Mason
lived big. He laughed loud, played hard, and loved large. He answered
to the nicknames “motorhome” and then later, “moose.” He rocked a mohawk
and feared very little in this life. He loved his family, his friends,
and making people laugh. He was creatively sneaky, endearingly naughty,
and highly entertaining.
Mason didn’t just smile, he sparkled.
On
one special Friday night in September, we heard Mason’s laughter for
the last time. He woke the next morning with what we thought was the
stomach flu but soon discovered was appendicitis. He had surgery that
evening and I talked with him afterward about the soccer game he missed
that day and he asked me for the Gatorade he didn’t get to drink at half
time.
But... his recovery was not going as smoothly as we hoped.
Within
a few hours, two medical transports and three hospitals later, he was
in septic shock and would never recover. He died at 7:13 am on Sunday,
September 28th, just 24 hours after his first symptoms.
The moment he left this earth, he was welcomed into the presence of Jesus.
And for him, every day since, has been even better than the day before.
watch Mason's parents tell more of his story
