A Father’s Eulogy for His Sweetest Boy

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Two weeks after we moved into our new home in Upper Arlington, we found out that Kristen was pregnant and that we would be welcoming a second child into our family.

Two months later, while on a trip to Florida, Kristen and I sat anxiously on the beach and opened the results of some early screening tests to learn that we were expecting a baby boy. Our initial reaction was shock—all we had known up until that point was how to raise a little girl. Our extended family up until that point only comprised of nieces. And I, candidly, wasn’t sure if I would be a good “boy dad”—I’m not really into talking about sports, and I feel like I’m pretty good at ponytails, braids, and painting nails.

But all of that changed in an instant when Carter Thomas Jack was born on Tuesday, July 27, 2021 at 10:28pm. His big, beautiful, brown eyes captivated all of the nurses at the hospital, one of whom affectionately referred to him as a “little Pooh bear.”

He entered our home to an adoring big sister, Nora, who was 22 months older; and soon met all of his aunts, uncles, cousins, and doting grandparents—Nana, Papou, Mimi, and Poppy.

Carter truly was a parent’s dream—he started sleeping through the night at 6 weeks old, ate easily and without issue, and found comfort in sucking his left thumb. He hardly fussed, and just wanted to snuggle and be cozy. When deciding on a theme for his first birthday party, we settled on smiley faces because we felt they were so representative of Carter’s personality—he’s always been our smiley boy.

As the years went on, he developed into his own little person with his own characteristics and hobbies. He loved all kinds of trucks and cars, and poured over his books with pictures of construction equipment until he could name dozens of different kinds without prompting. His prized possessions were his “Mimi cars,” a collection of vintage Matchbox cars from his grandma that he carried around in a basket throughout the house and would carefully line up on the bookshelf or in a makeshift garage he built out of blocks. He also was perfectly content sitting on the front porch with a snack in hand so that he could “watch cars” driving down the street.

He was just a sweet boy. Always said “please” and “thank you.” Was becoming more and more independent, and loved to say, “Hey hey hey, Mom—Watch ‘dis!” before showing us his latest trick jumping and twirling on the couch or skipping down the hallway. Would grab your hand and lead you around the house to show you his latest discovery. And was so proud that he just turned two—it was the first thing he told anyone and everyone.

He was kind and loving, too. We used to joke that Daddy gets tackles while Mommy gets hugs—but not a day went by where Carter didn’t receive thousands of kisses on his cheeks. When you looked at him and saw his smile, all you wanted to do was pick him up, hug him, and hold him in your arms. And we received the affection right back. As part of our bedtime routine, we’d exchange “I love you’s” while walking out the door, and more often than not, he’d continue shouting, “I [w]ove you!” “I [w]ove you!” “I [w]ove you!” for several minutes, even after we closed his bedroom door.

Carter’s best friend was his older sister, Nora. Together, they ran through the hallways, danced to classical music, put on performances, built tall towers, climbed on swing sets, sneaked snacks from the pantry, played hide-and-go-seek, and laughed—no one made Carter laugh more than Nora. He adored her in every possible way, and liked everything that she liked—whether that was the color pink, getting nails painted by Daddy, grabbing Mommy’s purse to wear around the house, or putting on Nora’s bracelets and necklaces as soon as she left the house on her first day of preschool because he knew that was his only opportunity. And he would do anything that she asked, including giving her licks of his lollipops and popsicles (even if she already had the exact same flavor).

Carter recently assumed the role of big brother to his younger sister, Lucy—or, as he would say, “[W]ucy” or “[W]ucy Goosey.” He was so gentle with her, often asking to hold her or just be close to her by grabbing her hand. He enjoyed showing Lucy his collection of cars and would read through her books while Kristen nursed her in the rocking chair. While they only shared 3 months together, his interactions with her will forever be imprinted on our hearts.

After Lucy’s birth, I was fortunate to have 10 weeks of parental leave. Carter was by my side the entire time. Nora, Carter, and I would go for walks around the neighborhood, visit the library, eat snacks on the playground, make crafts, go to gymnastics classes, read books on the couch, and do “magic baths” full of colorful bath powders and paints. During this time, he also had a string of ear infections and cut his 2-year molars, so there were many middle-of-the-night calls for Daddy and time spent cuddled in his rocking chair or on the couch watching the “Cars” movie on TV. I wouldn’t trade any of those moments for even a minute more of sleep. He was, and always will be, my little buddy boy.

But at his core, Carter was a mama’s boy. And he hit the jackpot with Kristen. I had a front row seat to witness the special way a mother cares for her child. The hours of feedings. The mental load of juggling appointments and schedules. The playtime. The healing of boo-boos. The careful attention to making everyday moments feel special and extraordinary. The selection of personalized Christmas stockings. Instilling affirmations into our children that they are brave, they are smart, they are kind, they are fun, they are loved, and they are worthy. She does it all, with impeccable grace and selflessness—there is no better example or partner.

On Carter’s last day with us, I woke him in the morning, spent time with him in his room, and got him dressed for the day in one of my favorite shirts and his coziest pants. I told him I was going to work, and he said, “I go to work too, Daddy.” Kristen and the kids enjoyed a lovely morning together followed by a treat of cake pops and lemonade at lunchtime. Nora and Carter played together in his room, bouncing off of furniture and putting on a shadow dance with flashlights. Kristen read “Brown Bear Brown Bear.” They all then sang Carter’s favorite songs—“Bah Bah Black Sheep” and “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”—before Carter went down for his nap surrounded by his favorite loveys—Little Penguin, Big Penguin, Dinosaur, Bah Bah, and Frog. His last moments were perfect, peaceful, and full of joy.

Several weeks ago, Nora and Carter were helping us make dinner. They loved to make crescent rolls, so Kristen filmed them rolling out the dough, flattening it into pancakes, and forming little balls and shapes on the pan. Kristen conducted a little interview of what Nora called, “The Nora and Carter Baking Show” by asking what they were making and how long had they been working on the recipe. Nora claimed that they had been making the crescent rolls for “hundreds of years.” And then Carter, in his sweet little voice, said, “I never, never, never die!”

Carter repeated this phrase several more times in the weeks that followed, always with a smile and a giggle because he knew it made us laugh. In looking back, there’s something sad and devastating, but also beautiful and hopeful in those words. Because while his body may no longer be here physically, Carter’s soul hasn’t died. He lives through Lucy (who already displays his mild-mannered and calm demeanor), through Nora (and her sense of wonder, curiosity, and large, brown eyes), and through Kristen and me (whose vocation is to be parents and to celebrate Carter’s life every day within our family). We hope many of you similarly feel Carter’s presence in your own lives. Please let us know when you do.

More than anything, what has comforted me and Kristen during this unimaginable time is knowing that we loved and cared for the most special little boy—so special that God called for Carter to be wrapped in His arms and fill a place in God’s Kingdom that only Carter could fill. He now hears the sounds of angels instead of the passing wind. He sees everlasting beauty. He knows secrets of Heaven unknown to us on Earth. And he laughs with a special joy that only the innocent possess.

We are humbled that God chose us to be the parents of our sweet boy. We miss him terribly, grieve the loss of a life that had so much yet in store, and want nothing more than to hold him, kiss his cheeks, and hear his tiny voice say, “I [w]ove you.” But we cling dearly and confidently to the promise that we will see Carter again and be reunited in Heaven.