There’s sunset the night before……
Sunset the night of July 27th, the night of Ken’s death. Photo credit to Jeanne Garman.
and then there’s the stark reality of the morning after.
On the morning after, you wake up and for the first ten seconds your sleepy subconscious tells you this is just an ordinary day like all others.
Until you remember.
Nothing in our future is guaranteed.
Life is one way and then suddenly nothing is the same.
My large extended family is grieving this week.
On Tuesday my cousin’s 14-year-old son took his own life.
This was his mom’s Facebook post yesterday.
“I just wanted to finally get on here and thank all of you, our extended families, our neighbors, our Ankeny Community family, Little League and AJF family, OLIH church family, and friends for all of your thoughts, prayers, and support that you have been sending to us on the loss of our son, Jake Gardner. We cannot begin to express our heartbreak as he chose to take his own life on Tuesday. I know that you are all hurting too, and I am very sorry that Jake caused that hurt. I do want you all to know that Jake was a happy, active, polite, and loving kid who would help anyone in time of need. He loved to play baseball and recently had even talked to me about playing football again. He also enjoyed video games and the people he played with on the games. He was excited to try and get a job this summer and take his driving classes and get a school permit to drive back and forth to school on his own next school year, and he had a sleepover planned with buddies this weekend at our house, so he had plans to look forward to. I think that Phil and I always had open communication with our boys and made sure that if they seemed down we always talked to them about it. All the experts have told us from our description of Jake’s attitude and behaviors that there were no “textbook” signs that he would want to take his life, so we are all at a loss as to why he would do such a thing. The experts tell me that “sometimes we just never know why,” which is not the answer any of us want to hear. I also want you to know that we are donating Jake’s organs so that up to 6 other people may have a second chance at life. Some good had to come out of this tragic situation. Jake is still giving, even though he is gone from our sight, and I know he would want it that way. I wish I could just hug all the hurt away from each and every one of you. We have an excellent support system offering thoughts and prayers, and that is all we need to heal after this tragedy, so we thank you all for that. Also, if you have been sharing photos of Jake, I appreciate that too. It’s nice to see the REAL Jake – smiling, being a clown, playing baseball…just being JAKE. May God bless us all with peace and comfort.”
I’m in awe of her courage and her selflessness as she seeks to console others and of her and her husband’s decision to donate their son’s organs that others might live healthier lives.
In Jake’s honor I hope to always be mindful of the people in my life and to be grateful for their presence.
Judy and Phil have three wonderful sons. The youngest has gone to heaven too soon. Today he is in the arms of angels and in the presence of God.
May all who mourn him be comforted.
It’s been a tough week for our Global Strike Air Force family. Last Friday a well-loved and respected spouse at one of our bases lost her life quite suddenly. It’s been a week of grieving. A week of being broken.
This one hit me hard. I knew how much she loved her girls, I knew how much they loved and needed her. In conversations with her husband it was obvious how much he loved her, how much they loved the family they had created together. Her death left me numb and full of questions. It left me angry and incredibly sad.
And so I did a lot of walking this week. I did a lot of thinking. I took a lot of pictures. Somehow it helped me process the sorrow.
In the process of the walking I remembered a conversation I had with a friend a few years ago about going into her mother’s home after she died of a stroke. I recalled how hard it was for her to find her mother’s reading glasses lying on top of a newspaper, folded open to the crossword puzzle, partially completed. How difficult it was for her to find her unmade bed and the clothes she had last worn, lying in the laundry basket. How these details of the last moments of her life struck her as being so blessedly normal when her new reality was anything but.
I couldn’t help but think of the details of Holly’s life in her last few days. Of the details her family would remember as they faced their new reality. The pair of shoes by the bed. The coat left on the back of a chair. Of last words, last hugs, last embraces.
Although I’m always very visually aware of the details of my life, I resolved to be even more so this week, for the sake of a mother, wife, daughter, sister and friend to so many, who is gone way to soon.
This is the rest of my week….it was all about a lot of walking, a lot of thinking and about getting lost in the details of an ordinary life.
And it was also about telling people that I love them.
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