My Son's 26th Birthday

Today my son Danny was born. Well, not exactly today, but 26 years ago today. But he's not here to celebrate it with me, nor will he ever be again. I am sad. I realize a lot of things now that I wish I had known then, 26 years ago. 

When Danny was born, he was just under 24" long. Yep!! Almost 2' at birth and not to slow down anytime soon, either. At death, he was a bit over 6'4" and I've often wondered if he would have continued to grow like the weed he always had been. Or would he have slowed down?

I see C getting older and wonder if she would be less protective of her heart (with me, anyway) if Danny had lived. He always was a sort of "go-between" for us, because he loved us both so much and could truly see both perspectives without taking sides. 

I know that A missed him being at her wedding. Even though they were step-siblings, you would have never known it with the bond they shared from day one. I know she misses him terribly and often, but I don't know what to say to that or how to help. This makes me sad as well.

When he was little he was a daredevil. Middle-school stunts were things like not keeping himself from trying out "Jackass"-type of stunts. Yep, you know the ones. Hmmmm ... "How much pepto-bismal can I drink before it makes me sick?"  or perhaps more along the lines of "Why should I respect adults just because they ARE adults? They don't know me, or get to know me so I don't get THEIR respect automatically, why should they get MINE?"

Buck authority? Danny? YEP!

One day at middle school "Mom, why do I have to listen to a teacher that is stupid and doesn't know the answer to the question she asked?"  Me ... "Well son, it just comes with respect. You should ALWAYS respect those in authority over you." Danny: "Well, fine, but who decides who THAT is?" Me ... "Good question. Let me think on that and get back with you when I have an answer." LOL

Danny always knew what was going on in my heart. He never thought I should be perfect or anyone but who I was. I was simply me .... mom ... and he was my sunshine.

Wow. Hard to believe. Seven years. Twenty-six years old!! I wonder if he would have had a long-term girlfriend by now? Maybe he'd even be married and have kids. Wow, I could be a gramma!! *Let's just hold that thought for a moment ... I'm not in a hurry for that!*

I find myself crying again. Often. At every single little movie clip of children being shot out of the blue. At every single person who get a disease and beats it. I wonder sometimes if my crying is a bit of a sign of anger that these people with diseases CAN beat them, while Danny didn't have a chance. He was gone in the blink of an eye. Before any of us even knew it was a possibility. 

The worst part? For me? I never thought it could happen to me. I knew it could happen ... to anyone at any time, but never, EVER to me. Just. Couldn't.

But guess what? I'm here because it did. Because losing Danny has changed my heart irrevocably and made me a much better person. Losing Danny has changed my perspective on life as well as on what's truly important. I'm going to let you in on a secret here ... I would love to not be able to love so much, but then I think of all I would miss out on and decide I am fine just the way I am. I risk too much. I love too deeply. I cry too often. I sing to Jesus whether I'm happy, sad or just feel like singing. I am lonely, even with a crowded room full of people. I trust people until they give me a reason not to ... then I trust them just one more time .. in case they really want to be the people they say they are. Just in case.

Losing Danny has opened an entire new world to me. A world full of other people who hurt because they've lost a loved one. One where just about EVERY single person has lost SOMEONE they cared about ... through death, divorce, disease or just lost contact with because. Lost to us is lost. 

If this post means nothing else to you, make no mistake that it IS a plea for you to reacquaint yourself with the people you've lost touch with. Maybe make an apology even when it wasn't your fault. Please, please, please do NOT let another day go by when you are not talking to someone you really want in your life. Just as importantly, surround yourself with people who love Jesus and accept you (but will call you on things you do wrong), so that you have no regrets.

Regrets are odd things. You don't want any. Or as few as possible, anyway. Do NOT regret loving someone who doesn't love you back because that love changes who YOU are. Do NOT think so much about the cost of things that you hold back from doing them. Take exotic trips to super cool places that intrigue you. God put a whole big world out there for us all to take advantage of ... in the best way possible. Live life large. Don't worry about whether or not you fit into the mold "they" have for you ... only God's mold really counts. 

Don't want to work a 9-5 job?? Then DON'T!! Change the normal of your life to fit the life you want for yourself, while trying your very best to do what God has called you to do. Be the best YOU and God will use you in more ways than you will ever imagine. 

If you are old enough to be married and have children, love them with all you are and all you have. Hold nothing back because you are a touchstone in their lives. Even when they say things that are hurtful and perhaps even a bit hateful, love them. Accept them socially where they are. Love them unconditionally for who they are. Then step back and place them in God's ever-caring, ever-loving, gentle embrace. He will guide them and take care of them for you. Always remember ... God wants the best for your children even as He wants the best for you.

Don't wait for tomorrow to look back and wish for today. "We have this moment to hold in our hands and touch as it slips through our fingers like sand. Yesterday's gone and tomorrow may never come, but we have this moment today."  Bill Gaither Trio

Most importantly of all, don't ever stop loving your family. Your mum and dad will always be your mum and dad. If you need to forgive them for some past mistake, do. Your family is always your family. God chose them for you for a specific purpose, and it's up to you to figure that out. Love them. Show them God's love, even when it's difficult and seems nigh impossible. I promise one thing ... it is not.

Let Jesus be the light in your life, no matter what. When you are able to be the light shining into the darkness because of God's light, God is using you to show people who He is. Let Him. It's perhaps one of the hardest things you'll ever do ... allow yourself to be used by God and He will bless and keep you always. 

Today ... Just Today

So, the last couple of days have been tough ones for me. The night before last I awoke with terrible night terrors, reliving the car accident that took Danny. No, I don't know exactly what happened, but that doesn't seem to stop my subconscious minds (aka satan) from putting details in my head that I can't possibly know. The terrors are always so vivid that I wake up drenched in sweat and tears, sobbing uncontrollably. Thankfully this time Dave wasn't waken up by it ... for that I am thankful. One of us going through this at a time is more than enough.

Then last night they struck again. Well, not really last night, but more like 3:30 this morning. And so I got up and worked on homework and tried to not think about Danny ... at all. That did not work. So here I am, putting down on paper what I can barely admit to feeling in my heart.

I know to expect stuff to hit me this time of year, just usually not quite this early. Danny would have been turning 24 (he was born in '88, so I believe my math is correct) on the 15th of this month and so it begins. I try so hard to not let these things happen. I keep praying throughout the day that God will help me through this. I know I'll never get "over" it, but getting through it ... once and for all ... would be nice. I am not sure I believe that will ever happen, however.

I feel so overwhelmed right now. I know that God loves me. I get that. And I know that my husband and my girls love me. I get that. And I know there are other people who love or, at the very least, care about me. I get that. It doesn't matter. Danny isn't here and no matter who is, he will never be again. I will never see his smile that lit my world. I will forever miss the colorful character that he was. There is no other person on this earth like him. I know. Does this help ... all of this remembering? Probably not but memories are what I have left of my son. So I will remember and I will be thankful for his life. 

I will try to not cry when I say his name. I will not walk into work with a tear-stained face. I WILL get out of bed every day and do my best to make him proud. To not give up. To not let satan win this battle. Some days, quite honestly, I am afraid that I will loose.

No, I am not suicidal. No, I do not want to die. Yes, I will continue to laugh at stuff that makes me laugh and smile when I feel like smiling. But a part of me died with Danny, in 2005. Make no mistake .... I am not whole now, nor will I ever be again. I am aware of that. More intensely aware now than ever before.

I am tired of being strong. I just want to curl up in bed, nice and warm, and cry for a day ... or two ... or ten ... until there are no tears left. I did that, actually. I was pretty sure that there were no tears left in me on more than one occasion, but am always proven wrong. There are. Plenty. Always more where the last ones came from. My heart.

I never knew a heart could cry, but it does. I firmly believe that while my head knows Danny is gone and is coping quite nicely thank you very much, my heart will not, no CAN NOT admit to that same truth. He may be physically gone, but he will always live in my heart. My heart knows this and resists the emptiness that it feels at the mention of his name. It aches with a longing that will not be fulfilled until that day we see each other again. The ache is like nothing I've ever felt before or will ever feel again. It is an empty kind of ache ... as though my heart is missing a piece of itself which, in truth, it is. A very large piece.

I am tired of feeling desolate. Even with the hope my best friend Jesus gives me, I grow weary. I will be ok. I will never be the same, but life will go on. I will watch my daughters grow old and perhaps have children. I will watch C walk down the aisle some day, wishing her brother could be here to see her. I am sure everything will be fine. I will put my best foot forward day to day. 

I will wait patiently for strangers to come along and read this and, perhaps, comment on it. I will do my best to help them understand whatever grief it is they are dealing with. I will move forward on this path God has placed my feet upon. 

I will never understand why Danny died that night. Not ever. But I will accept it, in time. I just am not sure that I am ready quite yet. Forgive me but I don't know how to grieve the loss of a part of me. I. Just. Don't.

Jesus, help me today. I can only do this one day at a time and, with Your help, I am sure I CAN make it. Thank You for being my best friend. I love You.

 

Another New Normal

   So it's May 2012 and my little girl is graduating high school. She is excited, as am I, but my excitement is tinged with a healthy bit of fear and caution as I know her. Now that she is 18 and a legal adult, she is even more fearless than before. And that was fearless enough for me to try and live with!
     C is my sweetheart and I know that, no matter what choices she makes about where to go to college or where to live, my life will be substantially emptier without her in it. 
     I find it difficult to not be super overprotective of C, since Danny is gone. This has started many a fight and a lot of harsh words have been exchanged as she believes I am being overbearing and I accuse her of being selfish, rude and thoughtless. We both believe we are right and, in a way, we both are. I AM being overprotective but, I believe, with good cause. She IS being selfish, but no more so than any other 18-year old who wants to prove that she DOES know some things and is not just an ignorant "child" with not thoughts or decision-making abilities of her own. She is of sound mind and a great judge of character, so why am I so afraid of her being on her own?
     I am afraid that once she's tasted the freedom of life outside of the safety of these walls, she will never come back. I am afraid that she will try things that she shouldn't, just to prove to herself (and to us parents) that she really IS invincibel. She is not.She is, however, fearless. That is, I think, what is the hardest for me. This newly noticed sense of "It could never happen to me". 
     I wonder, does she think that Danny really believed that he would die the night he set out to go home from his friend's house? I am pretty sure that thought never crossed his mind either. In fact, I'm just as sure that clear back when he was learning to drive, it was common for him to say things like "Hey mom, I know, ok? I WON'T have too many friends in the car with me. I won't get distracted. I will be ok. Quit worrying."
     I did. I quit worrying and now he is dead. Somehow, at some level, that still feels like my fault. Now don't get me wrong, I know I didn't kill Danny. In fact, I even know that it wasn't my fault he was driving at a time he shouldn't have been. After all, there was ice on the road and he knew that. He simply made a bad decision ... something we all do on a daily basis ... with far more dire consequences than most of use will ever face. It cost him his life.
     So, life moves on. C graduates from high school and is off to a much warmer, less rainy climate to enjoy the first year of her college experience. San Diego is a huge city but I am sure she will fit right in there. She is a beautiful young woman, full of self confidence and carefully optimistic about her future. She talks about marketing and international business for her degree but, like most young people at this age, is truly undecided about where that will take her.
     I keep encouraging her to travel. To perhaps take a job as a nanny in another country. She is a nomad like me, and I keep thinking that if she gets it out while she's younger, she will not regret later that she didn't travel. Once married and with kids, some of those things are much harder to do. Much more rewarding, from my point of view, but much harder nonetheless.
     Sometimes, C says or does something that reminds me so much of Danny that it is painful. I am better at hiding this now. I do not EVER want her to think that she is the source of the pain those moments cause me. She is not. She is my heart.
     I see a lot of Danny in her. She has a smile that is a little bit of a smirk, especially when she's just gotten something over on someone and they don't know it yet. And her laugh ... oh my goodness ... when she's truly laughing, it makes my heart soar to the highest heavens to hear her laughter fill the air. When she is around little people that she loves, this is when I notice it the most. Her smile is much easier coming then. Her posture more open and less self-protective. She loves with all that she is and sometimes with such abandon that I am sure some young man will find her and sweep her away. But not too soon. I pray this will not happen before she is truly ready for it. And yes, this means her dad and I are ready for it too.
     I do not see her alone for very long in her young life. She is too loving and has too big of a heart for that. She is my heart and one of the most favorite people in my life. I pray that this new found friendship remains in place, as we both age and find ways to gracefully allow one another to grow into who we are meant to be.
     I know now that I am meant to be her mom. I do not believe that there is a single other person on the face of this earth who could have done a better job than I have at raising her. I know that God placed her in my life for the lessons I would learn, but just as importantly because I would need the love she has to share. She is my daughter and I wouldn't change a thing about who she is, how she lives or how she loves. I would only ask her to be a bit more careful with her heart. God only gives us each one, and once it is broken for any reason, the pieces never fit together exactly right ever again.
     Cherish your heart C. Love yourself enough to draw that line between who is worth your time and who is not. Do not base this on looks, or money but instead base this on what your heart tells you about a person. You have a gift with this. You have a super sense of good character ... do not be afraid to use it.
     Know this, my darling daughter ... I love you. No matter who comes and goes in your life, I will always be here for you. You will always have a place to come home to. I am not perfect, but I am the only mom you got. You are not perfect but, to me, you are as close as I will ever see to perfection here on earth.

     Just before she left for college, C said to me "Do you think Danny is watching us from heaven? I mean, really?" with a quizzical look on her face. I thought about this a few moments without answering. "You know, honey, I can't honestly answer that. I mean, I haven't found anywhere in the Bible where it says that he is but then, I haven't found anywhere that says he isn't either." I wait for her to say more but she is waiting for me so I go on. "I choose to believe that Danny is watching over us a little like a guardian angel might. When I remember this, I think of him looking down and wonder what he would think of how I am living my life. Did I listen to my heart and give that homeless person a sandwich or did I just walk by, not even acknowledging their presence? Did I help an older person carry their groceries to their car, just because it was the right thing to do? Danny was so inherently good at these "little things" in life. I would like to think that when he watches me ... us ... he is able to smile because we ARE living more outside of ourselves now. We ARE helping others with less. We ARE beginning to see what life should be like, living it for Christ. I choose to believe that those things make him happy. Whether or not it's true, I honestly can't say. But it certainly changes how I live my day to day life. And for an added benefit, I find that I like myself more these days as well."
     I guess this answer satisfied her because that was the conversation in it's entirety. It has never been brought up again except when one of us, on occasion, says "betcha that made Danny laugh" and we look at one another and smile. That is, for me, enough. Hopefully, no prayerfully, for C it is enough as well.



  

2011: Who Needs A Job??

So in March of 2011, my pastor had just asked me to think about starting a kid's choir. I looked at him and said this "I really can't commit to anything else right now. With the full time job and all, I am super busy with the stuff I'm already doing at the church. I DO feel that God wants me more involved, so please pray for me that I'll know what He wants me to do. I need all the prayers I can get!"

The very next day, no kidding. At 8:07am my boss calls me into his office and says "Well, Jean, we are moving things around a bit and we don't need you anymore." What did I do?? Well, I looked him straight in the eye and began laughing my hardest. In fact, I laughed so hard he looked at me and said "What are you laughing at? Didn't you hear what I just said?" To which I simply responded "Well, I have had God answer prayers just never this quickly OR this obviously!" I then walked out to my desk and began quietly packing up my things. I called Dave and he came to pick me up.

That very morning, as Dave was driving me back to the house, he looked at me and said "How do you feel about college? You had mentioned a while back and I'm curious if you've given it more thought?" I looked at him, head tilted, and shook my head. Oh, the quiet faith of a gentle, wonderful man. "Well, I WOULD love to go to a worship/ministry college, but how in the world would we make that work? I mean ... financially?"

He looked at me and said "You are the one who is always telling me to trust in God. Don't you think it's time you listened to yourself and did just that? Trusted God to make this happen if it is meant to?"

I had begun to cry, softly. I had known from the time I was small that God had given me a great leadership and worship gift that I had always been afraid to use. I knew that once God started moving in my life, I could do nothing to stop it. That one way or another, my will would become His. Even though that is as it should be, it terrified me. So I ran. The other way. From the time I was 20 until I was 41, as quickly as I could. I tried my best to tune Him out so I didn't have to change.

All of that changed on this day, March 21st, 2011.

Dave took me to a college that he had read about online, and I fell in love with the people and the Spirit of God that was ever present there. The decision had been made by my Heavenly Father and I was going to fulfill my calling. God provided the funds for the college through unemployment and I was so excited. Every time I turned around and some financial need came up for my family, God took care of it. Just like He said He would. He is a God of His word and I am grateful for that.

Towards the end of my first term, the last week of November, I noticed that my right eye wasn't functioning correctly and the ceiling of vision in my right eye was only about half-height. What that means is that everything above the mid-point of my vision was black. Dark. Nothing to be seen. It freaked me out and scared me half to death.

My eye doctor recommended that I see a retinal specialist when she suspected that my retina had detached. The specialist met with Dave and I and said "The ONLY repair is to do a retinal reattachment surgery, but that is very, very expensive. How do you want to move forward with this?" I look at Dave and begin to cry. I am tired. At this point of my life, it feels like satan is doing everything possible to stop me from fulfilling my destiny. I am angry because I do not want him to win. I want God to rule my life. But how?? What in the world can GOD do for me now??

I am tired ... again. Dave and I go home and he again makes phone calls on my behalf. By the time he is done, he has secured financing for the entire surgical procedure, including anesthesia and anesthesiaologist, operating room, and the eye surgeon. This entire surgery, which is a $27000 surgery, cost us ... NOTHING!! God is so good that He took care of the ENTIRE bill!!

The surgeon waited until after A was married on December 17th and the surgery was done on the 19th of December. I waded through mid-terms with less than 1/2 vision and still God blessed me with a 3.6 for my final semester grade. God is good!!

I guess the reason I am sharing all of this is as a gentle reminder that when God speaks to us, we really NEED to listen. We may not want to and, in some instances, could probably find a perfectly good excuse for walking the other way. Our God is a patient God, and He will not try and bend us to His will. He will, however, keep You close to Him. He will gently remind you and, at times, not so gently nudge you in the direction that you need to go. I implore you ... listen!!! There is a passage that speaks about God clothing the flowers in a field with beauty, even though they will never been seen by human eyes. How much more important are we to Him than the flowers in the fields!! 

He loves us and blesses us when we follow Him.Don't get me wrong ... this doesn't mean that there will not be hardships. My life and losing Danny is proof of that. What it does mean is that God will take care of us. He WANTS to take care of us ... we have simply to ask.

 

2010: "Eye See"

Wow, how time marches on. Whether we think we can deal with our grief and day to day life or not, time stands still for no man. Nor should it. At least, not yet. 

In 2010, we had been in Oregon a smidge over 2 years. Is smidge a word? I don't know but I'm sure you all smiled when you read it. And chances are incredibly good that you knew EXACTLY what I was talking about. Not sort of, or thought maybe you knew, but you honest-to-gosh KNEW what time frame a smidge consisted of. If you didn't, shame on you! Try to find that imagination that you apparently lost at a much earlier age than I!! *Just sayin...*

Early in 2010 I went to get a new glass prescription, and found that my eyes had continued to get worse each year. I expected it but it still annoyed me. I got the lens prescription filled and went home, complaining to Dave "I have had to wear glasses my entire life and I HATE them!" About 3 months later, sometime around mid-June if memory serves, I noticed that the new glasses seemed very blurry. Whether I was watching television or reading a book, things were just out of whack and I could find no reason for it. I went back to the eye glass place and they checked the prescription for the lenses and the prescription was correct. They looked at me and said something along the line of "We don't know what the problem is, but the lens prescription IS correct, so it isn't our problem." Well, I was miffed. I called a local (Portland metro) eye clinic and asked to see an optometrist. They got me in within a few days of the initial phone call and mere hours later, I was told that I had a full-blown cataract in my left eye. Out of nowhere. There is no family history of cataracts. I had not had head trauma or been in a serious car accident where I hit my head within the past 6 months. Out of the blue, I am asking God "What in the world did I do to deserve this? Can I PLEASE get a break? Just one!!" And I was angry. Again.

I was working at a job then, but my benefits didn't kick in until three months after this diagnosis.I had been told that they needed over $2000 up front just to consider the operation and then to schedule it. I remembered that our friend at the credit union in Alaska was always happy to help us when she could. I didn't know what else to do, so I called her. Here's a part of the conversation, as I remember it:  

Me: "I have to have cataract surgery on my eye and I have no medical coverage." Crying, I continue. "I don't know what to do! Dave still doesn't have a job and this is going to cost about $3800. Can you help me? Is there somewhere else I can go??" 

She quietly responds "I am sure there is something I can put through for you. You have been such a good friend and this is why we are here ... to help our people when there are problems and there IS no where else to go." 

So I called the doc and we scheduled the surgery for mid-September. When I went in for the pre-op checks and all, she checked my left eye and found that, out of the blue, IT now had a full-blown cataract as well. WOW!! All I could think was "How in the world am I going to take care of this now? How can Dave and I make this work, with the cost of each surgery coming in at $4000?" I didn't know. I wanted so badly to trust God, but this was stretching my faith in ways that it had never, ever been stretched before.

Dave made some phone calls and a Lions Club that we had started in Alaska came through for us and footed the bill for the entire second surgery a mere 2 months later. I am 100% sure that God used those folks to take care of me. He covered the cost of the surgery AND implanting new lenses in my eyes so I would never need glasses again. How incredible is THAT?? God IS good!!

After both of the surgeries were done, I noticed that my eyes were dry a lot and really hurt when I cry. The doc says that it's because of the salt in our tears but I think it's also Gods' way of reminding me that while crying can be good, it can also be used to stop me from allowing healing to take place. I want to heal. I honestly pray that God uses me to help others through this grieving process. 

I am tired a lot easier these days. Dave says he thinks it's depression but I think it's just plain old exhaustion from life catching up with me. Some days are still harder than others. I often feel older than I am, but just as frequently am struck by how merciful God has been allowing me to build friendships with people of all ages. I am happy that my health is good enough that I am able to enjoy full-time college. God is giving me the wisdom, strength and courage to fulfill my destiny. May you follow the path He has set your feet upon and allow Him to lead you in the fullness of following Him. Always remember .. YOU ARE A CHILD OF THE KING!!

He loves you. He loves me. He is, and always will be, the very best thing that happened in my life. He is the reason I love life. He is the reason I do my best to "live" life while loving and following Him.

2008: A Lifetime Later

Sometime early this year, C says to us "Hey, do you think we could possibly move stateside for me to go to high school? You know the schools here won't get me ready for college, not really anyway, and I really want to go to college. Whatcha think?" Dave and I look at one another and I say "Well, I honestly don't see why not. I mean, we proved we can make the bed & breakfast idea work so we can always come back and start another one." Looking at Dave, I realize just how much we would be giving up to make this move. We both love it here so much. But, ultimately, we want to do what is best for C. Her school finishes up in April, so we begin planning mid-March on how to make this work.

Sometime right around then, we get an invitation to my nephew's wedding in May and, shortly after that, get an invitation to another nephew's wedding a couple of months later. So we load up the truck and make the trek up to beautiful Portland, Oregon. C, Dave and I. We leave our faithful four-legged friends Annie and Sparky down in Mexico and a friend and his son offer to take care of them for us. We are off. Another great adventure for us.

I am, however, at this very moment, torn. Dave and I have fallen in love with our new home La Paz, and know that we will miss it a lot. We make it up to Oregon in about 10 days and my sister and brother-in-law let us stay with them. Dave and I are there a little less than a week and we are back off down to Mexico, to pick up the rest of our stuff. This simply did NOT go the way we planned but, then again, we are not really big on planning so it kind of showed this time around.

C stays with her auntie and uncle and has some great quality time with her cousins. She had never really spent time with them and, if memory serves, had only met them a couple of times in her 14 years of life. Sometimes I am sorry that we weren't around family more, but for the most part, there really isn't much in my life that I would change. Even about where we lived. 

About a week after we get here, we find out that our home in La Paz was burglarized and C's little dog was killed. We don't know if he was killed during the break in, but he is now gone. C is only 14 and already she has lost a brother at 10 and a dog she had for almost as long. I am sorry that this happens to her but I know that nothing I say will change the facts.

I missed a perfectly good chance to talk to C about death and it's role in our family. It's role in the circle of life is there every moment of every day, and yet we can't talk about it. It appears that whenever one of us may want to talk about it, we change the subject. C is afraid that it will make me cry and get emotional, while I am afraid that WE will forget Danny. 

It has already started. When I don't have a picture of him in front of me, I forget the big dimples he had every time he smiled. I love the fact that he was always a free spirit and, although he did things HIS way, he was always true to himself. He loved me as unconditionally as I loved him. The difference for me, now, is that I STILL love him and he can no longer show his love for me. It makes me sad and I am sorry.

Danny, I am sorry that I didn't say the things I should have while you were still here. I am sincerely broken-hearted for the way we said our good-byes before Dave and I took C to Mexico with us. I am so very sorry that I wasn't a more God-fearing person when it would have made a difference for you. 

You would like me more now. I don't cuss hardly at all, I listen better (most of the time), and I don't yell as frequently or as loudly as I did with you. God is working on me, making me a better person, but I am sorely afraid that it was a part of me you never got to see. For that, may God give me the serenity and peace-of-heart to know that you loved me anyway.

O how I miss you. My light. My love. My heart. I am trying to be better for C and A, because they are still here. I am trying to be the best "me" that I can be, but sometimes I get lost in the fact that I was NOT the best "me" while you were here ... and it makes me sad.

Going on three years later and my heart still aches when someone says your name. It will be nice to be back in Oregon, where we are closer to your graveside, but it will be horrible at the same time. I don't think I can go to the graveside again. I know you are not there but watching us from heaven. It doesn't make me miss you any less, but it sometimes brings a smile through the tears to think of you smiling at us. Every time I picture you in heaven, I wonder some pretty silly things ... I wonder:  Do you get to dye your hair up there? Do you still have those silly red dickie pants that you loved to wear to get attention? Do you play catch with Sparky, great grampa and grampa? Who wins when you do?

Oh honey, I love you. My heart will never be the same and I am realizing that more every day. C is growing up quickly before my eyes and I see so much of you in her. She does that funny "whatevah ma" thing that you used to do when I was annoying you. Sometimes she tilts her head a certain way, or gives me a heartfelt hug ... and that is when I see and feel you here. In my heart. 

I am so glad that a love like ours will never be truly gone. As long as one of us is alive to remember the other, the love is there. You will always be "my boy". You will always be the tall, thin young man who holds a very real part of my heart. Forever

I love you son.

I am glad that God loves me enough to help me through this process. I know He will help you to if you but ask. His. Love. Never. Changes. And. He. Loves. Us. All. The. Same.

After Some Time

So, I haven't yet decided what to call this post. I guess that after I see what flies off of my fingertips, I will come up with a catchy heading to get people reading this story again. We shall see.


From 2006 to 2008, life goes on as before Danny's death. We still speak to A monthly or so, and we keep in touch with our parents, Dave and I. We relish life. We have learned that every little moment in time is precious ... so very precious ... that we don't want to waste a single one.  We spend as much time as we can involved in church activities for it is there that we are beginning to truly heal. Our hearts are beginning to feel a bit less empty and a bit more understood. C is back in school and is going to classes from 8am until noon, then coming home and homeschooling from 1pm until roughly 5pm. We found ourselves doing a lot more family things with a lot more families. Neither Dave nor I enjoyed being at home alone much, even with Crissy, so we didn't spend much time there. When we didn't have guests, we weren't there. 

We learned to enjoy showing tourists the places in La Paz that we loved. Our favorite restaurants, our favorite beach spots and the local hang outs that only local folks knew about. The best places for tapas, the best bar in town for a Corona or two, and the best place to hear live Mexican mariachi bands.

I began working on a scrapbook of Danny's life sometime within this second year, I don't recall the exact date, but I only got about a layout (or 2 pages) done every month or two. It simply never made it past 6 pages and, even now, I can't finish it. I find that whenever I open the box with all of my "Danny moments" in it, I am hit with a wave of nostalgia that threatens to drown me. I cannot allow that and so I close the lid. I cry ... just a little. How do you write a life story with pictures that only show so much of who a person was? How do you show the different facets to the diamond that was that young man, my Danny? I do not know, nor even pretend to, so at some future date, I may finish the scrapbook. Then again, I may not.

I frequently pray that my family will forgive me for withdrawing after Danny's death. For becoming so introverted that I felt no one could ever understand my pain. I simply have never loved anyone so much in my life ... and I fear that I never will again. I wonder sometimes if that makes me less *human* than I once was. To not really want to feel the closeness just in order to feel the ripping away that will surely, at some time, come. I am afraid.

Life is fragile, but love is more fragile still. We all do the best we can but I would challenge us all to do one better. Do not be afraid to talk about how you feel. Do not be afraid that people will make fun of your emotions, they may .... but it really doesn't matter. Your life must be lived by you FOR GOD. He is the only one who really, truly matters. 

I have come to understand that part of my purpose in this life to help others find the Jesus that I have found. The One who loves me no matter what. The God who doesn't get mad at me when I yell at Him, but who understands every single thing I have gone through. You see, He lost a Son also. Not at 18, but at 33. Not because He was taken because of His basic sin nature, but because He was taken because of MY basic sin nature.

I am finally finding my footing and being comfortable with who I am. I may laugh a little louder than I need to, cry a lot more easily than I should and find solace in things that no one else would understand. But I am ok with that.

 I pray that you find that comfortableness too and are able to live with it as well.

Time Marches On

So here, finally, is the truth. TIME MARCHES ON ... I do not want it to and, in fact, become quite enraged at times that it does. Sometimes it feels as if all of creation, including God, has forgotten that my Danny is no longer here with me. I know that's not true in my head, but my heart finds it much harder to process and agree with that statement.

As the first year blurs into the second, I am struck with how *usual* life seems to be. Everything seems to run the same as before. The car still starts when I turn the key in the ignition. The fire still lights when I put a flame to the propane at the stove. C is continuing to grow up and mature. A and C have both surpassed their age in years by this early childhood loss of their brother, their protector, their closest and dearest confidant. I frequently wonder how bereft they must have felt at the loss. A had met Danny when she was 7 and he was 5, but C had know him all of her 10 years of life. I cry. Whenever I remember that my girls lost a brother, something I never had, it makes me unbearably sad even now and I am moved to tears.

The tears come much easier as the time passes. I had the errant thought that once the initial time of mourning was over, I would be more like myself. That I would be less emotional. Things did not quite work out that way. I quit wondering what people think of me and when some little girl at the airport blurted out to her mom "Hey mom, why is that lady crying? Do you think she is ok?", I just smile sadly at the mom. Usually, she shushes her child and I am left thinking that I will never again be able to say to Danny "Hey, do you mind here? We're watching a movie!" when he incessantly talks through the whole thing, wanting explanation after explanation for what is going on in said movie. Or how I'll never get to see him be best man in his sister's wedding. 

During this time, a bit after the 2nd anniversary of Danny's death, I asked a dear friend in Alaska if she had any work for me. She responded with "I always can find work for you, dear friend." So I go. I spend 10 weeks working at the new women and children's shelter; organizing the donations room, networking new computers, everything to keep my mind occupied. Then I do it. I drive out to the cabin where we had said good-bye to Danny on September 1st, 2004, as we set out to Mexico and he to Oregon to stay with his dad. I stood on the porch and in no time at all found myself overwhelmed with feelings of remorse. Questions ran through my head unfettered by logic or reason and I had no answers. Nor do I now. "Why didn't we make him go with us?" "Did I love him enough while he was here?" "Is God punishing me because I wasn't the mom I should have been?" On and on they went. There is nothing worse, in this life, than questions there are no good answers for. I have always said that I don't believe in regret. Well, until Danny died, that was more true than not. But I have hurt a lot of people in my life and I do believe that Danny was among those injured. For the injuries that I inflicted along the way, whether knowingly or unknowingly, I am sorry.

I no longer hold myself responsible for Danny's passing. I know that when God put Danny on this earth, it was just when I needed him most. And God knew how long Danny would be here. 

At that point of my life, things would have gone so much more wrong than they did if Danny had not been in my life. He was the reason that I quit my self-destructive behaviors. He was the cause for my wanting a better life than that of an abused woman living with an abusive husband. He was my reason to go on when I didn't feel like going on. He was with me through two divorces, neither of which was pleasant OR amicable, and he was consistently by my side. There was an incredible bond there that I had never felt before and, quite frankly, have never felt since. Nor do I expect to ever feel that bond again.

He was the love of my life. There. I said it. And God didn't strike me dead. 

Someone said to me shortly after Danny's death "Well, perhaps God took Danny because He felt you were using him as a substitute for God." Well, I choose to not believe that for a second! I loved my son as any good mother loves her child. Unconditionally. With tons of love and heaps of caring for him. He was like an extension of me and I didn't go anywhere he could not go for the first 5 years of his life. I quit going to bars ... at all ... because if Danny couldn't be there with me, it wouldn't be near as much fun!! He was the apple of my eye and that never changed.

I have gone to Danny's grave exactly twice since we buried him. I cannot go back. The inscription carved on the stone is beautiful and a true expression of who Danny was, but he is not there. Yet even knowing that does not stop my heart from ceasing to beat when I stand at his grave. I was in fear for my very life both times I stood there. I was totally convinced that when Danny died, I would die to. I did not. Physically, I am still very much the same person. A little heavier, definitely older and yet no wiser than I was then. I am still no closer to understanding why he was taken when he was. The difference now is that I am at peace with that. For me, the most interesting thing is that I am at peace with Danny's death, not knowing why he died and feeling like it's ok to not have all of the answers.

Do I still grieve for my son? Yes. But the most important thing I have learned is this ... "Even when I don't know or understand God's plan, HE DOES!" Thankfully, I have a dear Father who is watching over me even as I burst into tears in front of Him. When I scream into the night that I don't understand, He does not judge me but loves me just the way I am ... where I am ... for who I am ... and WHOSE I AM.

The biggest difference for me now is that I have a little tape recording in my mind that constantly plays "I am a child of the King. Look at how He cares for the smallest of these, His creatures ... surely He will care for me." And He does. When I am awakened out of a deep sleep at 2:30am now, I know it's because He is talking to me. I do my best to listen. I pray that what I write here helps others to know that He is real. That He is unchanging. That His love is unconditional and remains the same.

Read this, then close your eyes and visualize what I describe here.
     You are standing at a chasm, with God on the other side. You look all around but see no way  to get across to your dear and best friend. The Jesus walks up, kisses your cheek and says "Don't worry my child. My love for you has made a way" and He proceeds to lay down, spreading Himself over the chasm so You can walk on Him to get to the Father. As you walk across, you can't help but notice the nail holes in His hands as His arms are splayed wide. You are struck by the awesome incredibleness of this, the BIGGEST ACT OF LOVE EVER. You walk across to the Father and, falling to Your knees, You beg His forgiveness for every thing you've ever done wrong. Every lie you've ever told. Every soul you've ever injured. Every person you have cut to the core with your tongue. You are moved to ask Jesus "Why? Why were you willing to do this for ME?" His answer is simple yet poignant ... "Because My Father desired a relationship with you but His holiness kept Him from you in the state you were in. Because of the first man's sin, you were lost to Him. That saddened me so I did the only thing I could think of ... I died in your place."

WOW. Even in the grieving process, or perhaps it's really especially through this process, it is imperative that I remember that God has suffered the greatest loss of us all. Through no fault of His, His only Son, suffered and died so that we could be in relationship with Him. Please remember this ... If God didn't want us to know Him, we wouldn't. If He didn't desire a relationship with us, with YOU, Jesus would never have died on the cross.

He loves us all. Every single one of us. No one more than another. We are all equal in His eyes. And for that, I thank God. Ever. Single. Day. Every. Single. Moment.

One-Year Anniversary, Part II

After I wrote this, I realized that it is really an extension (or explanation, if you will) for some of the things that happened in Part I of the one year anniversary story.

Firstly, while my parents were in La Paz in 2006 I was able to take a trip to New Orleans and spend 10 days with Dave. This was the first time we had seen one another since he left back in September of 2005 so it was much needed. We had time to reconnect. I also got to see New Orleans; not at it's best and most colorful (or so I've been told), but 6 months after a devastating hurricane and flood had wiped out most of the old areas in the city. I was there in time for Mardi Gras. I've had people tell me that "New Orleans is a sinful city and Mardi Gras is a dirty party where everyone shows everyone else their body parts", but truthfully? That is not the Mardi Gras I witnessed. 

There was death all around me in New Orleans and I was consistently reminded of my own mortality. Dave drove me through what was left of the Fifth Ward and Lake Ponchartrain. I cried and cried. Everywhere you looked, on the front of the house was a mark, much like a cross. In each section was a number that notated these things: upper left = number of residents; upper right = number of dead bodies; lower left = number of pets; lower right = number of dead pets. These numbers were on every single solitary house throughout the city. It was how the dead were noted before the water receded enough that the bodies could be collected and accounted for. I cried. The entire time we were driving through the city, even through the relatively untouched French Quarter, I couldn't stop. This was not a loud sobbing but more a constant stream of tears running down my face. I didn't even bother wiping them away because more would come as soon as my face was dry anyway.

At one house, one on the lake that had a dock/garage, the power of the water had drove a large power yacht up the floorboards of the 2nd story and out a gigantic picture window area at the front of this massive two story house. The entire house was a loss. I cried more. But then Dave took me to a small Lutheran church he was attending while he was there and I met some beautiful southern people. The pastor and his wife had us over for a bar-b-que. Imagine ... these people had just lost a great deal of their earthly belongings yet they extended hospitality to us. Wow. Talk about radical hospitality. They lived it.

The Parades at Mardi Gras were indeed something to behold. The floats were very imaginative and very creative and the people were the nicest I have met in a very long time. Everyone was personable and chatted. Not a single person talked to us about how bad they had it; in fact, they were all actively trying to help others who had lost more than they had themselves. I have often thought back and wondered *how much of nothing is more than nothing?* I mean, where do you get the strength, faith, grace, love and servant's heart to serve others "less fortunate than you" ...when you ARE the less fortunate?? These people, to the very single person we talked to, never talked about their own loss but said instead things like "Oh my lordie, did you hear about Marie over on C Street? She lost everything but her house. Let's go over there and see how we can help her out." Again, showing God's love for the downtrodden, broken and despondent. How much more like God's love can anything be?

I had a wonderful vacation with Dave. One that was free of paying bills, running a business, caring for a 'tween daughter, daily errands and honey do lists, and mostly free from the weight of always trying to be someone I was not. No one knew me here so I didn't have to be happy. I could cry at the drop of a hat or at absolutely and surrounded by all of this devastation, it didn't seem remotely out of place. In fact, I almost felt at home in New Orleans. I can certainly tell you that is where the healing began. That is the time where several moments of realizations hit all at once and made a gigantic ball of memories that I will never forget. I thought of Danny often and knew that he would have loved New Orleans because he was a pretty colorful young man himself and he would have loved the flamboyant style of Bourbon Street and the French Quarter. I know that I did. The blues bars, the jazz clubs and the food were all as good as I heard they were and I enjoyed them to the fullest. My eyes were opened to how blessed my life truly was. I mean, in the great scheme of things, I had lost a son. Some of these wonderful people had lost everything and everyone that was dear to them. I can only imagine a loss so devastating that it must have left some rooted to the spot and unable to gain any forward momentum. I mean, truly, without family and seemingly without anyone to care, why bother moving forward? Who would there be to move forward for? To? I have thought about this long and hard and, quite frankly, these people will always be the heroes of this story to me. They picked themselves up by the bootstraps and got on with life ... got on with living. Which was more than I was able to do on some days.

Secondly, when I returned from New Orleans, I found myself in a more active and vibrant role as part of the worship team at our wonderful little church. Did that mean I didn't question God? Nope, it sure didn't. Did that mean that I was "all better"? Nope, not even close. Did that mean that I was learning to trust in a God I had thought had forgotten all about me for 25 years? Yes, it did. It meant taking a huge leap of faith and trusting that God wanted to use me in this particular way. Was it hard? Of course, but some rehearsal days were worse than others, just like some Sundays were harder than others. My heart was still missing a piece and God was showing me, in little pieces, that the puzzle could be put back together, it would just be missing a corner piece. My life could still have purpose, if only I'd allow God to use me.

Next, Mother's Day of 2006 came and went without major incident. I say without major incident because what I remember is that we went to church, worshiped and praised a wonderful God, listened to a tremendous teaching and sharing on moms, and then had a brunch. At no time during the teaching time was I in the sanctuary. In fact, I was in the outer terrace area sobbing. And my heartache did not simply vanish overnight because I was walking hand in hand with my best friend Jesus again. In fact, there were days and nights that I didn't even get out of bed. Dave had come home at the end of April, so this enabled me to simply "quit life" or "check out" when I felt overwhelmed. This happened all too frequently. On top of feeling overwhelmed, I lived in constant debilitating fear that C would be taken from me all too soon. In fact, I had to leave all decision regarding where she could go, who with, etc up to Dave. I knew it was irrational, some would say silly, but it was a very real fear nonetheless. I know now that satan planted that fear but at that time of my life, it didn't matter why or how it was there ... it was real to me. 

It was during this time that I believe I came to realize how much Dave truly loved and understood me. Not one time did he question my inability to move and when I was paralyzed by fear of something C was proposing to do, he quickly took over and made decisions for us. I never doubted that he had mine and my families best interest at heart. He is a terrific dad, husband, counselor and my best friend. Forever. I could not have made it this far, even, without him. Second only to Jesus, he is my *earthly rock* and I thank God for him each and every day. Without hesitation. I do not know what I would do without Dave in my life. It is that simple.

One Year Anniversary

February 16, 2006

It seems so wrong to me, on an instinctual level, to call the passing of a certain period of time relating to a death an anniversary. For me, anniversaries have always been pleasant things, much like birthdays. Anniversaries and birthdays are celebrations of milestones in our lives, pleasant times we want to remember. I, personally, have always associated the word "anniversary" with pleasantness. That is, until now.

My sisters (all three of them!) and my folks arrived on or about the 12th of this month for a visit. Dave is still gone to New Orleans, so everyone thinks it is best that I not be alone on this day. I don't really have any feelings about this marking of the passing of time, one way or another.

No matter what, Danny is dead. I can, and in fact must and do go on living, but that does not mean that my life is as it was before. I know this. I am unsure if my family, as much as we love one another, really understands this.

 I have always been somewhat emotionally fragile, and when I was a little girl, would cry at the drop of a hat. If mom or dad just looked at me wrong I would break out in tears.  Imagine with me, if you will, a tall thin champagne flute glass sitting in the middle of a table that is not quite level. When you fill the glass to the very tip top, it just barely fits. But when you turn to walk away, the simplest motion, perhaps the brush of your skirt on the edge of the table, causes the unstable glass to sway and some of the precious liquid to spill over the top. This is what it feels like to be emotionally unsure of who you are and that you are so full of despair and hopelessness that the slightest breeze could possibly tip you over and upset the balance that is now your life.

With my family here in La Paz with me, I find it is infinitely worse. I have only nephews, and 5 of them at that, so they are common topics of conversation. When a sister would mention "Oh, B is doing so and so" or "L is with this really nice young lady" I would break into tears. Did I want this to happen? Well, of course not! But happen it did. What used to be an easy conversation between sisters who were closer-than-this became strained. There was a feeling of sadness and loss in the air. When I lost Danny, he wasn't the only one I lost.

One of the connections that I had always had with my sisters, the *boy* thing, was no longer there. How do I relay to them what is going on with my daughters when every time they bring up their sons I break into tears?? I no longer have the ability to relate about those moments in time. "MJ jumped his dirtbike and got hurt just the other day." I answered "C got a "B" in her Spanish class." I found it difficult, at times impossible, to talk about anything, even small things. Things like going to the mercado (market) for fresh fruit and veggies didn't interest me. I didn't want to walk along the beach anymore. I moped ... a lot ... while they were visiting. I mean, I did what I needed in order to make them comfortable at the b&b. but that was all I could do. I did not have the ability to "buck up" and share in the laughter as it occurred. It was as though I was standing just outside a picture window that looked into the house that was my life but couldn't participate in the moments that made up my life. I was bitter. I don't know that I realized it fully at the time, but I see it now. Don't get me wrong ... I did NOT want anything horrid to happen to my nephews, or my brother-in-laws, or my dad BUT I did NOT want what happened to Danny to happen either.  The question "why me?" reared it's ugly head much too frequently and I would sit on my pity-pot for an unhealthy period of time, until someone would say "Don't you think it's time you dealt with this?" or perhaps a more pointed "You know, Jean, it's been a year and you are still angry and bitter. In order to maintain some sort of motion, you need to keep your forward momentum going. That means that you need to talk to God and get this stuff sorted out before it kills you!"

While the family was there, I had a reason to get out of bed in the mornings. I would get the coffee ready the night before and set it on the timer to be ready for early-morning coffee. Early morning on vacation in La Paz is somewhere between 8 and 10 am, depending. I usually rolled out of bed closer to 10 on those mornings, but no one seemed to care. The family helped getting C off to school on those mornings and for that I was grateful. I really had no interest in who was coming or going, if the doors were open or shut, and whether or not our business survived really ceased to matter to me. 

For a while, anyway, I fell into a "functioning depression" of sorts.  I heard the term a lot from friends "functioning alcoholic" or "recovering alcoholic" and likened myself to a "functioning depressed person". What that meant was that I got up every day and did the things that were expected of me. I showered, I took care of my personal hygiene, I got dressed and then I would walk the dogs on the malecon (boardwalk) by the bay. When we had guests while family was there, I did what I had to do ... no more ... no less ... just enough to get by.  I simply did not care!! 

I remember a friend saying to me "Do you think C misses Danny?" and I spat out angrily "How would I know what she feels? She will NOT talk to me about it!!" Of course C wouldn't talk to me about Danny's death, because each and every single time she tried to that first year, she would be met with a flood of tears. Me sobbing and unable to accurately express why did not alleviate the pain that I know she must have been feeling too. Danny's death quickly became a subject that we just left alone. Buried. Deep. Never to see the light of day. Oh but it did. And when it did it was not pretty...

I was sad all the time. Not just a sort of "oh, today I'm a bit unhappy" kind of sad but a "piece of my heart has been taken out, stomped on and replaced" kind of unhappy. A deep seated, painful kind of unhappy that even the worst person on earth should never feel. The kind of sadness that makes you question your sanity. The kind of sadness that, even when you try, is the hardest thing you've ever had to shake.

Earlier I said that I have always been emotionally fragile, and that is a true statement. In spite of that, however, I am also a survivor. In my family, I have always been "the strong one". Emotional? Yes. Strong? Yes. I do not know how those two work together but they do. No matter what happened, everyone knew that I would be ok because, well, I always WAS. Nothing could stop me from my mantra of "You either do what you set out to do or you die trying." Well, almost nothing.

When you lose a child, the loss is more poignant than any other thing you will ever feel in your life. Life certainly doesn't prepare you for death. At least, not the death of a child ... your child. There is a time that, thinking back, you remember hearing of someone else losing a child and you think "Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry for those parents but thank God it isn't me." Only now, this time, it IS you and you don't know what to do. This is a grief so profound, so utterly unexpected that there is no place to put it.

I don't ever expect to "get over" losing my son. I don't believe there will ever come a day that I will be able to wash my hands of his death. There is no pretty ribbon to wrap around the box named sorrow and tie into a nice neat bow. Death is not pretty. It is, in fact, messy. There is no way to easily explain what happens during this grieving process. I can only tell you that it is different from person to person, and each person will take their own unique time to work their way through the process. For it is that ... a process.

I will tell you that every night, when I had a night terror and recurring dream of the accident, I would wake up crying or even screaming. While Dave was not home, I would call on my precious Heavenly Father to sit with me, and He would. Throughout the entire time of Dave's absence, my best friend Jesus never let me down. He never disappointed. He held me in the circle of His arm's embrace. He showed me His love, once again, in the rising and falling of the ocean's tide. 

When I needed a more "earthly friend", He provided those as well. There were several people who were, and remain to this day, my mainstay and helpers of my faith in Him. Sure I questioned Him and His wisdom. I would be lying, and therefore remiss, if I said otherwise. I knew always, in my heart of hearts, that He knows best. That doesn't mean that there weren't moments in time that I was drastically overwhelmed by this loss. I believe, however, that even that feeling He understood ... and He loved me still ... no matter what. 

I am thankful that Jesus gave His life for me, in a different kind of light. I honestly know, not think or believe, but know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God knows how I feel. That He walked the walk and now He is teaching me, by examples in His Word, how to walk the walk and talk the talk.  I pray, most sincerely, that I do not disappoint.

Christmas 2005

I realize it must seem odd that I would *jump* to Christmas 2005 from the previous post of mid-fall, early winter, but it is the next important date in my journey to the new normal that would become my life and my way of looking at things.

I do not want to dwell on the words that were used in the last post as they were only reminders of the negative emotions that one may feel when a loved one, especially a child, passes through our lives up into the more close relationship with the heavenly Father. 

Danny's birthday was December 15th, so of course pre-Christmas right up through his day of death, February 16th, are the hardest days of the year to deal with. Memories simply flood my heart and soul. My dreams are inundated with birthday parties and Christmas celebratons of the past. 

One especially poignant memory is of a shared birthday party between A and Danny. Both of the kids were small-ish, about 9 and 7 if memory serves and they wanted a "joint" birthday party. Now, Danny was really into matchbox and micro-machine cars while A was super into Barbie. Hmmmm ... what to do ... I know, we'll have a huge Costco sheet cake and split it right down the middle!! Costco rocked the cake and even iced the two halves differently; one with pink frosting and the other with a green frosting with a black road somehow colored onto it for the cars. I remember this as being the largest party the kids ever had, and it ended up being over 30 other kids. What fun was had when they broke the pinata and got that serious sugar high from all of the candy in it. 

The picture, along with several hundred others, is still in my head but in the *storage part* of my brain.

That's another thing I learned to do and do quite well. I sectioned off parts of my brain that remembered certain things and would not allow myself the luxury of looking at those things/memories unless and/or until I would not break into tears doing so.

For instance, I still remember all of the times that Danny would walk in the door and I would ask "You hungry bud?" and he would say (standard reply), "I could eat!" Even now, when I hear that phrase my heart hurts and the tears rush to be shed. Danny was over 6'4" and had two hollow legs, so he was always hungry! 

So December 15th comes and goes, and I am unable to move. I don't even get out of bed. At the beginning of December I knew this day would come. After all, time marches on and the world does not stop because I am grieving. In fact, I come to the full and utterly dis-satisfying feeling that the world does not revolve around me. What?? Honestly all I want now is for the world to stop turning, flowers to stop blooming, the sun to stop shining, voices to stop singing, friends to stop caring and my life to stop living. Remember, I warned you, this is an honest blog and there were, undoubtedly, moments that I didn't care whether or not I was alive. It simply did not matter to me one way or the other.

I found out who my true friends were. People who I never thought cared about me at a "heart-level" or any deeper than surface anyway called to see how I was. Asking if there was anything they could do for me, my heart would hurt because I wanted to say "No, are you blind?? Do you not see that I am dead inside?? That when my Danny died, I died too??"  That is what I wanted to say. But I never did. I simply replied with "Thank you so much for calling. Just showing you know and care means so much to me." 

PLEASE don't get me wrong. The statements that I made and the words I said to these true friends were just as true as the first statements that I could have said but did not. I simply could not be selfish and say what was on my mind and in my heart when I knew that these people were calling because they cared. Whether or not I believed it before this, I believed it now.

Everything I did was rote. We had a business to run, and Dave was in New Orleans (this was right after Hurricane Katrina and he did personal security work), so I focused largely on the business and shoved my feelings of grief deep down inside. I remember sharing them frequently with my good friend but now I wonder what that must have cost her at the time. I mean, there is no way that one person can help another person with the grief process without it costing them something of their own. First off, the time investment is huge. The emotional investment in the grieving person is larger still. One would really have to believe in the person who was/is grieving a huge amount in order to walk this road with her.  I had never really thought, until writing these thoughts down, what my dear friend must have felt after each time she interceded for, prayed with and shared in my pain. Now, thinking on these things, I am humbled and deeply apologetic that I never realized any of this until now. WOW. 

The first Christmas after Danny's death was the toughest one. C and I went and got a bunch of toys and kid's stuff and made stockings for all of the kids at our church. We had a lot of fun doing that and the kids really enjoyed getting them. I cried every time a child would give me a hug that day but, quite honestly, it still hurts my heart a little every little person's hug I get  ... to this day.

I sit here writing this now, and remember wondering what Danny looked like in heaven. I know that he is in heaven playing catch with his great-grampa George and holding his baby cousin Mark in his arms. He never got to meet this cousin ... none of us did. But because they are all in heaven, I choose to believe that God allows them to know one another in this perfect paradise even as they wait for other family members to join them. This is a single choice that I make in order to maintain my sanity and live a somewhat *new normal* kind of life.

Please do not feel it necessary to correct this choice of mine based on Biblical scripture or other reasons you may have. As I said, it is solely my choice to believe this way. Good, bad, right or wrong, this is how I choose to maintain my sanity. 

C and I argued ... a lot. I couldn't shake the feeling that  something horrid was going to happen to her so I became super overprotective. Most of the people she hung out with at this time were missionary kids and/or preacher's kids so I don't remember worrying as much when she was doing things with that particular group of friends. I do remember, however, that when she wanted to do something with her secular friends I was much more harsh and unsure of whether or not she should be hanging out with said friends. I also fell back into the super bad and irritating habit of cussing  ... a lot. I don't think there was any particular catalyst other than the feeling that my life, all of a sudden, was out of my control. When Danny died, there was one thing that I quickly realized ... life is never IN my control, nor is it really mine TO control. I also believe this is the most frustrating realization of my life. 

C and I talk quite a bit about the time we were alone in Mexico and our memories differ greatly. That is another thing that I worry about. I realize now that the loss of Danny was OUR loss, but I know that at the time I treated it as though I was the only on affected by it. For that, I am sorry. 

It continues to amaze me how God works in the life of a believer when there is a question that involved His sovereignty. He quietly shows me His love every day, with every new breath that I am allowed to take. He shows me His creativeness with every wave that I witness breaking on the shoreline at the coast. He shows me His love for vivid colors with every single sunrise and sunset that I am allowed to see. He tells me He loves me with the birdsong every morning at my window. I am reminded of His majesty with every mountain peak, every eagle and every flower that I see coming to blossom in His time. 

"In His time, in His time, He makes all things beautiful in His time ... Lord my life to You I bring, may each song I have to sing, be to You an offering ... in Your time." 

 

Through September 2005

This may be kind of hard to understand, but today I will move ahead in time to Hurricane Katrina hitting landfall in New Orleans, Louisiana on or about September 1, 2005.

My husband is a "law enforcement specialist", with military and civilian tactical training under his belt. With this training, a company called on Dave to go over and help secure some facilities in New Orleans two days after the hurricane hit.  He had to go. We had sunk all of our money into the bed and breakfast and, as a new business, were barely holding on to the business and this money would be the influx needed to make the business a go. So he went.

C and I stayed in La Paz and lived life as normally as possible. C was going to elementary school for the mornings Monday through Friday, but then home-schooled with me in the afternoons. The agreement for the homeschooling was originally that Dave would be in charge of science and social studies courses, while I would do the math and english courses, both doing what we were best at. When Dave went to New Orleans, that all changed and it was just C and I so we made due.

I was hugely depressed and C was afraid to really talk to me about Danny's death. She didn't tell me that at the time, but only much later. She said "I didn't want to talk to you about Danny because even when someone said his name, you would cry ... and I didn't want to make you cry any more." I felt her pulling away from me, but didn't have the strength to pull her back to me. I questioned everything those 8 months, but mostly condemned myself for "just being a bad mom all the way around".  My friends still came and we still spent time together but, let's face it ... NO ONE wants to be around someone who's down and depressed all of the time. It doesn't matter that you can't help how you feel, nor does it matter that you have every right to feel what you do. Some people understand but still keep their distance. It's almost as though people, in general, are afraid that if you open up to them about how you feel and everything, if you even mention the word "death", something would happen to someone that they love. And who, really, is willing to take that chance?

I have heard, my entire life, that "through God all things are possible" and I truly wanted to believe it. But although that's a mostly true statement, it's not 100% true. Let me explain, if I may.  

I do not  believe it is possible for God to change someone's heart, if they are not ready for the change. If a person doesn't want to see something God is trying to show them, they won't. Down to the last person, it remains in our control and within our free will to determine whether we believe God will move forward in our lives with every change that happens.  Some people get angry and say "There can't be a God or this would have never happened." I get that. I disagree but, you see, I understand because I've been there. Others just say "But they were such good parents!" ?? Never have figured out how or why that would affect the outcome of a young person's life. 

Really, it all comes down to one single, simple statement. We often look up to God as Christ-followers and say "why me?" .... what we should really be thinking is "why NOT me?" I realize that in this day and age, suffering is viewed quite differently than it was in biblical times. I also realize that because God sent His only Son to cover for my sins, I have no right, not a single iota, to ask God to give me any less than He has had to bear for me.

I love God but perhaps, in the corners of my heart, I loved Danny more.  Maybe I loved him too much. Maybe this was God's way of getting my attention.  At the very core of my being, sometimes I allow myself to believe satan's lies and believe the last statement to be true. I mean, who better to "blame" than myself for Danny being gone?? After all, I can't blame God, right?? So, it had to be because of me. Only putting that down in writing did I just now see how conceited it would be to believe and how much smaller my faith in God and His plan than I ever recognized until this very second.

Everyone says they want the truth but I am confident that most are not ready for it. You see, raw truth, uncensored, is not a pretty thing. There are so many things that a parent feels at a child's death that most people wouldn't want to put on paper or see in writing. Here are but a few:
     Self loathing
     Guilt
     Faithlessness
     Empty heart
     Constantly tear-strained face
     Anger
     All-enveloping sadness
     Unworthiness
     Depression - mind and heart numbing if you're lucky
     Lost and alone

These are just a few of the descriptive words that immediately come to mind when I think back on that time.