Be Okay by Lauren Daigle

I felt my phone buzz as I rode in the passenger seat of Alex’s grey Subaru Impreza. We were driving home from a weekend in Iowa with William’s Grandma Christi, Grandpa Karl, Uncle Jer, Auntie Claire, and cousins Shepherd and new baby, Truett William. I was feeling empty, as I usually did (and do) when I see and then have to leave my family. You’d think after doing it over and over again since I was seven I would get better at it, but the pit in my stomach shows up every time. Having my entire family live states away from me for the last twelve years has proven to be tough several times, but now that William’s gone the distance feels further. I was also feeling empty because there should have been a carseat in the back with a fussy baby to complain about at some points along the four hour drive. I was thinking back to the day before, shopping in the little boys section of a store with my mom and sister-in-law, feeling overwhelmed with excitement that there were two little boys we could shop for and sad that I won’t be able to buy clothes for William to wear ever again.

I opened the text message that triggered the notification, it was from Amy, my childhood best friend’s mom, “Before you listen… I just heard this song… by no means am I trying to minimize a loss so great…” I immediately got excited. Anytime someone texts me about William, I feel hopeful- like we’re being seen and thought of; like William is still around somehow even if not physically. Her text message went on to explain that she doesn’t want to hurt us in any way, but wanted to share this song because she immediately thought of William, Alex, and me. I didn’t respond right away because I wanted to listen to the song first.

I read Alex the text and then plugged my phone into the car, searched for the song and pressed play. We both listened silently and intently. The tears for me started almost immediately. “You’re gonna be okay…” was exactly what I needed to hear in that moment. When the song got to the line Amy had noted in her texts, it took my breath away.

“Love’ll meet you there, you’re gonna be alright.” The tears kept rolling as I re-read her words, “I believe and know that William is love and he will meet you there.”

I responded to Amy explaining that there was no offense taken at all and I was grateful to her for thinking of William and us and reaching out. We actually have had several people send similar texts. Since William was born, that has been something I’ve marveled at, the number of people who love us and William so well. The texts and phone calls and cards have slowed down quite a bit now that William’s been gone for longer than he was here, but they haven’t completely stopped and that’s incredible. The love keeps on coming and it keeps being illuminated because of William’s life and death. Amy was right- William is love.

This thought brought me back to when Truett William was born and his dad wrote and shared on social media, “…daddy’s prayer is that… you are strong and courageous, and you catalyze love in those around you, like your namesake & cousin before you.”

William’s life was short and he was still a baby when he died, but the amount of love that he demanded in the people who love him is astounding and extremely rare in my opinion. Without words and very few physical movements made on his own, William embodied and taught unconditional love like nothing and nobody I’ve ever seen before.

I know I will be keeping that love at the forefront of my mind in everything that comes next in my life. I know that no matter what, I will do my best to move forward in that love. Love for others and love for myself too, because there is something to be said about that balance. I challenge you to do the same. William’s love was the closest tangible feeling to the love I heard about in all the churches I attended growing up. And I believe it’s what we are called to do, regardless of what religion or beliefs we each follow. “Above all else, love each other deeply” -1 Peter 4:8 is tattooed on my arm, and has never felt more important or truer than it does now.

My sweet William has propelled me into this next version of myself, which I believe is the best version of myself so far. Even if this version has a piece missing from my heart… until the owner of that piece meets us where we’re going next, I’ll keep trying (and I invite you to keep trying) to let love meet us all here too.