The night before Beckett died I had a dream. My little baby stood up and started walking. Then he was running. He was running so fast I couldn’t catch him.
The next morning on the way to school I told Brooklyn about it and we both laughed at the thought of his tiny body running.
After that night I have told very few people about it. I know a lot of people have dreams of loved ones after they pass. I haven’t. Not one. I’ve held on to a low-key anger, or at least confusion, that my dream was a vision of my future loss instead of a beautiful reminder of who he was.
Tonight I listened to Toby Macs song “21 Years”. He wrote in his grief over the loss of his son. I expected it might be emotional to listen to. I didn’t expect to get rocked to my core. I didn’t expect this phrase to shift my whole perspective of that dream:
“Did he see You from a long way off
Runnin’ to him with a father’s heart?
Did You wrap him up inside Your arms
And let him know that he’s home”
Suddenly my image of my little boy running from me was flipped into an image of him running to the Father’s open and waiting arms.
Beckett was not a “prodigal” son, he wasn’t even 4 months old. But like the son in that story (Luke 15) he was away from his true home. But not anymore.
I hate that I didn’t get more time on this earth with my boy. But I echo the closing lines when I say,
Four months, what a beautiful loan. ❤️
To read more about Brian and Rebekah Wright’s journey of losing their four-month-old son, click here.
