way to acceptance.  I watched as so many things resolved.

I began encouraging those closest to him to kiss him.  Kiss his heart. I was not afraid to ask for it…I didn’t care if others might have felt awkward about it. I felt that in the doing this…the gesture of literally kissing his chest with his big, throbbing heart underneath…would bring some peace.

I am a lover of stationery.  (Yes, I digress…but there is a point here.  Hang on.) I love a hand written letter.  I love cards, a thank you note or even simply an “I’m thinking of you” written out long hand.

I love beautiful paper and a just right pen with just the right ink. I love the art of penmanship and the expression of sentiments. I love the taste of bitter(sweet) glue on my tongue as I lick the envelope to seal it.  I love addresses and stamps.  I love correspondence.

Many years ago, I purchased a wax seal kit.  I am enamored by the idea that wax was once used to seal letters…and those seals should only be broken by the recipient. It was one of the only ways to safeguard the contents and keep it personal.  Once especially used by royalty and nobility, each stamp was made specifically for the individual or family and was, most likely, engraved with the family crest or some unique insignia.

I love the smell of melting wax, and the act of dripping it onto a folded card or letter…and quickly, before the wax dries…press the stamp upon it and watch the image transform.

The stamp I bought years ago has the impression of an engraved heart.


I have to pause a minute here to take all of this in because I don’t feel this was some kind of coincidence. Long ago, when I purchased that wax and that sweet little seal…the future was already ordained.  Back then the intricacies of my life and the crossing of these paths were predestined…already thought out that I’d make this analogy and these dots would connect for me.

So in my mind as I watched those willing to kiss my son’s chest…lay their lips upon his heart (and some opted to simply kiss the hand on his chest…powerful just the same), I saw it as a royal seal…sealing in the contents of each unique relationship.

Locking in the memories, mending any brokenness…binding up forgiveness.

Sealing him with a kiss.

One thought on “SWAK

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s