Where Light Enters

“The wound is the place where light enters you.” – Remi

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Today is Lucas's birthday. He would have turned seven years old. It's hard to believe that so much time has passed. The memorial oak tree we planted for him has grown to more than seven feet tall by now.

After we lost Lucas in 2018, people who sought to comfort us often said that time would heal our pain. I didn’t believe them.

The name “Lucas” means light, and without him, I felt that the light in my life had been snuffed out. As C.S. Lewis pointed out that after losing someone you love, "There is an invisible blanket between the world and me.” Nothing seemed interesting or even mattered anymore. I thought I would never laugh again, experience joy, or find beauty in anything. Everything felt dull, and every meal tasted like dirt. The void in my heart was so immense that I wandered through life like a wounded animal. I resented the happiness around me, bitter that the world continued on while I remained trapped in my sorrow. Healing felt like an impossible goal as I struck in my worst nightmare.

Fast forward seven years, and I am laughing again. There have been plenty of moments when I experienced joy, discovered beauty, and food no longer tasted bland. So, were those people right? Have I truly been healed simply because enough time has passed?

Recently, I came across a quote: “Grief is love with nowhere to go.” When I first read this, it struck me like a rock. This sentiment perfectly captured what I felt during the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and even years after losing Lucas. The sharp pain that pierced my heart and soul was my love for Lucas, which had nowhere else to go.

I remember watching a documentary in 2018 about a mother orca who lost her calf shortly after it was born. For 11 days, she pushed her deceased calf's body across the ocean. She didn't stop to take a break or hunt for food because she knew that if she paused, the ocean would claim her baby for good. She couldn't and wouldn't let that happen. Her love for her child was so profound that it needed an outlet. So, she continued to keep the calf's body above water. The physical exhaustion she experienced from this relentless activity served as a temporary distraction from her grief, but it didn't last. After her heroic 11-day effort, she ultimately had to let her baby go and accept the harsh realities of nature. However, she didn’t sink to the ocean's bottom with him; she was surrounded by other orcas, they helped her carry on.

Thanks to my husband Mike, I also didn’t sink to the bottom of the darkness. He has shown me that there are a plethora of new places for our love for Lucas to go.

Mike has led by example. He didn’t take any break from volunteering for the Minds Matter Colorado, an organization focusing on mentoring kids from disadvantaged backgrounds—most of whom are from immigrant families—attend college. This year marks his 17th year of volunteerism. Many of the mentors who started alongside Mike have long moved on, and dozens of kids he has helped over the years have already graduated from college. Some have even returned to the MMCO as the next generation of mentors. Mike's presence is a constant and familiar sight that students of the MMCO can always rely on.

Since 2018, Mike has also quietly supported a local organization called A Precious Child, which provides resources such as food, school supplies, and hygiene products to children in need in the Denver metro area. Mike’s favorite activity is the organization’s back-to-school backpack drive, where donors are encouraged to fill backpacks with grade-appropriate school supplies, ensuring that every child can start their first day of school feeling confident and prepared. Although the drive begins in July each year, Mike starts buying backpacks and school supplies whenever he’s in stores throughout the year. As a result, one of the two cribs in Lucas’s room is often filled with colorful backpacks and supplies, including pencils and notebooks.

Inspired by Mike’s example, I found new ways to channel my love for Lucas. I immersed myself in various activities, from supporting families who have experienced similar losses to advocating for legislation, which I refer to as “grieving through actions.” Some of my efforts have borne fruits, while others have not. Nonetheless, I have no regrets. Ultimately, God will decide what happens next; all I can do is to give my all, holding nothing back.

Additionally, Mike and I have set up multiple scholarships to help students in need. One of these scholarships is for students in the Minds Matter program, supporting them in pursuing their college dreams. We entrust the organization with selecting the scholarship recipients, and each year, we are filled with excitement and anticipation about who will be chosen. At the Minds Matter year-end celebration event, we eagerly await the moment when the graduating seniors share their college plans and the scholarships they have received.

This year’s celebration took place on Monday. We were thrilled to see Esthyr from Denver West awarded the Lucas Raleigh Scholarship. She will attend the University of Southern California this fall and major in cultural anthropology.

Esthyr is the sixth recipient of the Lucas Raleigh Scholarship. Interestingly, all recipients have been girls. Our hearts swell with pride as we cheer for all of them. They’ve become like family to us, and it truly feels like we are sending our kids off to college. Every embrace and congratulations fill our hearts with joy and warmth.

Two years ago, we launched another scholarship at the University of Wyoming. Since I was once an international student myself, I understood the financial challenges that international students often faced. Therefore, our scholarship at UW focuses on supporting talented international students in achieving their academic goals

Reflecting on the past seven years, I’ve realized that time alone has no miraculous healing power. What has truly changed is my perspective. Seven years ago, I was consumed by my pain and felt that my love had no destination. However, as I discovered more avenues for my love to flow, I gradually shifted my focus from what I lacked to what I could do to help others, which in turn has helped me rediscover the fulfillment of living.

As the Persian philosopher Rumi wisely stated, “The wound is the place where light enters you.” Although a Luas-sized void remains in my heart, it is now illuminated with light, just like the boy we named. He has never truly departed from us; his presence continues to surround us. For that, I am filled with gratitude.

Happy birthday, our baby boy, and thank you.

Photo by Morgan Lane on Unsplash