Journal

Tuesday, September 11, 2007 11:00 PM

Unable to Say Goodbye


They have gone away; they were not driven away. They resigned their spirits, they died at the commandment of the Lord. They would have willingly stayed; but they gladly went. They have gone away; but they have gone home; their bodies to their long, but not last, home in the dust; their spirits to a better home in their Father’s house above…The Lord will bring their spirits with Him when He comes from heaven the second time, for the complete salvation of His chosen, and their bodies will come forth out of their graves to meet them, incorruptible, immortal, powerful, glorious, and all death-divided Christians shall meet to part no more. ~

John Brown, Discourses and Sayings of our Lord reprinted in From Grief to Glory.


Dear Carter,

It is September 11, 2007. Tomorrow it will be three years since we held you in our arms. It is the eve of your heavenly journey home. I’m not sure if you know how much we miss you since there is no pain in heaven (I, for one, am really looking forward to that part). I hope you don’t know, for our pain is unbearable.

I have decided it is time to close “Carter’s Corner.” It was a very difficult decision to make, but God let me know it was time. Do you remember when we first started this webpage? Mrs. Sydney set it up for us, knowing it would be a great way for us to communicate to our friends and family about your battle against cancer. Can you believe how it grew from there? Over 800,000 people have come to your site. The maps we have in the basement where we put pushpins in the states and countries where people were praying for you are still there. I think we had a pin in every state except Montana!

I don’t think we will ever know how many lives you have touched. The people that have come here over the past three years have become like family to us. They have provided love, joy, laughter, and comfort during the most horrific time of our lives. We are so thankful for them...

You would be amazed at the Carter Samuel Martin Experimental Therapy Research Fund that was established in your memory. It continues to grow by the day! Dr. Katzenstein is using all of the money that has been raised to find a cure for cancer...he is working very hard on clinical trials so that other children that relapse may have a better chance of survival, maybe even be cured! That was your dream, and we will continue to fight for that as long as we are here on earth.

It is unbelievable to think of the impact your life made (and is still making) at Providence. This year will be the Fourth Annual Carter Martin Classic. Over the past three years it has raised over $200,000!!! This year’s goal is set even higher. The Classic will even have its own website, www.cartemartinclassic.org so that people can donate on-line (and be able to keep up with the many happenings of the Carter Samuel Martin Experimental Therapy Research Fund). The website is still under construction, but will definitely be up and running in a couple of days.

Daddy, Candler, and I packed up your room in May. I think you had about 700 stuffed animals! Although it was very difficult for us, we felt it was the right time. Candler decided to move into your room. We knew you would think that was cool that your big brother wanted your room. The walls are still red (of course it was NEVER Georgia Bulldog red).

Speaking of Candler, he is almost 13 years old now. That means you would almost be 11. He talks about you everyday, and always wants me to tell him stories about when you were both little. We always talk about the time you spilled Nestle Quik powder all over your entire body, and all we could see were the whites of your eyes. As we were laughing hysterically at you, you screamed out, “It’s NOT funny” as you did on many occasions when the joke was on you. We also talk about the time at SanDestin when you fell face first into the soft, white sand (you were covered in suntan lotion and probably a little sweat at the time) and came up looking like a ghost! It didn’t bother you one bit that you had sand in your eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. You went about your business playing ball or whatever it was ya’ll were doing on the beach at the time (always playing to win, of course). That was just you...tougher than nails, thank goodness.

Candler misses you very much. I think he is just starting to understand the depth of his loss. You would be very proud of him. After everything he has been through, he is growing up into a very fine young man. He is very independent, responsible, respectful, and hard working. He loves music, his friends, and is still not too grown up to give mom a kiss goodnight. He isn’t the snuggler that you were, (you know he never was) but we do love hanging out together and I’ll take that! It is hard for him in the afternoons when he doesn’t have any activities (right now he is running Cross Country but has a broken foot), because that is when he feels the most alone and misses you the most. He often will sit in ‘headquarters’ in the basement and do whatever it is ya’ll did together down there...cards, mighty beans, Pokemon. I think he goes there to be alone with his thoughts of you.

Daddy is working harder than ever. You would be so proud of him also. He is still driving ‘your’ Georgia Tech truck around...I’m not sure if he will ever be able to part with it! He aches to have you with him at Georgia Tech games (can you believe they beat Notre Dame?). Candler and I still cheer for Georgia Tech with him, but it makes daddy really, really sad to not have his biggest Yellow Jacket with him. Hunting and fishing, camping, and having ‘daddy days’ without you just isn’t the same for him or for Candler. There is always a part of them missing with you not there, but they have an incredible bond together.

As for your mom, her heart continues to break a little more every day. I long to hold you, to feel the softness of your cheeks against mine, to watch you run with two legs faster than lightening up and down the soccer field smiling in the sunshine, feeling no pain... ‘longing’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. It makes me sad that I will never see you grow up...I will always have the wonder of what should have been, although God never had a ‘should have been’ plan for you.

The other day your friend, Drew, said to his mom, “Do you think life is really death, and death really life...and we just think life is life?” Sounds just like a Drew question, doesn’t it? I think I have to agree with him. We won’t experience real life that you have now until we get to heaven. This ‘life’ down here that is so full of pain and suffering cannot begin to touch the eternal life we will have in heaven. Your daddy and I have been witness to that already when we watched you take your final breath here on earth. Your pain had been unimaginable for 2 weeks....barely controllable with medication...we watched the cancer leave your body when the gigantic smile came across your face and you stepped into the arms of Jesus. No more pain, no more suffering, no more cancer.

So, my sweet baby, we will see you in the light when Daddy, Candler, and I come to meet you in our eternal home. Until then...

I love you to heaven and back and there’s nothing higher than heaven.
Mom

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