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 THE LOST PHOTO
MAY 1st 2007
About two months after Christopher's death, Julie, his girlfriend sent me the email that contained what we call the "Flying at Twilight" photo. It has become the symbol of my son's fearlessness and free spirit. Last week as I was cleaning out my voluminous email box I came across Julie's email and I wondered why it was so large and took so long to open. When it finally opened I realized this was the email that she had sent me that included ALL the photos Nathanial Larue had taken at the skatepark in Manhattan.
It was only then that I realized I had overlooked this photo above because the picture was taken in such a large format ( as were most from that series) and it was the last pic she attached and consequently the last to load. It was a small gift to find and made me so happy when I really took time to look closely at the picture in its original size which is much larger than an 8 x 11. It shows him so beautifully and the detail is remarkable. My eyes were drawn repeatedly to his shoes- the pink laces he was famous for- the bare ankle, the sweaty Adio cap I wrote about recently and of course the look of effort and focus on his handsome face.
It's the first time on months I have been able to recall his physicality and remember how strong he had become. I miss him so much, the feelings the photo draws from me, the memories it fuels, the pain at not having him here-all of it makes me so sad. But the gift of those photos makes me wonder.
By Death Cab For Cutie
This song is from Death Cab's new cd. I was listening the other day and realized as is my penchant, to associate this song to Christopher. Take time and listen, please.
6-11-08
It’s no surprise to anyone who has read my postings that I should tell you how much I am missing my son tonight. I pass his picture every time I walk down the small hallway to our bedroom. Kay has stationed an oval glass table against the short wall that divides the laundry room and the hallway leading to the master bedroom.
His photo sits as a sentinel; a beaming, smiling face, along side the equally bright face of Jules, his girlfriend. The photo was taken as I recall her recounting, in front of Haymaker Hall, his dorm building during that short four months at K State. How happy they appear to be. I don’t know.
It’s been so long since I have seen him. I called his phone tonight to remind myself of his voice. So strong, so happy, so full of life and now just another reminder of a past that never seems to get smaller in the rear view mirror of this life.
My family, what is left, is gone. Europe. A long sojourn to Greece, Italy and I don’t know where else. We hold down the fort awaiting provisions. And in this life, provisions are minimal- there just is not much left for anyone to provide, the supply line long since depleted. Still we will endure. We have no other choice. It will be what it is.
“God created Arrakis to train the faithful.” * He continues to bend me to his will.
* the movie Dune
I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race. I have kept the faith
(2 Timothy 4:7).
I found this quote in the paper yesterday and it was used in a memorial ad similar to what we do when Chris’ anniversary date comes around. It was used to commemorate someone’s daughter, who died a few years ago and was about the same age as Chris.
It struck a nerve in me and as I re read the quote I was thinking of how this could easily apply to Christopher. It is so fitting. You can break it down and examine it and ascribe it to so many facets of his wonderful life. You can apply it to him in so many ways- all of them fitting. But to me I am reminded that he did fight the good fight- he lived his life fully with a good heart and kindness to all- fighting many times against those that were prejudiced and callous and inconsiderate of those less fortunate.
He finished the race and although many that are mean spirited and cynical could easily shake their heads and say, “Yeah he sure did, and he got himself killed.” They would be wrong and cruel and mostly uninformed about his death. He did finish the race of life. He did all he could and more than most will do in a 100 years of living. He gave too so many and left it all out on the table. He impacted more lives than we will ever know and still does.
And he kept the faith. He believed in his friends and family. He believed in love and compassion. He believed in God and he lived an honorable life.
He leaves an untarnished legacy of a life well lived.
 
Sunday May, 4th 2008
My sister in law, Joy, whose own son, Billy died in a car accident many years ago sent us this beautiful stained glass memorial yard ornament for the Christopher Tree. Preceding this wonderful, thoughtful gift was a card which she has continued to send on a regular basis since we lost Christopher. She understands as no one else can, the loss and pain we have and continue to endure. Her compassion has many times brought shame to me that during her time of tragedy, I was as many are during these life events- thoughtless and inconsiderate of another’s pain.
That is not an indictment on anyone in particular. It is just the way we as humans are when tragedy befalls someone else. We notice, maybe, pause and shake our heads at their loss, and then we move on to all the myriad details that fills our lives daily. It’s just the way things happen. And so at her time of need and loss, I was one of those people. And for that I am truly ashamed and sorrowful.
But she remembers us and Christopher. Her words of encouragement and faith have helped both Kay and I get through many hard days. Her cards always speak to some idea of healing and the strength to continue the fight. She always says just the right thing because she knows intimately the struggles a bereaved parent goes through. I wonder many times when Billy died, whether she had a ‘Joy’ to help her during those difficult years. My brother was there to be sure and he too understands how we live because he lived the same life, though Billy was not his own blood.
I keep her in my prayers and her compassion and thoughtfulness have helped me innumerable time during the last three plus years. I hope she knows how much I appreciate her. I wish I could repay her. When she leaves this place, this earth, I will not mourn her passing. I will in many regards envy her. She will be where she wants to be at last, with Billy. She will have endured all the long years we have yet to pass. She will have finished this horrible marathon of grief and loss successfully. She will have crossed the finish line our children passed before us and before their time. The one we as their parents ponder in the dark of the night and in the depths of our fears as we lay trying to imagine what they felt, saw and experienced as they left us and this life.
April 11th 2008
Christopher’s birthday left us more bruised and battered than I could have possibly imagined. At first it seemed as though for the first time since he died, we would weather the emotional storm with a sturdier rudder, with a better compass and sense of more self assuredness. Maybe that assumption was based solely on my perspective born from my feelings in the week previous. But nothing gave tale of the eventual outcome or aftermath of which even tonight, the shockwaves are firmly resounding. Once again we have ventured into deeper, darker waters.
I don’t know. I seldom do. The way we live, the things we feel, all change from day to day and in most cases those changes are imperceptible at the time; there is little in the way of clues to foretell the impending storm. The squall is suddenly upon you and you find yourself reeling, struggling to correct your course-steady yourself.
It is true the day was long but it was not unpleasant but the morning began slightly off kilter and maybe that set the tone for the day ,but in retrospect, those small ripples seemed at the time, inconsequential. But as the day wore on it became clear that many were hurting at the day, many were remembering him, his life and all he gave to us. I think more so than at any recent time, we were confronted again in a most brutal fashion, the enormity of our loss.
And those events sparked reflection and brought again the reality of our lives and surely that became the ignition point for what was to follow- a slow smoldering burn of heart and memory, a flash point of familiar pain and heartache of which tonight still, we have yet to extinguish.
She hurts tonight like at no recent time. The drain of time and emotion has taken its toll. It has surprised me. It is part exhaustion, part painful memories, and part loss of the future- of which we have none where he is concerned. And the major benchmarks of which there are several in a calendar year, each exact their toll, demand their payment, demand their part of you be paid in full- until the next time.
And pay she has. There is no more to give-not tonight. With hope and God’s help, the morning will be better.
I feel compelled for unknown reasons to thank a handful of my friends; people who have stuck with me over these last three years, friends so dear and close-friends that knew my son, some better than others but all of these people understand in a way that is remarkable and mysterious, the love we held for our son. I think in some ways, God has held them close by to help me at certain times. And if I have never said it to them personally, I tell them now, thank you for helping, thank you for recognizing the amazing, special person Christopher was. And thank you for being HIS friend.
John Musgrave, without him I may have truly lost my way. He has brought clarity and objective, thoughtful advice- Truly my best friend and partner.
Cody Hines, as a few know, he was the keeper of the R. He has always been there for me, and has done countless favors and kindnesses. I can never repay him.
Tung Dihn, he has helped John and me with the skills and knowledge we did not have to implement and complete the Phoenix project.
Bob Porto, he knows how badly we hurt and he has never forgotten and that is more valuable to my family than anyone can imagine.
Musings 3-29-08
I was thinking the other day that finally we were on the eve of what I had hoped for all these long three years; the end of college for all of Chris’ schoolmates and friends. Some how I had deluded myself into believing that their graduation and consequent move into adulthood would ameliorate the pain of his death and of all the things we as a family have been robbed of; seeing Christopher graduate and travel abroad, watching him grow into an even better young man with a degree and the four years of college life experiences under his belt, enjoying on a more adult level our vacations and trips together, all the things all of those reading have enjoyed during the three and a half years he has been gone.
He and I talked of traveling to the Sea of Cortez to SCUBA. I had done a lot of research on diving the sea mounts that rise silently like ocean monoliths, drawing enormous schools of shark and other pelagic fishes. It was surely going to be our most challenging diving and secretly I wondered if I had the strength and endurance to make the dives. I had no doubt of his abilities. But we both knew we had to challenge ourselves and make the trip.
He began to seriously think of moving to Mexico for a summer or two to work at a dive operation and to live among the locals. Our last trip to Cancun had somehow triggered all the possibilities that lay before him on the eve of the beginning of his college career. We talked of many opportunities abroad to sightsee, backpack and semesters of school somewhere in Europe. That last wonderful summer held so many bright days to come for all of us.
He was becoming such a great skateboarder and I believed in my heart that this would be the activity he would excel at and I truly believed he might at some point even become good enough to turn pro. It had become a passion for him and he was so determined to get better every time he stood on that weathered board. I was so proud of him for sticking with it.
This is also the summer the Phoenix will rise. John and I have been working quietly for the last two years and all the painful work is now behind us with only minor cosmetics needed to complete this arduous, project. John has been my closet confidant during this time and he more than anyone else I know, understands how I feel. I was instructed to do this. It will serve a purpose I have been allowed to see and understand. Of that I am regretably certain.
Josie has been accepted into the Kansas City Art Institute and earned a merit scholarship and we are so proud of her and her clearly God given talents. I have felt in my heart for a very long time that she is destined to do great things. Christopher saved her, we know that. It is so hard to explain what she has been through the last three plus years; physically debilitated with devastating injuries that she miraculously recovered from and then to have to limp into her freshman year of high school with the specter of her brothers death her constant companion, saying nothing of all the emotional trauma and mental anguish. How she survived and grew during these long months and years is almost incomprehensible.
But survived and grew she did especially artistically. I think it was her salvation. She will be a remarkable artist and I know she will with her work, reach out in some special way for some as yet unseen reason and purpose. And in the process, her art will help heal her and allow her to begin to see the happy, fulfilling life that awaits her discovery. It will not be easy and it will not come quickly- it will take time and as we do now, she will stumble but she has the strength of character, of Christopher’s, that will allow her to endure.
And now as we approach April 10th, his 22nd birthday, all those things seem so far away- almost lost amid the flood of emotions this time of year is conjuring up. And I still tell myself that once we get beyond this time, once we attend all the painful graduations and events surrounding May, that I will at last find the elusive phantom of peace and finally find a way to learn to live with his death.
3-12-08
Today the last of our small pets passed- Josie’s 3rd rat. Like the other two, he succumbed to a rat’s version of old age- ‘accelerated decrepitude’ as Pris would say *. As in that famous movie and all the others that Chris and I watched and loved, the lines I have committed to memory from years of re watching spring immediately to mind as I take him gently from his cage and prepare yet another small cardboard coffin for burial.
The yard is now becoming littered with them, especially these last few months; Red Cheeks, Sammy and now ‘The Rat’ and each time your heart breaks just a little; less so I would admit to this recent passing, but that Josie will hurt when she gets home is the pain that burns the deepest. Again in the space of but a few months she will say goodbye to a pet she loved. To have pets’ means to know the heartache of death is inevitable but that it should be visited on one already so hurt and so frequently, is a pain I would love to wish away. We have all had our share since this New Year began.
Today I am finishing up a project I started a few weeks back; cleaning and sorting all the assorted furniture, lamps and boxes of whatever that is stored in the back storage room of the basement. Initially started as a search for some boxes I had saved to repackage all my stereo equipment in, it morphed into a “lets go through all that stuff down there and get rid of what ever we don’t need” -one of those kinds of projects. And so it began.
And now that I am almost finished I have made room for the bird cages of Red Cheeks and Sammy and now with the death of the Rat, that cage too. And a familiar feeling I am accustomed to: melancholy, overcomes me as I carry Red Cheeks’ home of many years down the stairs to its final resting place.
I can’t help but think of his familiar screech and squeal, his nibbling on my nose or ear, grooming me as he might an avian friend and his cheerful whistling, filling the house. No we have had too much death and his loss was the bitterest of the three, filling us with the sickening dread and anxiety we have come to know these three years past.
But we will ‘buck up’, dust off and begin again as we always do. There is no way else to do it-this life. In time those cherished pets will be but a loving light pain and wonderful memory in our minds and hearts. We will make room for another and Josie will find a way to deal with it. I cannot save her from this pain anymore than I can save her the pain of her brother’s death. And that death is one none of us have been victorious over.
* character in the movie Blade Runner
Feb. 06, 2008
We just got back from Orlando where we took a few days off as Kay was there on business and it seemed a good time to get away. It has been a long winter. We had taken the kids there years ago when they were small- did the whole Disney World thing. Caranne was so small she doesn’t really remember much about it. We have to venture out to get to know each other as we are now, not as we were then- with Chris. We know these new family outings are necessary for all of us. They do help us learn to live this life and we cherish more than ever, our time with Josie. She wanted to visit some of the amusement parks for of all things- roller coasters!
We miss the boy on so many levels but this one is my personal selfish fear. He was always willing and ready to jump on anything thrilling and heart stopping and as long as he was around, my fear of roller coasters never was an issue. I could always pass off my refusal to get on one as “fatherly sacrifice”. But now, I have no excuse and I have no where to hide. The truth is known. I would have to face my fears. The time was here.
The first day was good because Josie and I were by ourselves until Kay finished her work and so we headed to Sea World. Caranne wasn’t all that excited about going until she realized (and I didn’t) that there was a killer roller coaster there, The Kraken, Orlando’s tallest, fastest, floorless coaster! There would be no escaping this. Somehow I had to find the courage and more importantly, couldn’t deny Josie. I had to fill in for her brother. I had to take his place and I didn’t want to fail him nor her.
We wandered the park for some time, stopping to visit the different sea life displays; the shark exhibit, baby dolphins and other interesting displays. When we came to the ride and she realized how great it looked I knew now I would have to step up. Without hesitation in my voice I said “Lets go”! For a brief moment, I could see surprise in here eyes at my suggestion. She knows her fathers weakness and I know she never thought I would get on the thing with her. The look on her face though, one of happiness was all I needed to commit mentally.
We had arrived at a good time and the wait was not too long. The line serpentined through the narrow pathways that guide you to the ride. As we reached the ramp I asked Christopher for the courage to enjoy the experience and to not fear it. I wanted to make sure Caranne had fun and I couldn’t be an impediment to her happiness. I had to make sure this moment would be as good as it could be for her. She has lost so much and the thought of her losing even a small thing is too much.
As we strapped in I was surprised that I had little anxiety. I checked myself mentally, searching for my expected fear and found none. The noises, the laughter of so many, the smile of anticipation on Josie’s beautiful face, all melded into one huge din in my ears- my vision focused on the long high track ahead.
As the ride began and eye sight of the track became a view of blue sky, I promised myself I would do this with eyes wide open. I had to feel and see it all as Chris would have; fearing nothing and anticipating everything. I realized I also couldn’t deny myself the chance to enjoy it- to be happy for a few minutes. I needed it too.
As the coaster neared its apex and we leveled off momentarily to see the treacherous, winding track of steel below us, I found myself looking forward to the first plunge and I glanced over at Josie and saw her beaming with wide open eyes. The first drop was more a slight gradual sloping hill but quickly and violently dropped with ferocious speed.
Everyone was screaming and I tried to gather in as rapidly as my eyes would allow the quickly unfolding trip and the hairpin turns and twists; suddenly inverted, looking upside down and before we could recover, a rapid, violent corkscrew, again inverted and then instantly right side up.
Midway along the ride, Christopher came to me. As we neared a high point with a deep plunge just micro seconds away, tears began to flow and streamed past my cheeks and flew away in the breeze. I was filled with his presence and as we dropped into the valley, it was as if I was seeing the ride with his eyes. He was with us! As we dropped, I cried but I was not sad. I was so filled with Christopher’s spirit. The elation and happiness that completely permeated me was his! He was experiencing our ride and we were sharing this shaking reality with him. We were all together again.
As the ride ended and we suddenly came to an abrupt, violent deceleration, I looked over at Caranne and saw her grinning and smiling. I was still wiping tears away as we slowly rolled to a stop and talked about what we had just experienced. Whether she realized I was crying I don’t know but I do know for a time I was as happy as I have been since we lost him. And knowing he had just been there made it all the more enjoyable. It is the first time in many months that he has been able to cross over and the reality of his presence filled my heart with my love of him.
For the rest of our day together, we enjoyed each others company. It had been so long since the two of us had spent that much time interacting. As I had always done with Chris, we talked of all things; movies, people, life- all of it. We walked all day, looked at all the sea life and again we waited in line and rode the Kraken. There was no fear, no anxiety; only happiness and finally, a little peace of mind. Once again, my son cared of us, watched over us- made us happy again. We will have to learn to embrace and hang on tight to the gifts we are allowed.
THE KRAKEN, SEAWORLD ORLANDO
A STORY
In the last few years of Christopher and I SCUBA diving together, the weather in Mexico had become more unpredictable and the water had become increasingly colder. This was due to several factors- the main one being El Nino`. Changes in global warming and all the associated effects made the diving around Cancun tougher. The relatively shallow reefs that ring the island increased the effects of the wave action and the tightly bunched reefs gave wicked highway to the sometimes ferocious late winter currents. We had also started to take our summer vacations a little earlier than in past years and all those combined resulted in cold, heavy current laden exercises.
In the later parts of May, the remnants of winter sometimes hung on longer and we would get sporadic rain squalls and always high seas, even on the leeward sides of the island. This of course made the diving more challenging. He did not mind the rough seas and the sometimes knot and a half currents. He had become such an experienced diver and his physical strength and endurance was more than equal to the elements presented. And of course, his mental toughness was almost legendary among those that knew him well.
It had become a challenge for me to keep up with him. He had no fear and had no doubt of his abilities. Always the cautious one, I know at times I held him back- for his own safety I told myself. He had grown to believe I could always do what he did; and for a time that was true. But in the last year of his life I was struggling to keep pace. I told myself on more than one occasion that it was “just my sporadic asthma”, or “maybe I drank too many Pina` Coladas by the pool the day before.” It was always something in my mind but I knew instinctively in the back of my mind that I had grown tired and as is with all things; time was taking its toll.
The early morning boat rides out to the reefs were our happiest times as Chris and I would sit together and watch the people along the shores going through their daily routines; the local Mexican kids would spends mornings and afternoons jumping into the channels that wound their way through the mangrove lagoon that our dive boat traversed daily to take us to open water and the reefs beyond. Families would sit on the many park benches that seemed to line the shore forever, picnicking, playing with their children or lounging in the shade of the Mexican summer.
Trumpet fish and stingrays would dart near and away from the slowly moving boat as its wake pushed aside eel grass and various strains of gracilaria. Small shoals of fingerlings and native mangrove dwellers skittered away as we passed over the dark, murky waters of the lagoon. And as all those events transpired, Chris and I leaned against the railing of the boat, watching and commenting.
We talked along the way out about nothing in particular, jumping from subject to subject as was Christopher’s usual way, his mind racing with endless thoughts and dreams and observations on every subject under the hot bright sun. His laughter rings in my ears, his voice strong and deep, and his demeanor cheerful and lively. His ever trusty baseball cap turned around backwards, pulled tightly over his brow as the wind and salt spray peppered us each time the boat descended into another large wave. After a time, the shoreline would appear as a dark smudge across the top of the horizon of the endless sea as we made our way to our first dive of the day.
And so we braved the windy cold seas those precious last summers, happy and content-both anticipating the days dive.
To be continued………..
New Years Day, 2008
Dearest Christopher,
Here we go again; the beginning of another year without you. It has been so cold, the snow and ice refuse to melt and I long for the warm days of summer. As in the previous three years, I begin here with you at Newcomer’s. It has become my ritual to begin the long upcoming year sitting in the quiet, writing to you and contemplating our lives. The trickle of the water in the reflecting pool gently fills this room, the quiet drone of the heater above in the ceiling and with any luck, no other visitors while I am here.
Your mausoleum is decorated with poinsettias from your Aunt Linda and her family and from our friends the Restivo’s. Someone left you pink roses a few weeks ago on your anniversary and we kept them alive as best we could. Your mom made another beautiful bouquet of flowers this week for the stand and as in past years, the surrounding area is decorated with festive Christmas decorations.
I had taken notice a few weeks ago that several other families had begun leaving small memorial books for visitors and family to leave remembrances in. Although I cannot say for sure, I believe they took their cue from the book we have here for you. Many have taken your business cards this past month and the traffic on your website shows a lot of people have stopped to take a look. That makes me feel good and it is why I started the site. We cannot let you be forgotten and I have to make sure you are always remembered and thought of. I know I don’t really have any control over that but the effort I believe produces results.
It has been a long holiday season and although I don’t look forward to the New Year, I will certainly be glad when this final holiday is behind us and we can look forward to a few months of clear sailing. We need the break so badly. This holiday season more than the others has taken its emotional toll on us and we never seemed to get much of a break to catch our breath. Though some was self imposed, much was the result of the time of year and all the memories we are bombarded with. The stream has been endless. Even the simplest of activities can spawn a vivid, sometimes painful memory as in the cleaning of the kitchen cabinets this week while your mother was on vacation.
She found a plate you had lovingly decorated in the fourth grade for Mother’s day. On it a rainbow and trees, two bright red hearts, all in bright bold colors, your writing thick and sure, “ With Love, Chris”- another treasure left behind and temporarily lost until that afternoon; its finding and contemplation both heartwarming and deflating. And in finding it we were reminded again of how many of these unearthed treasures remain behind; part of your legacy, part of your too short life. In the course of the time we have left without you, we will have to gather the courage to begin in earnest, the quest to find and catalog and safe keep for your posterity and ours, all the wonderful bits and pieces. Like a silent, revered sanctuary, your closet stands full and waiting- a task so large and heartbreaking we know we are nowhere strong enough to excavate.
But we did make progress during this time. We cleaned and we organized and we one by one, checked off our list all the “to do’” that had been waiting. There is still much left but if we can dedicate ourselves and gather the energy necessary, we can stay ahead and do those small chores that have mounted up these last three years.
Your close friends have checked in over this time. Nick and Jules have been by and Nathan has called. All seem to be doing much better. Julie is working too hard with a furious intensity as is Nick, both trying to finish school on time and begin what ever life awaits them. None have forgotten and at times I am sure the pain of their loss of you glows hot but they are working so hard to carry on.
As we suck in our breath and ready ourselves for this year, the list of things to accomplish is large and it will take all we have to do them. On top of those things is the looming finish of high school for your sister. We are on the final stretch of her school year and the anticipation of the beginning of her college days is not something we look forward to eagerly. Though we know we must set her free to find her way, we are selfish and scared. We have tried this once before with disastrous results we are not anxious to repeat. But that too will come to pass and we will have to find a way to endure and move ahead. And after that, who knows?
Oh Christopher, didn’t you know we needed you?
Dec.29th 2007
As the cold of December continues and we wind our way to the end of other year, thoughts of my son fill me. These cold days have brought back again, those early painful days after we lost Christopher. Although not as intense as the previous post traumatic episodes that have come and gone with furious intensity, these waves of grief nudged against me in a softer fashion but still brought about the feelings of dread and anxiety as before.
Visions of him standing in the kitchen that evening as he and Caranne readied themselves for the movie, the first event in what was to be a long, happy Christmas holiday. Little did we know a few hours later we would be shattered and brought to our knees- our happy lives forever changed.
Now three years later we sit and wonder what might have been. We busy ourselves with house work, the minutia and maintenance, the boredom of life filling our hours. We have lost so much; so many things that made these now long days seem too short. It is hard to imagine how much Christopher fulfilled us, made our lives so bright and satisfying. And I wonder in my darker hours if we truly understood and appreciated him. You think you do at the time, but when this happens and your life turns so drastically, those intangibles come back to mind and the churning of memory and thoughts of regret and missed opportunities surround you at every turn. Somehow those demons in the deep recesses have to be tamed or at least kept at bay- somehow.
And as another new year arrives we wonder where the trade winds will send us- what directions will we drift and how much control we actually have. I have come to believe that all events that have transpired in my life, all the horrible and good decisions I have made were leading me to this point in time; that Christopher’s birth and his wonderful life were all meant to be. And if I believe that then I must also believe that his death was an inevitability and that it had be determined before he came into our lives and made us as happy as we will ever be.
And if all that is true then we have to find a way to learn to live with this heartache; this tremendous burden God has given us. So many are asked, no, demanded they learn to live with this constant companion- the houseguest that never leaves- the thing that takes so much and gives so little back. To live this way is something that cannot be explained. There is no benchmark or example that will begin to describe. There is no way to quantify, no way to even fathom. If you don’t live it, you can’t get it. And for that a prayer should be said.
Dec. 05-07
The Shadow cat is the “old man” of the house. Tonight he paws my leg with his toothless front paws demanding I let him out. It’s too late. The hour is past when we are comfortable that he venture out to the back yard. His safety has become paramount. In our devastating loss, we fret and ruminate about the smallest of details and of safety, not just for Josie, but for all who reside here. Shadow is the king. He is the master of this domicile; he is the spirit of my son. That most may not believe or understand matters little- that I know it is fact.
His relationship with Chris is documented innumerable times. The symbiotic bond they shared defies convention. Shadow’s intuitive nature regarding Chris’ feelings and physical well being are well known to those in this home. He looked after Chris more times than we can recall. And in return, Chris spent the better part of two days looking for him when Shadow on a lark, decided to venture beyond the safety of his comfortable, well know surroundings for the first time- a journey which could have ended in tragedy were it not for Chris’ dogged determination.
Our son saved us much heartache and also bequeathed us the most any human could possibly imagine. The heartache he saved us twice has now returned one back to him for safe keeping.
We lost this past week one of our precious pets. And as can be imagined, the loss was most visited upon our daughter. It has been a devastating week, during a week in which we needed no more anguish or pain. That she was again damaged emotionally has taken a toll too painful for us to explain. For her the hurts both small and large continue to exact their ravages on her sturdy economy, a small bank of strength and stubbornness that defies purposely and thumbs it nose at the bleak cards life and God has chosen to deal her.
But we are not unwounded. We begin this solemn, painful month with the contusions of this past week and the collective wounds of the past year. Before we have even begun, we limp to the starting line injured. We wonder whether we have the strength and energy to run the last mile of a race we have previously barely finished the last two years. But we are given no choice. We will run the race and we will finish. It can be no other way.
But in our loss, we are challenged to watch closer over our charges. This family is too small. Our son’s presence can never be replaced and the void he leaves is incalculable. For those that are left, both animal and human, the greatest of care must be taken. We can ill afford another loss- that possibility is real but unthinkable and unacceptable. To those that still live here, we must guard their lives.
Thanksgiving Day 2007
We went to mass this morning as has been our tradition for some years. Oh, there have been a few I guess we have missed but in general we have always gone to church on this day, some years without the kids depending on how much of a fuss they would put up.
In the past we had so much to be thankful for. Our lives were good and full. We had much to be grateful for and for some reason, going to mass to thank God on that day seemed the right thing to do and made me feel better.
As this month draws to a close and the painful cold of December arrives, I want to try to be positive- to find a way to be thankful for what we do still have and to be thankful to God for the positive signs we have seen over the last several months regarding Josie and her continued progress both emotionally, physically and most importantly, in the ways only we can see- fruits that have slowly but clearly budded , blossomed, tiny at first but still visible to us as signs our constant prayers are being answered. They have not yet ripened but neither have they withered. No, with every day we see progress, some days infinitesimal, other days crawling- but moving forward non the less.
We have worked hard this past year, dedicated ourselves to her wellbeing. Looked for any way possible, sought out any sign of hope and prayed countless prayers that she can begin to find a way back from her brother’s death. We have been charged with providing what ever we can in what ever fashion that presents it self, to find methods, devices, any small embers, vehicles that can be used to help her along as her last year with us quickly passes.
And when that year passes we are hopeful she will be ready to follow her path- a path that hopefully will last longer than her brother’s. We know he looks after her. We know it as sure as we know he is no longer with us in the physical sense. Although the signs are not as frequent, he does pass this way when he can. He lights in this house, sometimes at night in the stillness and at other times in the most unexpected place or time. We never know.
Today for the third time, we will sit at our seldom used dining room table and we will gingerly begin our meal with Christopher on our collective minds. It is not a happy day and the days to follow will bring only more sadness and anger and loss. To those that read this, be thankful for your families, for your kids, young or old, that they are still with you, living out their lives and you enjoying, being able to watch them grow and mature.
Say a prayer if you will, for all those families who will like us, sit down incomplete.
Happy Thanksgiving Christopher, wherever you are. We love you.
Oct. 7th, 2007
Sundays are hard especially when the weather is gloomy and gray and all of us have such limited energy. No one feels like doing much. The cat farm is sleeping- it looks like rain. Nothing feels quite right and as always, someone is missing. Not even the football game is good enough to lift your spirits and in fact in a small way, makes you feel worse.
We have not quite figured out Sundays. I don’t really know why nor do I know what we could do to make them easier to get through. It matters little whether the weather is good or bad and in fact, when the weather is sunny and nice it is sometimes harder because at those times you feel like you cannot waste the day; that you have to be productive- that you have to do something.
On cloudy days, the excuse is built in and if it rains, well then, so much the better.
I was online while watching the game, looking for some computer parts and I decided to use Ask.com. I had seen their ads recently on TV and just typed in Chris’s name to see what results would come back. Several pages related to him came back as I expected. A few things were new; some blog entries and other related postings. The subject matter on two in particular was written a few days after the accident and those were hard to read.
Written by friends, both the topic poster and the follow-ups made for emotional reading and as usual, that sickly, queasy feeling you get in the pit of your stomach was enough for me and I clicked the pages closed. It is hard to explain how something like that can take you back to the immediate ‘moment’; can bring about in a furious fashion, all the dread and pain of those days and nights.
Temporary technical problems are keeping Chris’ foundation website from being up and running. We have finished the flash opening home page and I have almost finished the main page content. When it is done, another piece of this puzzle will be placed. In short time, it should begin to bear fruit and we will do what we can in his name- a helpful and necessary exercise born from his death and steeped in our love and admiration of a son that meant more to us than these pitiful writings and related activities can explain.
As the days slowly roll to the end of this our third year without our son, the compression and anxiety will increase and we will have to again, find a way to gather the necessary energy that will be need to weather another December storm.
10-5-07 Friday night
There is virtually nothing left of our previous lives. Any sense of well being, of happiness, of just plain complacent comfort eludes us. For some reason unknown to us, God has yet to decide we have had enough. It’s easy enough for those reading this to infer I am pleading innocence or non culpability, but the truth is, in my eyes at least, that we have been given a harder road to travel- a constant theme in my writings but one non the less that is accurate and truthful from my point of view: a point of view that although skewed due to the events of the recent past, is regardless true by anyone’s standards.
Our surviving daughter is our only concern. We fret and agonize over the smallest of details. We immerse ourselves in the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘maybes’. It is our way of life. For the foreseeable future, it will be the way it is. We have little control over it. Whether there will be a time when we don’t worry and ponder the simplest of rote, agonize over whether she will be safe to leave the haven we have made here in our son’s absence is a question we are unable to answer or foresee.
And on evenings like this, we especially have no ability to discern fact from emotional remnants; those scattered bits of pain and memory that drive our reality; our way of looking at the life we now lead. And to be sure, this is no life. Not for her and certainly not for us. It is the unfairest of truths that she is now saddled with what is left of her brother’s death. All the things and ways we perceive this life we lead directly affect her ability to reach beyond those events almost three years ago. We wonder and worry that like us, she will be unable to find a way to continue. And we worry and with much guilt and fear, we will be the reason for her inability to find that slimmest of paths that could point the way to better days.
She has been the most damaged of us all. Chris’ friends will find their way- they will learn to live without him and they will fulfill their destinies and in the wide breath of time, he will become for them a dim ache. But for her, we wonder her mindset and her ability to find some way to rebuild what was so horribly shattered. I look at her and without regard to me and what I think and feel, I wonder, how in the hell she will ever be normal again.
I know personally, people that have lost siblings and in the most inconceivable of ways, learned only days ago, that my boss’ sister had died but a month ago. Nothing to this point though has buoyed my feelings that she too will be able to mend and put this live altering event away into some quiet place in her mind; where it will slowly degrade and dissolve into a small ripple of an ache in her heart. Oh how I pray for that to happen.
And regardless, she is our life now. We have to find some way to make her better;. we have to find the courage to continue to fight and battle , sometimes with her as she struggles to free herself from our demons. We know she wants desperately to get better. We know she does.
8-19-07
I found this great picture today while going through this small red box in Chris' room. The box has a few pictures he put there along with some keepsakes, trinkets, ticket stubs- things he must have felt needed safekeeping. Also were a few birthday cards from Aubry and some letters he saved; things that made me cry for a bit and wonder about his mindset at the time. One thing made me laugh out loud; a picture of me at Cody's ranch, shooting his M-16. Above my head, Chris had written in blue ink the caption, " Oh, you want some of this?" I just shook my head laughing and thinking about how that was so Christopher. There were also all the pictures of him shooting all of the assorted guns Cody would let him fire. He loved going out there and he thought Cody was "way cool" and always appreciated the trips.
I know buried in that room of his are many more smiles and laughs, as there are also many more tears. Some days I think of going through the closet, which is overflowing with all his treasures; all the things one leaves behind. On those days I think I might be strong enough to start that project but it doesn't take long before my weakness and my fears at facing more hurt, change my mind and I once again, close the door. In time we will have to gather the courage to open that door and begin the heartbreaking task of rumaging through the treasures of my son's all too brief life with us, but there is time; some days too much.
8-17-07
Thirty two months today since Christopher died. It’s hard to believe and I didn’t realize it until this morning when I checked the date for some paperwork I was starting early this morning. At first the realization brings with it an immediate anxiety in the pit of your stomach, the sensation of something wrong, out of place. Then the almost immediate sadness comes to your heart and fiery memories swirl around your mind, intense and brilliant. And as the first feelings begin to subside and your mind and heart start to process and rein in your emotions, the thought that it has really been almost three years takes over and then you begin to count back in small blocks of visions, all the horrible pain and experiences we have been through, recounting briefly some of the “high” points during those long months and again, you wonder, “How did we make it this far?”
As the summer draws to a close and Josie starts back to school this week I begin to count down to December and wonder if this time will be any easier. For sure, I know many who though they don’t say, believe we should be well on our way to recovery; that it has been long enough to mourn our loss and that their compassion for us is at an end and tough love is now required. To be sure, they want to go on with their lives and don’t want or need the emotional baggage that comes with interacting with us. We are a burden no one wants to bear for too long a time and no one is as aware of that as are we.
We always understood that we would eventually be left behind to find our own way; that even for those closest to you, there is a limit. We understand and to them we wave goodbye. Nothing will make me leave my son behind and the band of three we are will carry on as best we can, using Christopher’s love and strength to keep us moving to what ever awaits us.
8-10-07
I believe now that during those precious four months at college, Christopher’s views on life, living, fear and happiness changed, escalated to a higher level and that he became aware of this change; came to realize something that had been fomenting, coalescening in his subconscious- an awakening or enlightenment of understanding that brought him a freedom of mind and spirit. A “clarity” of thought that set him free mentally and spiritually.
I wonder now if that clarity gave him the permission he needed or sought. Perhaps the change happened as a prelude to his death but gave him the freedom to move on, past this life and his loved ones- on to his “new adventures”.
“And I will waste no time, remaining in our lives together”.
“Clarity” by John Mayer
One of Chris’ favorite songs…… ever. I know!
8-09-07
Watching parents with their young children or teens has been the hardest part of this new job. Being constantly reminded of what I have lost; what I no longer have, at least in the physical sense, a son. Overhearing on several occasions recently as summer draws to a close, conversations between older full time employees and the part time kids Chris’ age, talking about their final days of work as they prepare to go back to school, college, back to what Chris never had a chance to do, never got to experience after having weathered those first difficult, lonely months away from home; to be able to begin to build in earnest, his new life as an independent young adult, making his own schedule, deciding and directing his own life away from parents……. Away from us.
July 17th, 2007
With today’s date, the 17th of July, we cross the two and one half year mark since we lost Christopher. During this long new year, I have missed a few of those 17th marks. I seldom wear a watch now and the turn of the calendar means little except another day without my son.
By this time of summer, we would have taken our first vacation, probably to the sea, usually Cancun. By now Chris and I would have had our annual trips to the reefs, SCUBA diving and the end of the day bus or taxi ride, hot and sweltering, back to the hotel for his usual poolside hamburger. It always seemed that once we passed the 4th of July, the rest of these dog days would go by too quickly and before we would realize, another school year would be upon us and our halcyon days would be over for another season.
This is the third summer without Chris and I wish I could say we have become more accustomed to the summers- but we have not. These are long difficult days and months and we still have days when we can scarcely believe he is gone. The day of the 4th was particularly hard and emotional and our energy level and will power were minimal. I know all of us spent the day wondering and thinking about him- contemplating what once was and what could have been. How we wish we had learned to live a life with him in college and had become accustomed to him spending more time away from home. This brutal crash course we were assigned has been an almost impassable test and there have been times I am certain, all of us thought about dropping.
But we cannot do that selfish deed. We all have assignments- life lessons and work required of us. The irony of this life is that now that he is gone-was taken so brutally and devastatingly, more is expected of us than at any time in our previous lives. God demands more of us, expects us to find ways to keep going, motivations to press us on into the future- what ever that is. And so we work and cry and pray and try to get up everyday and listen closely to the signs and signals, prodding us softly in what ever direction our destiny lays.
We will finalize one important goal this week- the inception of Christopher’s charitable foundation. It was a vision given to me and we have been working steadily to achieve what I know in my heart is something I was directed to start. We could not have done it without those signs and this will be the lasting memorial that I envisioned to insure Christopher’s legacy. This will allow us to reach out in his name, directly and with meaningful purpose to those in need. It is what we were meant to do for him.
It will not unfortunately keep us from desperately missing him, especially on days like today when I pass the picture of him and Jules that sits on the fireplace hearth- their smiling faces, bright, happy and so alive. When I think back to when those must have been taken, a few short months or probably weeks before his death, it breaks my heart, makes me wonder what he knew or was thinking of- his whole wonderful life ahead of him, both of them. How can we survive these thoughts and desperate feelings and anxieties? How can we find the way necessary to incorporate all the pain and hurt into the life we have to live now? How do we miss him and mourn him and keep going? How do we keep from thinking all the deep dark thoughts of that week and then in that thinking, the spawning of the other thoughts that bud from the unknown, of which there is so much? I feel so damn helpless and I so miss my son. God, Christopher, how can we do this? Please tell me how son.
July5th 2007
I am clearly having one of those” I can’t believe Chris is gone” days. and every time I think of him as I try to go about my new job, those dreadful feelings- the slight anxiousness, the queasy slow agitation in my stomach and then the slowly creeping reality check that seeps into your mind; that your child is dead and is no longer here with you begins to permeate you fully.
I want to cry. It is cathartic-it does help to bring you back to this still new reality and consciousness. The tears somehow cleanse the feelings of forlorn and sadness, somehow they pull you up and readjust you perspective and again you are able to put aside the moment.
It will happen again, many times I am afraid. As the months turn into years and as the slow march of time and turn of the calendar takes us further from the day we lost him, these “reawakenings” will continue I fear until the day of our death- surely then when we cross over, he will be there waiting, smiling and beaconing- taking us on “his” journey, into his new life and reality. Only there and only then will we be at peace; free from this harsh, stark life and hollow existence. Oh how I pray.
“I’ll be waiting in another place and time; I will still be by your side”
Clark Datchler
Dear Son,
I am missing you so much this week. The 4th and now the weekend bring back so many rich, happy memories of our years together, enjoying the holiday festivities, not as father and son but as two kids; laughing and daring each other as we lite firecrackers and held them as long as we could while the already short fuses of our favorite “Black cats” quickly fizzled and sputtered, as the ever disintegrating fuse, hot and glowing, traversed its course to its inevitable destination and our impending pain or pleasure.
And in most cases, both, depending on who would give up first. And usually that was me, as your daring and fearlessness demanded you hold on longer. I so admire your courage- a quality I wish I had more of throughout my entire life. I desperately need it now as I try mightily to find my way without you. I love you boy.
June 27th, 2007
We are finally into summer in earnest and it has been quiet and lonely. I have been working at my new job for almost a month and my routine and settling into the rhythm is quickly happening.
It’s funny and maybe a little apropos that this job resembles so much my previous life in the grocery industry. The concepts are very similar and I am very familiar with so much of this new job regarding the corporate way of doing things. As I worked at small projects recently that bore no fruit, I realized how insignificant this work really is. It is not a bad thing. It is as with all of our new life, “just the way it is”. There is no right or wrong or good or bad. It just “is”.
I will not change any ones life with my daily ministrations and machinations. Nor will I solve any great mysteries. I will be just another cog in the machine- tooled to do my part in a greater collective of parts; and somewhere along the way, someone may or may not notice my passing or effort.
As I become a part of others work lives, I realize I will have to decide whether to become a specter, a ghost to others I interact with. Or will I choose to mingle more freely among those whose path I will cross frequently? The question has great implications. Do I choose to be an enigma, a question mark, a contradiction to those who know so little about me already because of my status in their daily work hierarchy, or do I choose to open myself to the casual, yet inevitable questions that are eventually asked when in this all too common work environment?
It is a question most do not have to ponder, yet one people in our situation face daily. To open yourself to your most terrible truths to those that may or may not be understanding or objective, or sympathetic- or to be purposely deceitful and vague in order to save your emotional energy when questions of family and background come to conversation.
Last week I stopped at one of my watering holes for a quick beer before going home for the evening and had been sitting for some time watching the Royals game when finally, the guy sitting to my right who had been giving me the all to familiar sideways glances in hopes of catching my notice in order to begin the typically inane “bar convo” managed to catch me off guard and off he went, first talking and lamenting the Royals woes and then worse, the “ Well I coach little league and I’ll tell you what……..” and on and on, regaling me of his baseball prowess and the wonderful, strict mentoring he does of his “ boys”.
Eventually when he took a breath and realized HE was doing all the talking and possibly felt he may have dominated the conversation, he paused to ask if I had kids. This is something none of you may have even thought of from our perspective- how to answer.
Luckily it has happened only a few times for me and in each case I answered “yes” but acknowledged only a single daughter. Can you imagine how I felt in those instances when I denied my own son? And there in lies the rub.
After the first couple of times I felt so ashamed of myself and was angry that I of all people would purposely lie about Chris. But in this life, we are forced to size up people and situations and try to determine who’s worthy and who’s not.
For the record, this babbling moron was clearly not only NOT worthy, he was not even worthy of me having ANY kids and so I told him, “No”. and as I suspected, I had sized him up correctly and without missing a second, was off again, chattering away as I quietly gave the bar wench the “cut me off and get me my tab ASAP” sign.
As I drove home, I felt better at this response and tack. Better to deny any kids and have the conversation stop cold from my end, then to say yes and have to answer myriad questions, depending on the party involved and the genuineness of their interest level.
Most people who engage you in conversation generally want to talk about themselves anyway and so it shall be with me. I think I will live a small lie, at least for the time being.
June 16th, 2007
Many regular visitors may recognize a portion of the above song. I use a small part of it for the rotating music that plays on the home page. Although when you listen to the song in its entirety you will probably realize the meaning of the song is far different than just that small portion I use. Since Chris died, the song has taken on a new and very different meaning for me, but much of its original theme still applies.
As Fathers day approaches I have been inundated with the usual commercial hype that accompanies this and of course the just past Mothers day. These holidays have never had much import to me. They come and go and the true meaning is lost in the incessant bombardment of advertisements. It is and will be just another time for us to pause and reflect Chris’ absence. The hurt comes and then leaves- in its wake a small ripple of sadness.
As I worked my first full week in an unfamiliar setting- the presence of someone employing me, I noticed more than ever fathers and their sons walking the aisles together and the watching has brought with it some sadness and once, the welling of tears, stayed by the surroundings.
Earlier in the week as I was standing working on a project, a dad and his teen age son passed, looking down the cavernous aisles in search of something. The son, about 15 or so walked a few steps ahead of his bewildered dad and said, “ I think its over here dad” and immediate visions of Chris leading me in the same manner, saying the exact same words flashed before me. I watched them for a few minutes as they continued on together and I replayed in my mind the visions and sounds of my son.
Later that same day, another father and his small son, around 3 or so walked to where I was working- the toddler running under the high shelving, playing among the products stacked on the floor, giggling and rambling, and again visions of Chris at that age, always running ahead, eager to stretch and explore, me running after him, grabbing him, telling him as this dad did, “Get back over her son”, “Watch out”.
I looked at them as I did the others and contemplated their future, yet unseen and unknown. Free of worry because they have no reason to worry- or more precisely, because it just is that way. Not so for us now because of what has happened BUT, we too lived that way as most of you do now and I guess it can really be no other way. We take care as best we can to safeguard them and we hope as time passes, life will be good and the seas calm.
Whether it is strangers I see or the new addition to our own family, their parents begin with the full expectation that they will live a happy, full life and they will watch them grow and experience all the joys and trials life will bring. And all will probably be so and every time I see this interaction between parents and offspring, I offer in my mind a quick, sincere hope that all transpires that way for them.
June 9th 2007
Today we went to the funeral of another classmate of Christopher’s 2004 Rockhurst class- Dustin Francis. I can’t even begin to explain how this affects us; the fuzzy memories the day and the event panned, slowly swirling memories and feelings blown from warm embers into a flame, though small, intense and hot.
I am so ashamed to admit that I have lost count. I believe this is the fourth. Chris, Sam, Dustin, and although I know he is Rockhurst alum, Matt Baker- I am not so sure he is from the same class. It doesn’t matter. Too many have been given up. If I had the mental fortitude, I would have checked before sitting here tonight after such a day and made sure.
The receiving line was again a bit of deja vu. As we awaited our turn to offer condolences, it was as if I was looking beyond myself-No, looking from above as I waited to offer the pitiful platitudes which would weakly spew from my trembling lips.
His parents were shell shocked- the look of death in his mother’s eyes, a frail beautiful woman, overcome and overwhelmed with the emotion and reality of her place in a receiving line that made no sense to her. Her eyes floated in enormous tears and her tanned, thin face and willowy form held firm as she graciously stayed herself and weakly smiled and thanked.
What struck me as I observed Dustin’s family was the single sibling left to carry on. All I could think of was Caranne.
Once again, God had led a healthy, happy family on a journey, no, a marathon- a trip of pain and loss. A single child to find his way on his own- his brother gone. Though he was of sturdy build, handsome and lean, the enormity of his brother’s death showed well the toll it had taken. And I thought of Caranne.
The beginnings of this third summer without Chris have again shown us the cost his death has exacted on her. She has to a degree that is painful and expected, revealed in minute ways the slowly expanding consciousness of loss his absence has brought to her life. We sense the loneliness in her, the realization she has no one to turn to on those warm summer afternoons when she needs more than casual friends. On those days she and Chris would go to a movie, or go swimming or spend the afternoon downstairs watching movies or just lying in his room talking and playing video games.
Those days will be no more for her and in that loss, we lose the security of mind that she is ok. I tell myself that if we can make it one more year, she will be better. I do believe college life will be a savior for her- a place of more comfort and acceptance. A place where she will fit in and adapt and find a comfort zone high school has not had.
But in reality those thoughts are just wishes. We don’t know how she will do or how she will be. She has endured so much and survived but at some point whether its wishful thinking or not, we have to believe she will find her way and somehow, find a life without him.
June 6th, 2007
I needed him today. I needed to know he was here with me. It has been a cruel understanding to come to that my son gave me my courage, my confidence. It is a thing I have come to understand over these last several months. It has been a brutal reality to contemplate and to finally accept. We lived symbiotically and I guess I didn’t even realize it. My son made me what I was. His force of spirit and bright-eyed naiveté actually fooled him into believing I was the one he looked up to- the one he learned life’s lessons from- the one who taught him to be a man. How far that is from the truth; he was my pillar, my example. And I was a poor student.
A new chapter in my life began today as I returned to the workforce and with it came all the insecurities, anxiety, self doubt I have ever known. I have needed to get back to a regular, solid regimen. My previous years of self employment provided a built in stability and march that I realized far too late kept me in tune- kept me organized and motivated.
The year and a half since that time has been filled with too much down time, too much free time- and mostly, too much thought. It has crippled me and in the process robbed me of any self esteem and ego I possessed. I have been a frightened child, afraid of the dark, afraid of life or the prospects of re finding one. Others have marched on and found their way or so I believe that to be true. Examples of their ability to rise from their personal tragedies has led me to feel that in some way, they have found the thing I have not- the elusive bit of understanding or acceptance of their plight that has allowed them to journey beyond where I have- to the place I have longed to find. The place where I think most bereaved surely must find. I don’t know.
I only know my ever sinking mental frame of mind has become a weight around my neck and has debilitated me psychologically. I have fought to regain what I can of my previous self but the fight has been slow and I have not always been able to allay my demons. As in a movie Chris and I loved, “They only come at night….mostly.” and my nights have been more anxiety filled, more restless and worrisome than at any time in the last two years.
I awaken feeling worn out, fatigued and the thought processes begin anew. I fret and obsess about my health, our lives, and an ever impending cataclysmic wave to befall us again. Some how I have to find a way to regain what died with my son. I have to find a way to relearn how to let go, at least a little. I have to find that way. I cannot continue in this mental frame of mind. I won’t last long if I don’t find a way to change something. It is debilitating and spirit breaking to contemplate the possibility of not succeeding.
I have to find what my son had and have to find a way to implement some of his ways in order to turn back to even just a small part of what I once was.
April 10th, 2007 My Son’s 21st birthday
We had always known that Christopher would be one of the last from his class to turn 21. We had sent him to school so early when most were holding their kids back to give them an advantage scholastically. We were not that bright nor savvy and honestly, we mostly sent him early so WE wouldn’t feel so guilty about all the years he had spent in daycare and the convenient excuse that we were really “doing him a favor” by sending him to kindergarten early saved him another year in a too crowded child care facility.
That we have regrets about how we raised him in his younger years is unquestionable. We do have regrets and in those quiet, painful introspective moments, I know we both hate ourselves for many of the things we did and mostly for the things we DIDN’T do for him. My regret, my horrible moment I must live with till my last day-that I didn't understand the gift I was being given. At the time, all those decisions- all the plans, all the logistical machinations seemed practical and proper and now we both realize they were mostly convenient- but not for him, for us.
Our mea culpa serves no purpose now except to exacerbate the feelings we are already saddled with- guilt, loneliness, longing, anger, extreme sadness. We need no more reason to feel badly especially this week. Our son’s twenty first birthday is here- and he is not.
We will go through the motions for the third time- we have our routine, painful as it may be. Like trained mice we are compelled to do small, insignificant things for a son that no longer exists in this reality and our reward is just in the doing. Under these conditions, there are very few things we can do for him physically but the ones that can be done mean so much and in some pitiful way, makes us feel a little better-assuages some of the hurt and pain.
He will always have fresh cut flowers because WE can do that for him-small trinkets and memorabilia. He will always be visited by us, because we CAN do that for him. He will always have a website and a scholarship fund because we CAN do that for him. In the near future he will have a foundation in his name, to help other families like us, because we CAN do that for him. All these little physical things and events are what are left for parents that have been relieved of the daily duties of parenting due to death. It is a way of life I would wish on no one.
So today we will “celebrate” Christopher’s birthday. We will decorate his mausoleum with balloons and flowers. I am sure Kay has bought him something and we will leave that too. We will stay longer than normal and say our rosary with him and I will write him a little note in the book that is always there. We will toast to him later in the day with a little of the “Captain” when we are weary and worn and the thought of inebriation seems a good idea and a refuge from the hurt. We will as we do everyday, ponder what would have been- what would he be planning; what sorts of mischief would his partners in crime have in store for him. And I know we would worry about his drinking too much just because he was “legal”.
And much more we will wonder about as we have on all the other birthdays and holidays and normal days. We have been missing him so much this past week. These events hurt Kay so deeply, the loss and hurt in her eyes is a hard thing to see. Every holiday, even Easter, brings with it its own set of memories and agonies and we will relive them again for the third time.
BUT, we will try to be happy today and we will have many moments of better days as we remember Chris' vibrant life- his crazy antics, his loud, wonderful laugh and of course, his breath squeezing bear hugs. His unbelievable acrobatics on the trampoline that I still have to move everytime I mow- his skill at skateboarding and the metal plate in his leg testifying to it-his love of Wendy's Frosties as dip for fries- the all night movie marathons and sleepovers- his butt sticking out of the fridge as he foraged for food- his black Adio cap, backwards on his sweaty hair-all of these things and more we will remember today and our hearts will lighten.
But mostly we will remember his undying love for us and of how he made our lives the most wonderful fullfilling
lives any parent or family could imagine.
For those that still come here to remember and visit, I would ask a favor. Sometime today, please remember our son. For his family, relatives and friends that knew him well, say a little prayer for his happiness in what ever new life he is living. Pray that he never regrets or feels badly when he sees us cry or hurt at his absence. Pray for his sister-that someday she can recover some portion of what was stolen from her. For his mother-that somehow, someway, someday; she may find some peace of mind and that with all of our collective prayers on this day, that God will see us worthy enough to let Christopher come to her, just for a moment, to again warm her broken heart a bit, calm her mind and bring a little of his wonderful spirit into her soul so that she can for a few minutes, think of her “Scooter” and smile.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON, I love you, Dad
Here is the link to the new photo album of Chris' birthdays over the years.
http://chriscamarena.com/v-web/gallery/album09
I added photos from our Paris vacation to the flyingattwilight.com website. It has an easy to load and use photo album for me to use. Click on the link and take a look if you would like. thanks Bob
 
March 22nd.
As we left the city of Paris this morning on the shuttle bus that ferried us to the airport, past the dreary block buildings that line the highway, my thoughts turned to my son. Even now as I sit in the waiting area typing this, I feel so forlorn and I want to cry and am not really sure why.
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