Levi's Legacy

Yesterday was hard.  I kept thinking: “But, I made this website. Why is Levi STILL not here?” Did I think that if I worked hard to create this website and to ca rry out this idea, that maybe it would reverse the last 3 weeks? I think in the deepest part of my heart, I did. It is hard to admit this, because it sounds... well, crazy and pathetic. But, in my subconscious, I must have felt like I needed to FIGHT for him. Since his life ended so abruptly, so tragically, I didn’t have the chance to work to save him.  I found him, jumped in, pulled him out. But, then I got out of the way. All 6 of the fathers (including my own husband) were physicians, so I knew to move over. I have never witnessed such desperation. They fought physically, mentally, and emotionally to save him. If Levi could have been saved by skill, effort, and love, he would still be here. But, I didn’t perform CPR, didn’t call 9-1-1, didn’t DO anything to fight FOR him. Carrying out this idea has been m

Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I can’t ever sleep anymore. But, last night was different- I was not reliving his final moments over and over or wondering how I  would ever see M&M’s and not want to burst into tears.  Last night, I was so overwhelmed with gratitude that people are SUPPORTING this idea. You are buying the tags! You are donating! You are sharing! I was in tears when I saw the first orders going through the site yesterday. I couldn’t believe it. You are telling me that you are grandmother who lives on the lake and just bought a tag. You are telling me that you are a mom of small boys or a babysitter or a camp counselor. You are telling me you will wear the tag and you will tell others about Levi.  I want to personally reply to each one of you. If you bought a tag (or several!), or donated or shared, I saw your name. Even in this darkest of all times, I see light in each one of you who is supporting us and reaching out to us and believing in  # levislegacy . Pl

Everywhere I turn, someone- a family member, a close friend, an acquaintance, a stranger- is asking what they can do.  Here is my answer: Tell people, especially caretakers of young children- that drowning happens in seconds. Tell them that drowning happens when kids have access to water (pools, oceans, streams, ponds) EVEN IF THEY ARE NOT SWIMMING. Tell them that there is no alternative to supervision when it comes to water safety. Tell them to designate a “Water Guardian.” Tell them about Levi. www.levislegacy.com 

I hate the universe.  I am questioning every single part of faith and goodness and purpose. How can there be a plan where a cherished 3 year old is snatched from his family? How can a life end in an instant? Why would this baby be ripped from our family, leaving an emptiness that can never be filled? How can I ever love, again, when I now know that tragedy may always be lurking right around the corner?  I miss him. I miss his FUTURE: taking him to the first day of Pre3 this year, choosing a Halloween costume, learning to ride a bike.  I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t want to do laundry or get milk for Reese. I don’t want to make a waffle for Lily. I don’t want to go to Target to buy paper towels. But, I do, because every second is a choice. There are moments I have to actually say out loud: “I am choosing to open the dishwasher right now.” Choosing to get up. Choosing to breathe. Choosing to live purposefully in the midst of tragedy.  If crying in

Grief. Here is how grief looks in my day, how it ebbs and flows and pierces and punches.  Waking up is painful. Thankfully, I dream of Levi- he is always in my subconscious, so when I wake up, I’m not startled that he isn’t here. But, the mornings are always difficult, because each day is one away from when I last saw him, carried him, ran my fingers through his hair and commented “how do you need a haircut, AGAIN, buddy?” The day promises (threatens?) to bring new adventures that he will never know. Mornings are hard.  Most of the day is spent, well, living. We have been blessed beyond measure to have so much family support and time with them. We did “normal” vacation things last week, like go out to eat and wash sand off of our feet, but they felt anything but normal. And, there has still been laundry and my girls fighting and one of them is always hungry. So, days are filled mostly with... just... life. But, the entire time, I’m hearing his commentary in my head

Last Labor Day weekend, the kids and I stayed in Chattanooga for a night. They were thrilled about: the indoor pool, going to the grocery store to get ice cream pints to keep in our tiny mini freezer in the room, watching actual cable (not just Netflix), riding this luggage cart down the hallway to the pool. I didn’t even let Levi in the hallway without thinking ahead about water safety. Water safety was not something I ever took lightly. Did you know, though, that 69% of dro wning victims weren’t expected to be in the water (non swimming situations), yet were found in water? Did you know that 77% of victims were out of sight for five minutes or less? Did you know that nearly 80% of drowning victims are male? I didn’t know, and I hate that I had to learn this the hard way, the worst way possible. I’m so angry at the Universe. How have I read hundreds and hundreds of parenting magazines, books, and blogs and NEVER ONCE was I warned about drowning when not swimming. Drowning

I’ve always loved words. Even Dumbledore told us that words are our most inexhaustible source of magic. It makes sense that in this darkest, most unimaginable time in my life, I’m finding comfort in words. If you have reached out to me, in a message or comment, or through a friend or family member, please know that I find comfort in your words. People are so afraid, that they won’t know what to say. But, here is what I have learned: nothing is wrong when it comes from a genuine place of the heart. If you are even slightly afraid of saying the wrong thing, then you haven’t. Give me all of the words. Say Levi’s name. I promise nothing is going to make me more sad than I already am. Don’t second guess your words to me.  As my friends all know, documenting is also vital to my life, particularly remembering and reflecting and celebrating life through WORDS. Each of my three babies has a notebook with notes and letters written to them. I have Levi’s book- recorded snippets and

Last night, we watched fireworks from the back deck of a restaurant. Reese wasn’t expecting them, and when she heard them exploding, she ran over, mesmerized. As the first ones lit up the sky, she said, matter-of-factly and even excitedly: “Those are from Levi! He is sending those to us right now!” I felt it was fitting, because of course he would be sending us something loud and potentially dangerous.  💥  I am on guard constantly around the girls, ready to respond if they ment ion his name. But, then I panic, wanting to immediately react, to reassure them, to validate their thoughts. I am learning (add this to the ever growing list of things I never, ever wanted to learn) to give them space- to just stand and while they try to articulate what their confused little hearts are trying to say.  Reese stood, delighted by each one. She was truly soaking up this gift from her baby brother. Her precious voice (she has the sweetest voice, most gentle little spirit)

Two years ago, when Reese turned 3, we took the girls to Build-a-Bear in Destin. We promised we would go, again, the summer when Levi was 3. We have been talking about this trip to Build-a-Bear for weeks, and we were excited to let Levi get to make one. We knew he would choose a Paw Patrol character. Lily was going to help him stuff it, and Reese was going to show him how to make a wish on the heart. I mean, the reality is that he would have carried it around for ten minutes  and then promptly forgotten about it, but Build-a-Bear is really about the experience, so we just had to let him create this memory. Plus, the girls loved each time he was old enough for a new milestone. Lily was his real Mom, and Reese thrived anytime she got to play the role of wise big sister.  Today was the day, and I was sad. I wasn’t bawling (not even crying) or overwhelmed with grief; I was just simply sad. There were moments of happiness- watching Reese pick up each animal and really deb

We had a family trip to Destin planned for this week. After we lost Levi, after the world stopped spinning, we decided to still come.  There are 2 reasons why we came; their names are Lily and Reese. In the earliest hours of Monday morning, after the tragedy, my husband and I were standing in the ICU waiting room of the Mobile Children’s Hospital. My hair was still in a wet ponytail from jumping in the water. We knew we had lost Levi. My husband told me: “We are STILL a family.” We have two girls. They need us. Losing Levi will forever be the defining part of our lives. But, we can’t let them lose us, too. He set the tone from that moment. We are broken, and I am physically aching to have Levi back. But, we are choosing to live purposefully for the girls in the midst of this great tragedy.  Going to the beach this week seemed IMPOSSIBLE. But, here is what also seems impossible: every second of the rest of my life. I asked Amanda: “Do you really want to go to the beach with your

Tonight was the visitation for our bouncy boy. We love a theme in our family, so, of course we already owned Levi’s shirts. We didn’t even discuss what we would wear- we just both knew we wanted to wear these shirts that so proudly proclaimed “Levi’s.” Yes, we belong to him. We are his, and he is ours.  In the midst of this ultimate tragedy, we feel grief and anger and sadness and confusion encompassing our every thought. Yet, there is so much beauty hiding in this pain:  Our  friends who stocked our fridge, folded our laundry, and even checked to make sure my husband’s suit was clean- all before we even arrived home. My family, who has held us, shielded us, helped us plan a funeral. The countless people who have shared Levi’s story and sent us heartfelt messages.  Tonight was the most painful, beautiful night of my life: family, middle school friends, high school friends, and college friends who drove across states to visit us. Members of our community, strangers, coming

On my TimeHop today- one year, two years, three years ago. Same beach, same friends, same adored baby brother. VIDEO of Levi and his sisters.

One week ago, we were loading the car to head to our annual “Friend Beach Trip,” a week we look forward to all year. I still can’t bring myself to put in words about these friends, this trip, this collective tragedy we now all share. One week ago: packing. Today: finishing writing my 3 year old son’s eulogy. I always have a ponytail holder around my wrist. My girls, especially Lily, have picked up this habit, and we are a trio of ponytail-holder-bracelet-wearers. On Sunday, L evi jumped out of the pool (in his puddle jumper- drowning doesn’t usually happen when swimming) and ran over to me. He grabbed my pink and red ponytail holders off of my wrist and slid them over his own hand, his chubby little hand I had held so often. He was so proud of his new bracelets. He giggled and tried to dart off, but he was so excited, so proud, so giggly about finally having his own ponytail holders that I made him stop and let me take this quick boomerang. Hours (seconds? days? Time passes so di

There is a misconception that drowning only happens when you are swimming. Drowning happens when you are 200 feet away, upstairs, eating Cheetos and a brownie for dinner, when you are preparing to go crab-hunting, when you are already wearing your crab-hunting shirt. When you slip away from the huge group, when you leave your mom’s side, even though you are usually Velcro-ed to her. Drowning isn’t splashing and yelling. It takes SECONDS. Watch the pools, the ocean, the ponds, the streams. Levi, we love you, we love you. Thank you for the 3 years of getting to be your mommy. http://www.akardfuneralhome.com/obituaries/Levi-Hughes/#!/Obituary 

Arrangements for our beautiful son: Visitation: Friday (June 15), 5-8pm, Akard Funeral Home. Service: Saturday (June 16), 10am, St. Anne Catholic Church. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in Levi’s name to St. Anne School, Bristol, VA.  ( https://www.stanneschoolbristol.org ).  We are shattered, broken, aching for this boy. Thank you for your outpouring of love. We hear you and we feel you.

The last 3 days have a been a blur. They have passed so quickly, and each minute I feel frantic, knowing that it’s one more minute away from when I last saw Levi. They have passed in an eternity, a non-stop reel of seeing him, in his bright yellow shirt, lying at the bottom of the pool.  One day, when I’m ready to do it justice, I will share the story of his last hours, of our friends, these spec ial people God put into our lives years ago, of how many beach trips we have taken together, of how many laughs and shared memories we have. They tried so desperately to save him, and I will never forget the mercy of their love and heartache surrounding us as we faced this ultimate tragedy. For today, we are grateful, in the midst of the greatest despair, for so much love and support. Our families have physically surrounded us, laughing with us about funny Levi stories and holding us as the laughs quickly turn to sobs. They have fed us, given us space, showed up, spoiled our girls. We woul

Click Here:  Last Video taken of Levi These are the final pictures I have of my son. In every single one, he is wearing a puddle jumper or life jacket. Just hours before the tragedy, I was carrying him (“Mama, carry me, please! The sand is hot- it’s not hot for you, though, is it Mama?”) We walked past the pools, in a house where we have vacationed every June for 7 years. I asked him, again, for the hundredth time, at least: “Levi, do you ever get in the water without Mama? Ever?” He said immediately and seriousl y, as we have discussed numerous times: “Mama, no way. Then, you won’t get to see me again and we will be so sad.” It was so quick. The news keeps saying we were eating dinner, like I was just sitting, completely forgetting I had kids. It wasn’t even like that at all. It was so quick. How did he even get away from us? I had just given him half of a brownie into his bowl of Cheeto puffs. The other half of the brownie was still in my mouth wh