1 year

Hi Baby Boy, I love you. The longest year of our lives has gone by and we still miss you fiercely! How could we not? Do you even realize what a spectacular little boy you were and will always be? The Caleb Effect is spreading and you are teaching people all over the world how to love a little deeper, cherish every minute with the ones they love and “be nice,” even when people don’t deserve it. I don’t know how we ever got so lucky to be your parents here on Earth, but Daddy and I will forever be grateful.

Every day is still a struggle, but today brings up memories that are usually immediately ushered to the back of our brains. A year ago, Daddy and I woke up in our room, and you opened your joyful blue eyes for the first time in heaven. It was the absolute worst day of our lives, but for you, there’s not a day (or most likely night) that compares. I guess Mommy is more like the Doubting Thomas because I still wish I could have that Polaroid of you in heaven. I want to see with my own eyes that you are okay.

I still don’t want this to be real. Every time I think this can’t really be our reality, I look down at the angel wings on my necklace and the enlarged pictures from your memorial service, and know this painful fact really is true. A whole year has passed, and you still aren’t here, but my heart and my head still can’t comprehend this.

Some people accused us of being “helicopter parents,” and “Purple Glitter Headband Nurse” even all but rolled her eyes at us when your pediatrician sent us to Children’s ER when you were five months old, because we couldn’t get your fever down for days. It was obvious she didn’t have any children or empathy that would be useful in her profession, and it was later discovered that you actually had “Hand Foot and Mouth,” one of the many contagious childhood gifts you collected from your friends (The one downside from you being such a social little boy who loved to give “fives” and “knuckles.”). It also turns out that you were in the 2-4% of kids who didn’t tolerate a fever very well, so our instincts were right in being cautious. They could have called us any name they wanted and it wouldn’t have mattered to us. We just wanted to take care of you and make you feel better (and ease our anxiety when you were too little to let us know what was wrong). All we ever wanted was to love and protect you, Baby Boy.

Obviously, our hovering wasn’t close enough. The second we discovered no matter how much Mommy, Daddy or the paramedics wished we could’ve saved you, we couldn’t bring you back. I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you. We will always wonder what it was that we should have been shielding you from.

Little Baby Bear, I know you weren’t big enough to have bear cubs of your own, but when a cub is snatched out of a mama bear’s hands, she will run after her cub and fight the person who stole her baby to the death to get her precious cub back. That’s how much mama bears love their babies. You know how much you loved your “vroom vrooms?” Imagine someone made every single one so that you couldn’t play with them while you weren’t looking. All the wheels would be locked and when you found them, and you couldn’t get on the floor and play with them anymore. You go get them to play and you can’t believe what you are seeing. Your heart races and you have Daddy call for help to fix them. You talk to the people while you are trying to get the wheels to turn with your bare hands, but nothing is working. Finally, the men with better machines crouch to where you are desperately trying to fix them, but as soon as they see their condition, they tell you it is too late. They put wires on your vroom vrooms to show you that they can’t help you, but you try to think of alternatives. You tell them you know it’s not the same, but they decrease the temperatures for Hot Wheels that fall in a river. Could it work for your perfect vroom vrooms, too?

Men with badges and some wearing suits come in and tell you to leave your vroom vrooms, but you don’t want to go. You cry and ask if someone will stay and watch them, and they assure you that they will. You are all alone with one of the suited men, and he judges your every sentence as he records the interrogation. You were too exhausted to even change into pajamas that night, so you are still wearing jeans and a hoodie. You know the stern look on his face and furrow in his brow is just there because he needs to know that you weren’t the one who did that to your vroom vrooms, but you still feel like a criminal in your own house. More men in black uniforms and guns come in, and one is playing games on his phone. You’ve already asked him if he has any cars in his garage and he tells you, “no.” He goes back to playing his game because he doesn’t understand what it is like to have the one thing that made you so happy instantly gone. You tell them that you are glad your house is a mess because you played with your little vroom vrooms every extra second you had.

A man with a backwards hat and a camera comes inside and gets to go be with your vroom vrooms, but you aren’t finished answering questions about what kind of fuel you put in your cars last night and what time the mechanic appointment was the day before. You can barely remember your name and you keep shaking your head thinking this must be some kind of vivid nightmare. This can’t really be happening. You think that if you were ever put in this situation you would scream or vomit, or be hysterical, but somehow all the shock and adrenaline is keeping you from literally going crazy.

You finally get to see Daddy again and you are crying so hard the snot and tears run together. This CANNOT really be happening. More and more impossible questions keep coming about what to do with your vroom vrooms and where they should go. You don’t know the answers to any of these and don’t even know what options exist. There wasn’t time to check the reviews for the best “vendors” to handle this situation, but they are rushing you and your brain is in a fog. They add in “You’re going to need to make a decision pretty quickly,” but you don’t know what the right decision could be. However, you know cars this new usually get taken to a diagnostic shop to figure out why they stopped working. The men in the black uniforms have never even heard of a private diagnostic business, but between Daddy’s Google search, advice from your mechanical network of friends, and the tag agency of sorts, you find another stop along your vroom vrooms’ route.

One really nice man wearing one of the black uniforms asks if you have a church family he can call. You don’t have that yet, so he keeps encouraging you to call someone to come be with you. You know Grandma has been around these types of situations and wouldn’t pass out, so Daddy makes up a lie to get her to come over. She knows something is wrong but never could have predicted this.

The man with the camera comes out of the room and tells you he has done this for a long time and seen some terrible wrecks. He tells you that he could tell you loved your vroom vrooms very much, and you tell him you always will. He also says that there was nothing you or anyone else could have done to prevent this, but immediately you question his credentials. How could he possibly know that? Is he a certified mechanic? What does he know that you don’t?

The men scribble things on notepads and go outside and to other rooms to make phone calls. Finally, they tell you that yours and Daddy’s stories match up and so did the one they got from your mechanic. Their job was done, so they start filing out of the house. One man with a badge stays behind.

Two more men from another official car agency come and after the longest wait of your life, you get to go be with your vroom vrooms again. It is so hard to see your beautiful, perfect vroom vrooms that way, and every minute that has passed has changed their condition. You want to see them, but you also know the longer time goes by, the more this will haunt you for the rest of your life. Daddy can’t even watch, it hurts too much. He stares out the window crying while you hold your vroom vrooms one last time. You kiss them, and sing them a song through your tears before the short, apologetic man wraps them in a white sheet and takes them away forever. You tell him to drive carefully even though you know your vroom vrooms can’t be hurt any more.

Some people tell Mommy that she should put on a happy face for you and that you wouldn’t want to see me sad. I promise you, Baby Boy, we are doing our best to function every day at work and on our own time. We are spreading The Caleb Effect every chance we get, but I hope you also have some sort of protected understanding that losing you is not only a full-time overwhelming shock, but it also came with a super-sized helping of trauma. I told you the EXTREMELY abridged, PG-rated version, but since I still feel like you are not able to experience any sadness where you are, I think you can handle it now.

Since today marks one year without you, this will be the last video and blog post in this series on the 2nd of each month. After today, we will not be posting on the day that marks the worst day of our lives, but instead we will be celebrating the best day – the day you were born. Every 9th of the month, we will be sharing The Caleb Effect to celebrate your much too brief, but exceptionally full life. We hope others will join us and tell us about it on your website or Facebook page.

This was the last video we ever got to take of you, so it is appropriate that this is the last video in the series. So much has happened in the year that we haven’t seen your beautiful, angelic little face, heard your excited sound effects playing with your vroom vrooms or passing an emergency vehicle on the highway. Everywhere we go there are reminders of you. I took a taxi a couple weeks ago and it made me think of you. You only rode in a couple taxis in your life, but I remember so clearly you pointing one out in front of your “school,” and yelling “taxi!!” Remember the wooden Jesus and all the children on the way to see Nemo? Well, we are officially part of that church where you went to “twos.” Your name appeared on the screen during the Memorial Day service, and we sobbed while we lit a candle for you, and decided the time was right. All kinds of signs have appeared and we’ve used them to direct our next moves. We bought a plot of land where all three of us will be someday, and one of these days it might even get finished (Help us either decide to go with some brightly colored painted granite, or find another alternative that better suits your personality.). Your cousins are all getting bigger, but I think your less than two-week older cousin would still be a head taller. Baby Griffin just turned a year old, and we get to see her more often since they moved closer. I give her kisses for you all the time and let her know that you love her. Daddy has your handprint over his heart and words inspired by you on his arm, and we started a website dedicated to spreading your contagious love. Mommy’s office is closing, and normally I would be really upset. However, it is going to force me to share my creative side with our community, and maybe as I keep stepping outside my comfort zone, an even larger audience. Mommy never belonged inside an office, but I’ve met a lot of nice people there over the years. Help me put new plans in motion so I can choose to work outside with my laptop some days, or use my music to boost spirits. There is still a lot to do to make life worth living every day, so please help us focus on what you would want us to do, and help us live a second, minute, hour, or day at a time until we get to see you again.

There are so many things I still want to say to you and tell you about, but Mommy always did have a lot of words. You never made it to real school, but I’m going to bet you might have had “talks too much” on every report card like Mommy, too.

I still miss holding and kissing you, and playing and laughing together. I’m never going to stop learning from you, Baby Bear. I wish we could all look at ourselves and beam like you did in this video.

You LOVED babies (right Mandi Moon?)! In fact, the whole reason I got my phone out in the first place was because you kept asking to watch the little video Aunt RoRo sent with your new baby cousin. I wanted to show Aunt RoRo how excited you were that she had arrived, so I flipped the camera around so you could see yourself and started recording. I asked who you wanted to see, but you were too distracted by your beautiful face to pronounce your words. I will always be distracted by that gorgeous face, but it is still very difficult to watch you and know I don’t get to pick you up and kiss you just for being so adorable. You went from telling me as clear as a bell, “Mama, Baby Griffin, Mama Baby Griffin,” to smiling and playing in the “mirror” as soon as I got my phone out. You were so proud of yourself, and so were we. We will always be proud of you, Baby Boy. No amount of prodding or asking who you wanted to see again would provide the clear responses like the ones you requested right before I got my phone out to record this moment. You didn’t care what I was saying. There were more faces in the camera to amuse yourself. These are the simple moments that Mommy misses so badly.

I’m sorry you never got to meet Baby Evan or Baby Griffin in person. I know you would have had such a good time playing and being the big cousin, so I hope you still show up in their rooms and play when Unka Steve, Aunt Rachelle, Unka Thomas, and Aunt RoRo aren’t looking. Be with them when they excitedly clap and celebrate every little silly face or new day to enjoy life. I would clap all day long if I got to hold you and see that sweet face smiling at himself in my phone again.

Patience was not a virtue you had mastered, and neither have I. I won’t understand in this lifetime how Mommy can record a video of a little boy with a simple ear infection and less than 24 hours, go through the agony of finding you the way I did. Please help me sit still to watch the video of life unfold before I get to squirm out of this temporary home, too. Waiting is so very difficult.

I don’t know how you got such wisdom and perspective at only 2-years-old, but it will not end a year after you left this world. We will treasure the gift of Caleb Lennon Wile for the rest of our lives.

I love you, Baby Boy. I always will.

One day.

Love, Mommy

XXXOOOXXX

11 months

Hi Baby Boy. I love you.

I have not stopped missing you like a mad woman, and maybe I never will. You let Daddy and me experience perfect love and excitement every single day of your life and we will forever be grateful for every distinct second spent with you. You made us laugh at all the resourceful ways you figured out how to solve your own problems, and it still absolutely does not seem like this could really be our reality.

It is almost Easter and we wish so badly that we could fill plastic eggs with all kinds of vroom vrooms for you again. A one dollar Hot Wheel car, monster truck or “hah-doe” (helicopter) made you light up and let us hear that tiny, high-pitched toddler voice full of joy and excitement! Maybe this year we would have had you dye real eggs or used the Star Wars decorating kit that we neglected to open last year. I still have a little package of yellow Peeps from your basket that you never got to try, but it didn’t seem right to throw them away. I hope you get to taste all the colors of Peeps in heaven, Baby Bear.

Eleven months since we last saw your sweet, inquisitive face. That makes the pit in my stomach clench with the millions of knots tightly cinched together. It feels like an angry mob keeps kicking me over and over, and sometimes they stomp so hard I can’t breathe. People ask how we are doing and I don’t know how to answer. What should I say? Some people have this idea in their heads that our answers should fit neatly in the boxes of the “stages of grief” they read about in their high school psychology class. They think because it is getting closer to a year without you that we should be heading into that last “acceptance” box and then voila, we should be back to the people they once knew! We will never be the same without you.

Also, don’t worry, I can see straight through acquaintances’ prying questions about Daddy and I to see if we are getting along or if they can make a judgment about whether we are going to wind up turning against each other like a lot of mommies and daddies do after losing a child. You probably already know that Mommy and Daddy are soul mates and would fight any bad guys like Francesco or Darth Vader for each other. That will always be true. Mommy can handle herself, but if they try to mess with your Daddy, I will go crazy on them and smash their ill intentions or expose their selfish motives like the angriest, crazy Hulk. Yes, I will always love your daddy.

You may also hear people tell us that “at least you can have more kids” as some kind of solution to “fix” our sadness. I really hope you can’t hear these kinds of things where you are now, or you have been given wisdom to know that people just say them because they don’t know what else to say. I promise you, there will never be another person in the universe or beyond who could take your place. I also know that if we asked parents with at least two children, 100% would tell you that if they lost one child, the other could never glue their shattered hearts back together (nor should they feel the pressure to have to). I don’t fault the general public or even curious friends, I just realize most people have never experienced this kind of horrific real-life nightmare (and I pray to God they never do), and can’t possibly understand what it is like to go through the motions of each day without the biggest piece of their heart and soul.

We are also fortunate to have a handful of friends who are still “safe” to talk to and see both our fierce, personal struggles just to survive, as well as our new developments outside our comfort zones to make something constructive come from so much devastation and tragedy. Just as you were so independent and always did things your way, the way we are coping with the shock and trauma has to be managed the way that feels right to us. We throw down the egg that holds the convoluted grief manual, and try to make something meaningful crack open and pick up traction onto the Earth.

There are also Yoda baskets in our lives carried by people we need. It is not easy to let them carry those eggs, especially for independent people like us, but we know we can’t keep running around the yard with our hands full. The cruelty and agony of my grief is different than Daddy’s, but each parallels the depth of love Mommy and Daddy will always have for you. I know this just means I love you with a love that will never stop missing you and waiting for the day I get to hold you in my arms again, but you are worth every tear, grey hair, and lost nights of sleep. I know my heart will always ache with a hurt and hole only you can fill, and that is ok because that is the price of love. I will always love you, my baby, Caleb.

Keep reminding everyone that being stubborn and doing things your way can be a beautiful, powerful thing. You always knew what you wanted and you never let anyone stop you from collecting the pieces of life that meant the most to you, and leaving the others behind. When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Baby Boy. Help Mommy to be brave and also set boundaries to tell people “no.” Teach me to learn to ask for help like you did with your green egg and to remember to say “nu nu” (thank you). Thank you for continuing to inspire us to be better people and to keep fighting harder than any dinosaur or Avenger, even when we wish our hearts would have stopped with yours. How lucky we were to have been your parents here on Earth. I hope “The Caleb Effect” is collected and balanced in both hands until it falls out and leaves more than enough for everyone to play in the dirt again and again.

I love you.

Love,
Mommy

#CalebEffect

To give a child a Hot Wheels car in Caleb’s honor, click on the "Be Nice" tab.

Ten months

Hi Baby. I love you.

No one will ever make me laugh quite like you did. You smiled with your whole face, but laughed with your ENTIRE body. You couldn’t release all your joy with just the exhale of your giggle or another contagious breath of hilarity. No, your happiness sprung straight out of your innocent toddler heart and had an exceptional way of landing deep into my soul. You didn’t have to say a word. One look and I knew exactly what game you wanted to play. We would pretend to laugh but it never took long before our “fake laughs” turned into the real deal. We were cut from the same cloth, Baby Boy, and understood each other perfectly. You were our hysterical comedian with so much raw bliss packed into your pint-sized frame. When you wanted to perform, you made sure we were watching and kicked your charm into full throttle. The whole world disappeared when we were together and you blew us away with a wit far beyond your two short years.

We were such a happy family together and I hate that we have had to live for ten months without our most joyful little boy. Every single day since we have not held you in our arms just cracking up together on the couch, makes us ache for you that much more. People told us that more days and months will make missing you easier, but I’m having a very hard believing this could really be true. Maybe people just get better at putting on a brave face in public and telling the stories without a quivering lip.

Without you, I know the best days of life are behind us, and we will never be made whole on this planet. However, I promise you until the day I take my last breath, I will NEVER give up spreading The Caleb Effect to every corner of the world. If I never laugh like this again, you will still have given me enough love and joy to last the rest of my earthly days.

“I’d rather have 30 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.”

You will always be special, Caleb, and I thank God we had more than 30 minutes with you. Thank you for showing us how to live a carefree, cheerful life. Some people go a hundred years without experiencing the kind of happiness you shared with us every day, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

To all your friends, family and those who never had the pleasure of holding you with your footie pajamas: go make someone laugh today.

I love you and I always will.

One day.

Love, Mommy
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#calebeffect

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy

Three years ago you made Daddy and me the proudest and happiest people in the world. Daddy told me you were perfect and as soon as he saw you he said, "Oh my gosh, it's me!" 

The first words I ever said to you were "I love you," as they laid you on my chest. I sang happy birthday" to you and kissed you over and over. You were bigger than I thought you would be and I remember how surreal it felt to truly comprehend the miracle of new life. How could it be that just a few short minutes earlier you were living inside of me and now you were breathing air and telling us how mad you were that you didn't get to camp out for the 42nd week, too? 

I loved being your Mommy here on Earth and I wish I could still hold you in my arms and tell you how much I will always love you, my little boy. I would sing you any song as many times as you wanted and never get tired of staring at your beautiful, peaceful face. 

I didn't want this day to get here but the days don't take their direction from me. 

What would you have wanted to do today? Would you still love "ownj ice" (frozen mangoes) and dancing to your own songs in a circle? Would you know all the words to "happy birthday" now? 

We took little gift bags to your friends today because Daddy wanted to make sure they knew how much you loved playing with them and how you remembered to say "night, night" to each of them every single night. I'm sorry I couldn't hold it together and some of your friends saw me so upset. I wanted to do this together, but at least now I know my limits.

We couldn't buy you a bright yellow Tonka truck, or any of your favorite toys this year, so you will have to imagine them wrapped up in a website dedicated just to you. I couldn't have done this without Aunt RoRo (Rose Lindo-Lundy), so send her extra love and angel kisses. 

Happy birthday, my forever 2-year-old! Mommy will forever be grateful you were born.

With all my love now and always.

Love, Mommy

Nine months

Nine
The number of months it took to create the sweetest blue-eyed boy that grew inside of me. I’ve wanted to vomit many times, my heart hurts, and I can’t sleep just like when I was pregnant with you, but that is not what I will remember from carrying you for nine months. As the quote says, "No one else will ever know the strength of my love for you. After all, you're the only one who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside." I hope you still know how strong my love is for you even though you aren’t on either side of my body here on Earth. It is not true when people say that I “loved” you. No, I will ALWAYS love you even after my heart stops beating too. Daddy will always love you beyond measure as well and I hope you feel every tender word he says to you in your room each night. 

We took our time traveling, going to concerts, and having late nights with our friends before we decided we were ready for you, so you should know how much you were SO joyfully anticipated. We absolutely couldn’t wait for all the love you would bring to our new lives as parents, and the bliss resonated beyond every corner of our heart in places we never even knew existed. Now MY Daddy and too many other friends and family have had 9 months to know you, play together and love you too. I know as I’ve been reminded countless times, that you “are in a better place,” but forgive me, Baby Bear. Mommy is still jealous. 

I’ve always known that biologically you were ours, but you were a child meant to unite the whole world, too. You loved people just for existing in the same space with you so please hear me when I ask you to continue to help us remember to share that love often in a world full of broken people. We need your unconditional harmony and bright light more than ever right now. Maybe this world was too cruel for you to live in it anymore, but I couldn’t help having dreams for your future. I just knew you were going to grow up and tell us you were moving to some far flung, remote village in Norway or maybe building and racing cars at the Grand Prix. I was already preparing myself for when you fell in love and had your own obligations and family, but letting you go like this was never in our plans. You never did anything the way we envisioned so we learned to adjust. However, losing you without an explanation at 2, and not seeing you again until we get to heaven is something Daddy and I are still struggling every second to grasp and something to which we will never quite adjust. We know we will not find answers on this side of heaven, but it still does not seem like this is really reality. It’s like we are in a long nightmare and you are going to lift up our eyes and your Thomas the Train tent and start laughing after hiding there for nine months. Maybe we are still in some sort of shock because facing reality all at once would take us out of this world, too. 

Nine.
The day in February that you were born and the day that in one week will be here without you whether we like it or not. I wish it could be like the miracle that each baby is to this world, and the 40-week (or 41 in your case) gestation period would be over and I could rest you in my arms again and stare at my beautiful angel. I’m ready for our euphoric reunion to kiss your perfect and innocent, ivory face. It is agonizing knowing we don’t get a countdown with the number of days and weeks we have left until that day finally comes. We are still fervently waiting, but as today starts to spin into another day and that turns into another week, and another month, we realize it is most likely going to be a very long time before that day arrives. Mommy and Daddy miss you more than you will ever know and life will never be the same without your cheerful physical presence. We are still doing our best, but we still need a lot of help. 

Nine.
One of the 30 numbers you knew at only 2 years old. Such a simple memory I tried to capture to show how cute you were just making up words to your book and “reading” to your kitty. Instead I managed a few seconds of what we called your “poop face” and a very proud little boy telling his mommy what number he saw on TV. I hope you don’t mind me showing your fan club this rather personal moment. I will be sure to tell them that sometimes you were interested in the potty, too, and that you had even made this same face twice while sitting on your Spiderman insert with success. Mommy and Daddy were clapping and cheering for you so you joined in the potty party slapping your hands together and yelling “Yaaaaaaaaaaay!” We were so proud of everything you did, Sweet Boy. When you learned your first letter “O” off Mommy’s OU sweatshirt, I excitedly told your teachers when you went to “1s” the next morning. You were still new to the class so they didn’t know you very well yet and I could tell they were thinking “uh, huh, sure lady.” However, when I came back to pick you up that afternoon they said, “Caleb knows his Os! We even quizzed him and he pointed out the letters on the wall and on the rug!” I just smiled. It wasn’t long before you had learned all the letters and they told me you answered all the questions at circle time and that you might be bored when you got to real school. You were such a smart little baby who loved to learn! You would get so excited when the “Letter Show” (AKA “Wheel of Fortune”) came on and you loved imitating the contestants calling out their guesses. You were so pleased with yourself and why wouldn’t you be? When we grow up and become big people, sometimes we forget that we don’t have to be as perfect as we were when we came into this world in order to still love ourselves. Mommy is trying to put this into practice and step outside of her comfort zone to do what she loves, but I’m a work in progress. We learned far more from you, Little Bear Cub, than we could have ever taught you, but it takes us a lot longer than the way it came so easily to you. Even if you didn’t know any letters, numbers, silly songs, or anything, we would have loved you exactly the same.

Nine. 
The number of months we have survived, but nowhere near the number that we will keep your memory alive. We will never stop telling the world about you and we hope the world never stops asking us to hear your story. God only knows how much I miss you and how obliterated my heart will always be. I do believe you are shielded from suffering and from all those that suffer. I also believe you only feel my grief as my love pouring out of my eyes for you. 

The difference you have made in these 9 months is something, although outside my womb, I am going to continue to nurture for the rest of my life.

I love you and there is nothing anyone could ever do that will ever take my love away from you. Someday I will cuddle with you again and kiss your sweet baby face. You will shout, “Mommy” and I will cry happy tears and reach out with my arms open wide. I will hold you and you will pat me on the back and we will kiss each other over and over and over. Someday I will be happy again and I will never let you go. Each day, whether it is full of monotony and unfulfilling duties or not, is still one day closer to you. I try to keep that in mind when these milestones come up.

Nine. The label on the video that I will never get tired of watching.

One day.

Night, night, Angel Baby. Until we meet again. 

Love, Mommy

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Eight months

2016 was by far the worst year of our lives but in some ways I didn't want it to end. I will be honest and acknowledge how impossible these last 8 months have seemed. There are some days we weren't sure we could go another second more without you here physically with us, and the holidays forced an even wider magnifying glass on the celebrations we should be spending together. Although we avoided the stores, parties, and even our house, we weren't blind to the fact that special days were still on the faces of the rest of the world. Everyone was rushing off to their festivities but we couldn't hear the commotion through all the surreal haze.

We are FOREVER grateful for the 2 years, 2 months and 23 days you spent with us, and for all the thoughtful people who are still praying and showing us they care, but it was hard not to feel guilty on November 24th for realizing all we had lost. Strangers assume we are a "young couple" without kids, or maybe honeymooners naive in their new love, but we know we aren't the same people we were before we had you. We used to be parents who thought we had forever happily traded playing on our phones mindlessly after work and popping frozen dinners in the oven at 10pm for make believe conversations on your play phone, and cleaning up the spilled peas and carrots that fell off your "Lightning McQueen" plate. It's like we have been dropped in some foreign territory where nothing makes sense and we don't understand what's going on around us. 

So, no, it has not been "the most wonderful time of the year." 

I hated that the holidays would even have the audacity to arrive without you. Didn't the world know that brightest light in our house is shining wildly in spirit but the twinkling branches of our miniature tree are still stuffed in the attic? Do the shelves at Target know that some of those "choo choos," books, and Star Wars toys should've been in our basket again this year waiting for your excited face? Do the pharmacists wonder why they haven't seen the little boy who probably would have had bronchitis again this Christmas, but who never let that stop him from smiling and saying "hi" to them anyway? 

We are doing our best to make you proud of us, Caleb, but sometimes I think the world could use a reminder that you never know when you will go from sitting in the living room together enjoying another peaceful morning with your family to waking up to your worst nightmare. The holidays can bring chaos wrapped in glitter, but I hope when the decorations and elves get neatly tucked away, everyone is left with the treasures that really matter.

Eight months without the center of our universe, but we will always love you and miss you no matter how many pages in the calendar are turned. Although we will not get to make any new memories with you in 2017, we will not leave you behind in 2016. We will continue to talk about you and to encourage others to do the same. We will be watching patiently (or not so patiently sometimes) for your undeniable signs to let us know you are still with us in spirit. When it seems cruel of the sun to rise on a new day, we will do our best to remember all the miraculous ways people have been touched by the love of one small boy, and how once upon a time one small boy brought miracles and rose again on a new day, too.

I love you so much, Angel Baby. I always will. 

Someday we will get to spend these days together again and we will never be apart. 

One day.

Love, Mommy

Seven months

"Hi." 
I write to you every day and this is the first thing I say, followed by "I love you." 

Daddy and Mommy's hearts still ache missing you and not being able to kiss your smooth, toddler cheeks multiple times a day. We still wish we could pick you up and nestle you in our arms, or read you one more story. You never spent a single night without at least one of us to kiss you goodnight or help you change out of your adorable "footy pajamas" the next morning. You only had a babysitter four times in your whole life because we loved spending every second we had with you. 

We will never understand in this life why we didn't get to hold you longer than 2 years, 2 months and 23 days. Seven months without our friendliest, happy boy and we miss you more with every passing day. "Aunt RoRo" Rose Lindo-Lundy said you must be conducting something really important in Heaven and I will always wonder what that could be.

As I look back at the videos we took of your much too brief life, I think Ana Hernandez-Covey is right. She told me you are probably the "Wal-Mart greeter of Heaven," and I can picture it so clearly in my mind. Maybe you are standing at the Pearly Gates saying "hi," just as you are here, and perhaps a few lucky souls also get "high fives" and maybe even a few "knuckles" to go with their newly acquired wings.

You loved meeting new people and brightening their day. You wanted to spread love to every single person you ever met, and I know you are still using those you love to spread "The Caleb Effect" to people who never had the privilege of meeting you in this life.

I've said this before but it is worth repeating now. The only difference between a stranger and a friend is the word, "hello." Maybe I will change that from "hello" to "hi." 

So, keep reminding us, sweet boy, to say "hi" to someone we don't know even when we are sad or when the world has not shown us an equal kindness. You will always be the most special little boy to Mommy and Daddy and we will never stop loving you or saying "hi" every day.

"Hi, baby." I love you. 
One day.

Six months

Six months seems like an eternity. 

We miss you beyond measure, Baby Bear. The house is quiet, but the sound of not having these everyday moments with you is deafening. 

You loved trading "fives" and "knuckles" for candy, and spreading your contagious, extroverted joy last Halloween. Daddy may have been relieved not to be a Disney princess again this year, but we were both crushed we didn't get to watch you trick-or-treat with all your friends.

Even though you didn't always give your "meow meow" soft touches, he hasn't stopped looking for you.That's the power you had and still have on every living creature you met (and even some you didn't). You taught us all how to love deeper and wrap our arms tighter around the people and critters we love the most.

There's not a nanosecond that goes by that Mommy and Daddy aren't thinking about you and waiting for the day we can finally pick you up and wrap our arms tightly around you again. I hope my daddy and all your new friends in heaven are enjoying you because when I get there, I'm never going to put you down or stop kissing your perfect, angel cheeks. 

One day. 

Love, Mommy
with Ken Toey

Five months

(Written by Caleb's Daddy)
We put too much stock into material things - temporary objects that distract us and amuse us yet return no affection nor companionship. I am just as guilty as anyone of this crime, but I am trying to change that. Don't let hobbies and gadgets take time away from what is truly important in life: friends, family, and faith.

I cherish every video and picture we have of Caleb. It has been 5 months without him and he continues to be a shining example of what is good in this world. We never know darkness unless we know light, and sometimes it seems like we will never know light again. 

But we will. One day. Until then, Bernie and I are trying to figure out how to live without our light. One day at a time.

Four months

Caleb inherited both of our stubbornness and liked to skip specific numbers when he knew you wanted him to count on command. Treasure the everyday moments. Four months without them is suffocating. 

One day.

Three months

Caleb taught us to give love freely and with excitement! Three months without his pure joy, hurts.

When I grow up, I want to be just like him. Give someone a kiss today in Caleb's honor.

Ken Toey, get your lips ready.

Two months

Every day with Caleb brought pure joy. He loved the simple things in life like hanging out with his mommy and admiring his happy baby face on the phone. I loved the way he loved himself and lost focus on anything else. Kids instinctively understand we are created in God's image. It is only later in life we learn to doubt. 

Two months without our angel. May we live the rest of our lives trying to be more like him. 

One month

One month since we've seen your sweet face, held you in our arms, and kissed your perfect cheeks. "Good morning," entertaining angel. Daddy and Mommy will never stop loving you.

Caleb's Memorial Service - May 6th, St. Luke's-OKC

Caleb's memorial service, like his life, was short, powerful, and uplifting.

We hope our friends and family across the globe who were either too far away, didn't know us then, or didn't think they couldn't handle the sadness of attending a memorial for a 2-year-old, will watch now.

It was recorded on our home video camera, so the quality is not perfect. Luckily, the message and videos of Caleb's life can be felt even when every pixel can't be seen.

Special thanks to Rev. Dave Poteet, at St. Luke's for officiating. We had never met him before planning the service and he did a phenomenal job focusing on "The Caleb Effect" that you are experiencing with every word you read.

(I might be a little OCD when it comes to details of Caleb's life, so a couple caveats to mention are that the "Busted" story was Bernie's, and we had already picked out "Lennon," as Caleb's middle name. While "Lennon" is partially in honor of our love of music and the Beatles, the other reason we chose that name is that it is an homage to our patriarchs. (Adam's grandfather was named Lyndel, and his uncle is Lynn. Bernie's father was named "Lee," and his sister is "Linda." Lee's brother is "Lon," Linda's late husband was "John," and there are letters from each of his other siblings in the name, "Lennon." Caleb was a week overdue, so it just happened to work out that it was the 50-year anniversary of the first time the Beatles played in the US. They only had one room left after delivery. That room number...64."  

That would have taken way too long to explain anyway, but it makes my neurotic side shake less in the corner.)

If you never had the great joy of meeting Caleb, I hope after watching, you feel like you have.

Messages From Mommy and Daddy

Several people have asked us for copies of the messages we wrote to Caleb for his memorial service so I thought it fitting to make them the first blog post. 
 

A Message from Mommy

My dearest baby, Caleb, my floorboard pitter-patter,
My sandy-haired blue-eyed angel, how I loved your joyful chatter.

February ninth -- the absolute best day of my life.
You added “Mommy” to my title, where it sat proudly next to “wife!”

Daddy laid you in my arms and “happy birthday” I did sing,
I never could have imagined the depth of love that you would bring.

You were my miracle from heaven, ten tiny fingers and kissable toes,
You looked an awful lot like Daddy but with Mommy’s mouth and miniature nose.

We took you home and introduced you to the “woof woof” and “meows,”
Where the howling roommate and ceiling fan shaped your trademark eyebrows.

Your high-pitched giggles and excitement when the “Tickle Monster” gave chase,
I will forever cherish these memories, jewels in life’s too hurried pace.

You would climb on my back and we would pretend to fly through the air,
Or dress just like Daddy, except you still had more hair.

Whether climbing to your car seat, or reaching a book on the second shelf,
I adored your independent nature, and the way you said, “self, self.”

My sweetest little drummer boy, you are a gift, a light, a treasure.
The hole left in our hearts is too cavernous to measure.

I wish I could kiss your soft cheeks and bottle the way you smell,
Sing you one more sweet rhyme, spike your hair with your gel.

I want to hold you and hug you, and get a few more pats on the back,
See your perfectly fanned eyelashes, and prepare your favorite snack.

You smiled with your whole face -- such a magnificent, bright star,
You are the center of our universe, although now from afar.

Your purpose on Earth, though it was much much too brief,
Was to teach us to love even in the midst of our grief.

I love you beautiful boy. Until we meet again.
Come visit us in our dreams, amen, amen, amen.

---

Daddy's Message to Caleb

Caleb Lennon Wile touched every soul he met, and he never knew a stranger. Caleb didn’t care how much money you had, or what kind of car you drove, what your skin color was, or who your favorite football team is. If you met him, he loved you. Just for being you. Just for being here on Earth, he loved you.

The eyes are often described as “windows to the soul,” and when you looked into his beautiful blue eyes you understood that to be true. When you looked at Caleb you could see Bernie’s remarkable empathy and her limitless energy. From his father he received a passionate curiosity and an occasional lack of coordination. Caleb was brilliant, too – he could count to thirty, name every vehicle on the road, and use words like “toucan”, “racket”, and “ambulance”. He loved animals and routinely tackled our very tolerant cat so he could kiss him on the nose. Although his favorites were peas and frozen mangoes, his first food was avocado, and the only thing in this world he would not eat was an olive.

Caleb returned to heaven in the care of his grandpa, great-grandparents, and countless friends that are all waiting their turn to spend time with this precious soul. He was only with us for an achingly brief time, but Caleb has changed this world for the better. His message to us was as loud and clear as his police car imitation: Love each other unconditionally. Hug your children, no matter how old they are. And housekeeping and chores can wait, for children won’t keep.