His funeral was today.
He died last Sunday from strangulation.
He went to his room to change his Sunday clothes, became intrigued with swinging from a bathrobe belt tied to the bunk bed and ended up with it around his neck.
He was only eight years old.
He was Nate's age.
He was in Nate's first grade class.
I was a reading mom that year and remember reading with him. His mom worked at the school and sometimes she would walk down the hall while we were reading. He would always tell his mom hi and give her a shy little smile.
Nate would come home from school and tell us how Mrs. Heaton would call Jacob, Mr. McClatchy and Nate thought that was hilarious.
Jacob became Mr. McClatchy in our home and we frequently asked Nate about Mr. McClatchy and what happened at school that day.
It's strange to think he is gone. As a mother I cannot imagine losing a child, especially losing a child so suddenly and in a place you'd think is pretty harmless. My heart aches for his mother. He was the baby of the family with two older brothers on missions and a 15-year-old brother at home. Death can be such an awful thing. How grateful I am for the knowledge I have that death is not the end. Mrs. McClatchy will see her Mr. McClatchy again someday. Oh what a hopeful thing.
