I know I blog about Josh a lot. I guess that is because I so strongly identify with what his family is going through.
I lost my mom to an aggressive brain tumor several years ago, but I remember the whole process from diagnosis to the end most vividly.

Sunday was Mother's Day. Josh's mom (our pastor's wife) gave the message during service. Josh was having some difficulty breathing. After the service I went to speak to Josh, like I always do. When I looked into his eyes, I saw my mother.
That night Joshua had a dream that he was healed; up and walking. He also told his daddy he wanted to be healed.

I told my husband on Monday that Josh looked just like my mom did at the end. I was very afraid we were running out of time. Yesterday evening, they had to airlift him to Egleston Hospital in Atlanta.

Today they did the MRI to check the tumor growth. The news was not good. The doctors have stopped his experimental treatment and they are weaning him off the breathing tube.
Now would be a very good time for a miracle. Otherwise, it looks like my visit with Joshua on Sunday will be the last time I get to look into his eyes, kiss his cheek and let him know just how much he means to me and my family. The doctors say it is a matter of just a few days, max.

The sadness is overwhelming. The loss of such a sweet, beautiful and vibrant child is devastating me. But at the same time, there is a feeling of relief that once his soul leaves this mortal plain, his suffering will be over. And every time I see a goose fly over my house, see a deer in my pasture or hear the splash of a fishing lure hit the water, I'll recall how much Josh loved those things. And this is how I will choose to remember him.
In his athletic shorts and Georgia boots wearing his baseball team's t-shirt and grinning from ear to ear.