He Will Live On Through My Words

You are never prepared to bury one of your children.

Mr. Kerry and I started out our married lives as most young parents do.  We were determined to show that we were all grown up.  We were both working.  We made the decision to move back to my home state of Ohio.  And, though we had suffered the tragedy of having a miscarriage, it wouldn't be long before a bouncing, baby boy would join us -- weighing in at 10 lb. 6 oz.!  We named him Peter William Lauritzen, taking the middle names of both his father and his paternal grandfather to bestow that honor.

The hospital dubbed him "King of the Nursery".

And, our lives changed forever.  We would also experience three more miscarriages, but have the blessing of welcoming three more children to our family.

Thirty years later, we would bury this son.

And our hearts grieved a loss like no other.

Peter had no spouse and no children.

It would be easy to forget him.  There would be no one to tell stories about having him as a husband, a father, a grandfather.  His life was cut short, and so would be the memories.

However, an article jumped out a me this past year that caused me to really stop and re-think this whole thing over.  I read it twice, and have referred back to it several times since.

It is called, "Loving Those Who Have Gone Before Us".  I invite you to read it here:

https://www.lds.org/ensign/2015/02/young-adults/loving-those-who-have-gone-before-us?lang=eng 

In it, a young man named Jerry is shot down in World War II at the age of 20, leaving no spouse or posterity behind.  He, too, could be easily forgotten.

I have decided that I will do exactly what the author of this article did -- I will leave a paper and document and photo trail that will lead to others getting to know Peter a little better.  A drug overdose took his future, but not his past.

Thanks to https://www.familysearch.org/  there are wonderful opportunities to let the world know of the wonderful young man that Peter was.  Though he didn't have children, he had plenty of nieces and nephews that can learn of him, see his face, and know of his goodness.  The memories that their parents have of their brother will not be the same as what mine -- their grandmother's will be.

It's a bit painful.  But, it must be done.  Every single person who has lived on this earth has a story that deserves to be told. 

They were once a baby.

They had a childhood.

They had a young adulthood.

Some may have dated.

They may have married.

They may have become a parent.

But, no matter what their story is, they are worth remembering.