Davis Collins Updates

I will always wear it for my boy! 🕷️ It’s tradition! He just loved all the silly little things I would do to brighten his otherwise mundane day, including the annual spider on my head for Halloween! 🎃 I know he’s smiling just as big today as he did on this day 2 years ago with his classmates! 👻

6 Months

January is such a cold month. The idea of putting extra layers on, putting kids on the bus, or shoveling your way out of your driveway would make anyone shiver. That was my little secret advantage, I never had to do any of that. On those ultra cold mornings, I could let Davis sleep a little longer, wake him up by snuggling into his bed with him, and pull a cozy blanket over both of us. He would rest his head on my shoulder, look out at the dreary cold day, and not be bothered by it in the least. It was a double-edged sword of course, with his medical conditions prohibiting us from participating in physical society, but the bubble we lived in was nice and cozy.

Waking up Davis was no easy task. It was an endless set of caregiving routines that required layers of physical and mental concentration. Despite all that, I knew just how lucky I was to be in that place at that exact time. I knew we might not get to do this forever. I made a choice to adapt my mindset, that the grueling work to take care of him was a privilege, not a burden. I granted myself grace when I would get overwhelmed, tried to turn negatives into positives, and found every microscopic silver lining to simply remember that one day, I may not have this privilege any longer.

After the snuggle time was over, I would start our rigorous routines, but on those extra cold
mornings, I would put his pants and shirt in the dryer for a few minutes to warm. Davis did not
communicate well, but it was one of those little things that made him show emotion, a sweet smile that warmed even the coldest January day.

To him, it was purely his mother’s love. To me, it was a memory that someday would keep me warm somehow when everything suddenly went cold. I knew what I had. I knew I could lose it at any given moment. Despite all my efforts to
cherish every tiny thing to eventually ease the pain of losing him, I would still trade the world to
wake him up one more time and snuggle.

As I take a freezing cold walk around sunset six months later, I think of those sweet little memories. Just as I suspected and prepared for, the memories are all I have left.

The Eternal Wave

That’s the name of my special pendant. Encased inside are some of Davis’s ashes. Jared’s pendant is etched with Davis’s fingerprint along with his ashes. It is a beautiful way for us to symbolically bring Davis with us wherever we go. We brought them to Dauphin Island last weekend, 3 months since his passing.

Most people only see a glimpse of the shore when it is calm and peaceful, but it can be a terrifying place at times. Like the ocean, Davis battled storm after raging storm, his body left permanently scarred by each terrifying blow. The sun would always rise again with the promise of gentler waves and calmer skies, but that promise came with the sobering reality that each storm took its toll.

We stood at the shore with him and faced the most unimaginable circumstances. We covered him, protected him, and braced for the worst in a place no one else would dare to bravely stand tall. When we survived each storm together, the sun would rise and set again, but with a deeper
appreciation for the moments of calmness, and an understanding of the increasing fragility of life.

As Davis’s heart began to fail, we knew that the sun was setting. Sunset can be beautiful, alive with colors and spectacular light, but inevitably fading away to darkness. We soaked in his light as long as we were allowed to exist in it, until the sun descended for the final time. The storm finally consumed him. Without the warmth he provided, it suddenly became cold and devoid of light. Standing on the same shore where he once stood, I wrapped myself in the same blanket I used for years to at his hospital bedside and kept myself warm with his light that he left behind. His energy is still felt throughout our home, and we both felt his energy strongly on this night while on the beach as we watched the sunset. Despite it feeling like the sun would never rise again, it did, inevitably and assuredly, now with Davis’s spirit a part of it all. The waves continue to ebb and flow, some days calmer than others, but just as before, we gained a stronger appreciation for the legacy he left behind.

The void of his absence will never be filled, but he will live on because of the immense love we carry for him. That love is never-ending, like the waves that will always kiss the shore, an eternal wave.