33 Packets

September 3, 2008 by Rosemary.

I woke up this morning and rolled over to look at the clock…it was 7:23.  How many times in the past sixteen years had I jolted awake at exactly 7:23?  Those three numbers used to take my breath but as the years passed, they came to be a sign from Drew and Jeremiah that they were near.  What was their message this morning?  

Most of my Labor Day was a labor of love as I worked on bereavement packets for my Fellow Travelers.  This morning, I realized that I had thirty-three packets ready to be lovingly filled by Mary Ann Combs and Barb Brandenburg, two special earth angels.  Thirty-three is another significant number for me.  Drew and Jeremiah lived a total of thirty-three years.  The church bells here at St. Thomas Episcopal in Beattyville tolled thirty-three times that July morning as we followed the caskets of Drew and Jeremiah up the hill from the funeral home to the church. 

Drew and Jeremiah sat with me as I wrote each note for these thirty-three packets.  They felt my sorrow as I wrote to the Wilson family in Bermuda, the Pohl famly in Illinois, Sgt Jason Swiger’s mother in Maine, the Phelps family in Montana who had also lost two sons…on and on.  Drew and Jeremiah’s message this morning came from a spiritual realm but was so real it gave me cold chills.  Their approval washed over me like a wave. 

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Remembering Lida’s son Clint

August 17, 2008 by Rosemary.

 Dear Rosemary,

I received your grief package and am giving it to a psychologist friend.  She is moving to Louisiana and will be working as head of a grief clinic.

We lost our son Clint last year on September 16th.  His anniversary and birthday are coming up.  His birthday is October 23, 1970.  This has truly been a hard year for our family.  We talk of him all the time, he in constantly in our hearts and minds. Please remember us at this time in your prayers.

Also, I am putting the butterfly sticker on my car today.  We see butterflies all the time and from the first day they have reminded us Clint is with us.  Also hummingbirds, chipmunks and doves. The day he died we had a large group sitting on our patio and 2 chipmunks came right in the middle and just sat there, did not move.  Doves also do this for us.  Clint loves animals.

God Bless,

Lida Davis

I would like for you to put this on your website to share.  I couldn’t figure out how to get on the guest book.

Lida, we will all remember Clint and those of you who mourn his passing as angel day draws near—-Rosemary

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Another blog by Lisa

July 31, 2008 by Rosemary.

July 31, 2008

Thanks so much for giving me the feeling that I can just write out all these different emotions and send them, it is kind of freeing when I hit that “send” button.

 

 

2 steps forward, many back

 

So, seems feel I am doing better, you know, handling it all well, then - blam!

I have never been good at feeling feelings, especially bad ones.  Now, we are about to go on another round of “firsts” since Jessie died.  School will be starting here soon.  Melanie is so mixed about beginning kindergarten.  I understand, I am mixed about it too. 

 I am so mad some days that I won’t be buying Jessie her new backpack, new shoes (that she would wear out by New Years, or grow out of), supplies, etc.  Then my mood switches to smiling because I think of all the wonderful, but sometimes stressful times we picked out all that stuff and all the time it took for her to decide what her backpack would be for that year, changing her mind back and forth! It makes me laugh, then I cry, realizing that that will never happen for her and I again. 

My mood the past couple of weeks has gone from feeling okay about handling it all to feeling almost incapable of moving, of doing anything that I need to do. I do my cake orders, but find it hard to do.  I still exercise, but have no motivation.  I exercise because my body feels so good after I do, the stress is less and I feel it is a good outlet, though it is so hard to get started, I try to do it anyway.

My jeans are so tight, you know, the ones I was so thrilled to be fitting into comfortably, and looking forward to the next size down?  I am disappointed with myself for that.  I find that I don’t care if I put on nice clothes and makeup, I am fine with my hair up, a hat on and stretchy workout clothes.  I just don’t like all this!  BUT, I am told I have to go through it, there is no other way. 

I wish there was a manual for all this, but everyone has to do it their own way.  When people say to me ” I understand”, I want to say so badly, “no you don’t!” but I just nod my head.  I have some telling me it is great for me to stay busy, I have others telling me to slow down and take time to feel it all.  I have people look at me and say they don’t know how I am even getting up everyday, because they certainly couldn’t if they had gone through this, and I want to say “yes, you would, because you have to, there are others looking to you.” 

People ask Tom how I am and he says I am handling it all very well.  Then I talk to him and say   “yes, in front of people I am a rock, when no one is around I melt into a puddle of goo.”  I have found that I am quite a great actress. 

Some days I pray for strength, some days I don’t.  Some days I don’t want strength I just want to quit hurting. Some days I want to crawl under the covers and never come out again - and then I hear my sweet Melanie’s voice, asking me to help her with something, or telling me how much she misses her sister and I know she needs me to listen - so I listen, hold her, and try to make her life now as normal as it was.  There is my strength, I know God is using her to keep me going. 

Today, I chose to write instead of eat about what I am feeling.  I am glad for that, kind of. 

 

Lisa’s words are so poignant.  We all become great actresses and actors, don’t we?   Rosemary

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Lisa Rousseau’s Blog

July 31, 2008 by Rosemary.

July 28, 2008 

Just another blog of mine, I know you can relate.  This is a hard time of the year for me right now with Back to School.  Any advice on how you dealt with it?  Thanks, Lisa

MY RAINBOW

Last weekends conference was great. I really began to dread it the closer it got, not knowing what it would be like, but the last day, I didn’t want it to end. It was so comforting to be with around 1300 other people who understood my pain. When they talked, they said how I felt, they said things that made me know I wasn’t really going crazy as I feel I am sometimes. Then, it was back to the “real” world. It was good to get home and see Melanie and Tom. I did miss them while I was gone, but I needed that so badly. Mom and I had a lot of time to talk and be together. That helped too.

So this past week, I began with feeling pretty strong. But today, I did the BIG sobbing thing again. I really feel I am getting better and then I just lose it! I did find out at the conference that it is “normal” (finding out what a new normal means).

School is about to start. It is time for shopping for shoes, backpacks, supplies, etc. It is hitting me HARD! Melanie will be going full time for her first time. She is mixed about it. Her Jessie will not be at the school with her as they have always planned. She has days she is excited and days she seems to dread it. I really wish people would not ask her daily if she is excited about kindergarten. I believe she will do well. But, I am having a hard time knowing this year, we will not be buying these things for Jessie to begin her 4th grade year.

I am not really feeling social lately, but today I went to the riverpark for our “sparknic” with the chattanooga chew chews team get together.(Sparkpeople website)  It was nice to meet the other people. I didn’t find myself as cheerful as I was before Jessie died. I have more trouble finding things to say. I am not as comfortable as I used to be. But, I did make myself go and I am glad I did.

On the way home, I began to cry, A LOT! I pulled into the parking lot of Jessie’s karate school and sobbed and talked and sobbed and gave myself a headache. Thank goodness it was closed today.

When I had cleared my eyes enough to go, I drove toward home. I began to cry hard again, and I looked right in front of me in the sky (not the best thing to do when driving and crying) and there was a beautiful rainbow. We haven’t had a drop of rain today, and none in sight. It reminded me of how Jessie loved rainbows and how she would see amazing things in nature that we, as adults, would be too busy to see. The way the world worked just amazed her. I try to see things more now the way she saw them. The rainbow, on this non rainy day soothed me. In a way I felt it was her, trying to calm me. Some would call me crazy for thinking that way - but I have come to not care what others will think of me when I am having a day like today. I still do not like to let others see me cry, but I don’t have much choice somedays. It happens sometimes when I don’t want it to.

So now, after my big letting out of emotions today, I do have a headache, but I feel somewhat cleansed. I needed that, I have not been taking time to do that as often as I should. It is hard to caregive and take care of myself too. But, I feel that Melanie is feeling free to express herself and her feelings. I feel I am helping her with this and that helps me.

So, we start a new week, with finding our new normal. It is not easy, but we will do it. One small step at a time with support, prayers and God’s help.

Note from Rosemary:  Lisa has agreed that I can post the correspondence she and I share along the way.  I know her feelings mirror those of many other bereaved parents.

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A Birthday for Jordan

July 15, 2008 by Rosemary.

Today is July 15th, 2008….twenty-seven years ago I was blessed with the birth of my third son, Jordan Cox Smith.  Our oldest son Drew was seven and our middle son Jeremiah was four when Jordan entered our lives.  Jordan was eleven when they both left ours.

Luther and I are not with Jordan today to celebrate his birthday.  He is in Charleston, SC and we are missing him here in Beattyville, KY.  Hopefully he is out with friends tonight having the time of his life.  He deserves it.  He has earned it by the life he has led since that day in 1992 when his life shifted forever.

 I send Jordan my love tonight across the miles.  We are so lucky we have him in our lives.  Many of our friends are now childless mothers and fathers…Dinah…Becky…Jim…Gam.  Why are we the lucky ones to have a surviving child?  Have we lived our lives since 1992 in a way that honors Drew and Jeremiah?  In the words of our friend Elaine Stillwell, have we been able to “sing their song”?  

Visions of Jordan celebrating his birthday tonight with his brothers, their wives and maybe several nieces and nephews crowd my mind.  Most days I can stave off these thoughts.  Special days make this more of a mind game.  I choose to be thankful tonight for the time I had with Drew and Jeremiah and the times I will have with Jordan in the future. 

Happy Birthday Jordan.

Love,

 Mom       

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The Love of a Friend

July 15, 2008 by Rosemary.

The following letter was written to Linda Harkness by her friend Stephanie Crowe.  This letter of love and support is one that speaks to every parent who has lost a precious child.  Stephanie has given me permission to share her thoughts with the readers of my blog.  For those of you in the darkness of grief, read Stephanie’s words every day.  She is also speaking to you. 

My very Dearest Linda,

Since we have spoken several times in the last week, I wanted to write some of my thoughts on some of your statements. I definitely don’t claim to have any answers whatsoever, but I’m hoping that in weighing your words and trying to put them in perspective for myself, that my perspective might add to your own to some day offer some sense of hope and peace; or if not anything so great as those, just some food for thought.

First, like you and so many others, I would give anything to go back to Feb. 21, 2008 and rewrite history. Unfortunately, all of the “what if’s” and “I wish’s” will not alter the tragedy that occurred Feb. 22, and I’m so very sorry that you and your family are now having to rewrite your future as opposed to how you had previously envisioned it.

One of  the things that has made an impression on me when we’ve talked, is the fact that you keep referring to yourselves as a family of four now. My feeling is that the Harkness family I know, will forever be a family of five. Kristin Marie Harkness, though not physically here, continues to exist for all of us and will always be a member of your family. You may no longer need five place settings at dinner, or five movie tickets at the theatre, but Kristin will always remain a part of the Harkness family. I know you realize this, and saying it in these terms doesn’t change the fact that you can’t see her, speak to her, or spend time with her, but it’s another of my hopes that if you could continue to refer to yourselves as a family of five, the lack of Kristin’s presence may someday become less oppressive.

Obviously, I can’t imagine losing one of my children, and although you have lost Kristin, I’m not sure you can imagine how you would feel if it were Jessica or Eric. I know you had a special bond with Kristin, and she is your baby, your Poopsie! I also know you DO NOT wish it had been one of your other children instead. My hope in making the following comparison is to show you what and for whom you have to live and thrive.

If, God forbid, Jessica were no longer with us here on earth, I sincerely feel you would be in the same place you are now emotionally. Jessica is your first born. She’s the child you’ve known the longest, the one you have loved for the longest period of time. You ached for her during her middle school trauma, during her high school break up, and during her first year of college. You’ve experienced all of her trials and tribulations right along with her, and still continue to do so. I’ve seen the pride and joy in your eyes and have heard it in your words throughout the years when you have spoken of her.

Losing Eric (again, God forbid, anything would have or will ever happen to him) would have caused you the same type of pain. He is your middle child, your only son, and also a source of great pride and joy for your entire family. His character, charisma, ambition, and integrity has always been apparent, and is rare in someone so young. Even when I met him as a fifth grader, he stood out as an upstanding, incredibly well-raised, respectful young man.

Both Jessica’s and Eric’s character is shining through during this horrific time. The fact that both of them are willing to uproot their lives and move closer to home for you and Tom and for one another, is a true testament to how they have been raised.

You and Tom have been excellent parents to all three of your children. I know you both have guilt for some of the decisions made with Kristin and on her behalf, and I also know how guilt can fester and become an extremely heavy burden — a burden so incredibly heavy at times that you may think you can’t live with it, but please know that from where I stand, and I know from speaking to others many feel the same, you have always exhibited excellent parenting skills. You’ve both always been available for your children, you’ve been involved, you’ve been disciplinarians when the circumstances warranted it, and you’ve been the greatest cheerleaders and advisors when needed. You have instilled in your children a sense of morality that is incomparable to many other children their ages.

No matter the source or the content, I truly realize that words will never heal your incredible pain, but, as I said, I just wanted to offer some perspective on the incredible blessings(Jessica and Eric) who are still very much a part of your lives. I do realize your lives will never be the same as you have known them or as you had planned them, but with the strength, love, and support of your family and others, I hope you will see that they are still very much worth living.

Linda, a word you use quite often now is “never.” Another hope I have is that in some way you can open your heart, mind, and soul to the possibilities left yet to unfold in your life. Please live for Kristin who can no longer do so for herself.

I love you all and sincerely wish I could relieve you of your pain.

Steph

---

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Sweet Auburn

May 18, 2008 by Rosemary.

For the past fifteen years, Mother’s Day has been a hard day for me.  All that changed this past Sunday when our documentary, “Space Between Breaths” won the award for Best Documentary at the Sweet Auburn International Film Festival in Atlanta, Georgia. 

Sweet Auburn selected our film as one of eight documentaries to be screened at their film festival from May 7th to May 11th during SpringFest in the historic Auburn Avenue area of Atlanta.  Initially our film was scheduled for screening on Saturday, May 10th.  Cindy Bullens, along with Dinah and Jim Taylor, made plans to join us in Atlanta for the festival.  Cindy’s contribution to our film was twofold; she wrote the score and shared the story of her red-headed spitfire Jessie.  Dinah and Jim Taylor have been our mentors in grief since our sons became angels.  Their son Young Jim had to be bragging in heaven after he saw their insightful interview for the film. 

Less than two weeks before the festival, we were notified that there had been a schedule change for our screening.  Len Gibson, the director of the festival said the committee had decided our film should be shown on Mother’s Day “due to the subject matter.”  Our only regret with the change was that Cindy would not be able to be with us.  Prior committments with her new band The Refugees made it necessary for her to fly back to Maine early on Sunday.  Dinah and Jim were able to rearrange their schedule so they met Luther, Fong and me in Atlanta on Saturday afternoon.

During Saturday night, tornadoes pounded the Atlanta area.  I slept right through the storms.  We had been up late the night before sharing stories of Drew, Jeremiah and Young Jim with our friends.  What a joy to be with friends who understand your need to talk about your children who have passed.  Don’t you love being in a safe place with friends who do not act like there is an elephant in the room?  My dear friend Becky Greer shared the poem, “The Elephant in the Room” with me many years ago.  Believe me, I knew the concept.  I had just never heard it verbalized in that way. 

Sunday dawned with the promise of an awakening of spirit.  Would our documentary screening be an affirming experience for the audience?  Would the mothers identify with the other mothers in the film, mothers like Tessie Hunter and Donna Bellman?  Would my dear friend Dinah Taylor have a good Mother’s Day.  For those of you who have seen our film, the clip where Dinah haltingly tells of the Mother’s Day when a man at her church withdrew a flower from her is imprinted on my consciousness.  She deserves better.  Young Jim wants better for her.

My family has always supported me whether I was tourning for my book, “Children of the Dome” or now screening our documentary.  Sweet Auburn in Atlanta was no exception.  Dr. Jim Cox is my father’s only brother.  He and my Aunt Inez have always been like second parents to me and my younger brothers Gary and Bill.  My first thought when Drew and Jeremiah were killed was that I had to call Uncle Jim.  He would know how we all were going to face this terrible tragedy.  Well, Uncle Jim and Aunt Inez have not left my side over the past fifteen years even though they too have been through a life-threatening health situation.

The Cox family came to Atlanta in full force for the screening of “Space Between Breaths.”  Only my cousin’s wife, Judy Cox had not seen the film at least on one other occasion.  Uncle Jim and Aunt Inez drove down from Greensboro, Georgia.  My cousin Randy and his family came from Canton, Georgia.  Bill, my youngest brother holds the Cox family record for screenings, quite a surprise really.  Bill had been the one who avoided most family gatherings when he was young.  Now he seemed to enjoy being around all of us.  My brother Gary and his wife Karen live in Columbus, Indiana, much too far to make the screening. 

Diane Cooper is my twin…not physically but in a spiritual sense.  Bereaved mothers are automatically sisters.  We know each other’s hearts.  Their children become our children.  Diane Cooper’s twins are David and Reid.  Reid is a junior in high school at The McCallie School (another connection) and David is an angel.  David knows Drew and Jeremiah, I am sure of it.  Diane and I think alike.  We do not sit back and wait.  We are the ”doers.”  Diane drove down from Chattanooga to be with us for the screening.  Diane breaths life into any situation.  I watched her as she spoke to every person who attended the screening.  Like Dinah, she cares about each and every person she meets.  They both are my role models.

Glen and Judy Cummins are bereaved parents I met while speaking at a Compassionate Friends meeting in Memphis after my book was published in 2000.  Their son Scott was a U.S. Army pilot who died in a helicopter accident.  The Cummins and their son are a vital part of our documentary.  As the credits are rolling at the end of the film, photo after photo fade in and out of parents holding photos of their children.  Scott Cummins and his loving parents are one of the families featured in this section of the film.  This was the first time they had seen the film since they had a prior committment at the premiere of the film on May 31, 2007 in Lexington, KY.  It was such a blessing to us that Glen and Judy came to be with us at Sweet Auburn.

Tim, Irene, Rachel and Erin Harkness rounded out the group of special friends and family that supported us by their presence at the Sweet Auburn Film Festival.  We had never met this family although we had spoken on the phone.  Tim and Irene’s precious niece, Kristin Harkness had passed on February 22, 2008.  Tim had called me shortly after Kristin’s death and asked me to contact his brother Tom and his wife Linda.  I sent packets to Kristin’s parents, her brother Eric, her sister Jessica as well as Tim and his family.  About a week after sending the packets, I made my first call to Linda Harkness.  She and I connected immediately.  We began talking on the phone almost on a daily basis.  We shared our grief…we cried together…we eventually were able to laugh together.  When I mentioned to Linda that our film had been selected for the Sweet Auburn Film Festival in Atlanta, she said she would see if Tim and his family could attend.  What a surprise when we found out that Tim, Irene and the girls would be coming to the screening.  Meeting them on Sunday was such a blessing to me.  I pray our film was a blessing for them.

The screening of our documentary was emotional for me.  Although I have worked on this film for over six years, there is never a time I watch any portion of it that I am not moved by the courage of those who were interviewed.  They bared their souls for me and for anyone else who watches the film.  I share the award we won that night for Best Documentary with each and every one of them.

This was a memorable Mother’s Day for me.  Dinah Taylor sent me a note after the weekend and she said, “I can truly say that this is the best Mother’s Day I have had since Jim’s death.”  That one statement made everything I have done for this film worthwhile.   

     

    

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FOREVER

May 12, 2008 by Rosemary.

Forever

It doesn’t bring her back.

Nothing.

I miss you more than you would have ever imagined.

I miss the laughter.

I miss the jokes.

No one else understood the jokes.

You did. That’s all that mattered.

Now then, why can’t I understand?

Come back.

Come back.

I need you.

How can the person who brought the most laughter and joy to my life not be here?

You were here just two months ago, and before you left I talked to you.

Only six days prior.

What is it?

Why don’t I understand?

The times you visit in my dreams are now what I look forward to the most.

Those nights are the happiest.

Now.

Not before.

Before, I knew you were here

And I loved you.

I loved knowing I could call.

Whenever I wanted.

Knew you were not far away.

And knew you were coming to see me in just a few days.

What happened?

Where are those days now?

Forever unfulfilled.

Forever in my memory.

Forever I will love you.

Forever I will miss you.

Forever.

Forever seems so far.

Forever I will pray to see you again.

Forever.

Forever will you think of me?

Can you?

I hope so.

I hope for forever to be quite fast.

I don’t think it will be.

I hope anyway.

Will you watch me?

Will you stay with me?

Will you visit me, or see me forever?

Then why can’t I see you?

Life is not fair.

That’s what they always say.

Then maybe…

Maybe that’s why yours is over.

Over so now you have fair times.

You know fair and happiness now.

I hope.

You do.

Don’t you?

Or why else did you go?

Are you laughing now?

I hope you are.

I heard laughter makes you live longer.

But not for you.

You laughed everyday.

So where have you gone?

Why?

But you laughed!

What.

What will make it ok?

I’ve been waiting to know.

I never will.

I miss you.

I need you.

I love you.

I will continue to hope.

I will.

Forever.

 

 

Lovingly written on April 24, 2008 by Erin Harkness in memory of her cousin Kristin Harkness who passed on February 22, 2008.

 

Kristin Harkness

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Lisa Rousseau’s Blog

April 29, 2008 by Rosemary.

 Today, while working on the landscape, I discovered something. I was on the phone taking a break, talking to my Mom. I was fussing about how the landscape takes so many steps, most of them making the landscape look worse, before you ever get to the best, beautiful complete end of the job. I went on to say that there really never is an “end” because the stuff is always growing, needing weeded, and watered. I told her I wish I could just skip all this working through the junk part, the part that doesn’t look good, and just automatically have it all done and pretty.

Well, as I spoke about it, I realized that it is the same way with going through all these emotions I am having about Jessie’s death. I really don’t want to feel it all- it hurts, it is ugly at times, I have to really work at this to get in there to what I feel. If I don’t, it will grow ugly weeds inside me - some that will probably change who I am forever. Part of this event has already changed me, it is inevitable, but I don’t have to be bitter forever, or lose hope forever.

Right now, there is such a broad spectrum of emotions going on. It seems the feelings are more real than ever before. I want it to just pass on by and be over, but I know it doesn’t work that way. It is my choice. I can deal with it, try to grow the best I can through it all and be healthy for myself and my family that is still here - or I can wither - which will effect me and them too.

I somedays feel I don’t have the strength to go through it, but seems I get a nudge and I do it. That nudge could be strength from God, Jessie’s spirit wanting me to be the fun, happy Mom she always knew, or the look on Melanie’s face when she looks at me and tells me how much she loves me. It can nudge me on when Tom tells me he is proud of the way I am handling all this. It can be the counselor telling me she is proud of me too- and to do what I need to - whether it be cry, scream, beat on a pillow or punching bag, or write in my journal - as long as I feel it helps. That nudge can be a friend dropping me a line of encouragement, or people talking to me about Jessie instead of turning away.

If I continue on this path, as hard as it is, I believe I will make it. Somedays I don’t even want to get up, but I do. Somedays I don’t want to take care of myself, but I do.

Written April 29, 2008 by Lisa Rousseau, mother of Jessie Anna Starnes who died on March 19, 2008 at age nine from an aneurysm

Lisa agreed to let me post her blog on this site because she thought it might help someone else - Rosemary Smith

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Drew’s Birthday

April 27, 2008 by Rosemary.

      Today is April 27, 2008, my son Drew’s thirty-fourth birthday.  How is that possible?  Drew will always be eighteen and Jeremiah fifteen.   They have not gone on to college. They have never married and had children.  They remain teenagers who left for a concert one beautiful day in July of 1992 and never returned. 

     As the years have gone by Drew and Jeremiah have gotten closer and closer to me.  I know where they are.  They obviously know where we are at all times.  Luther and I continue to be amazed at how they let us know they are always with us.  

     On April 17th, we flew to Denver, Colorado, to go to the Shaka Franklin Foundation annual luncheon held by our friends Les and Marianne Franklin.  Those of you who have seen our documentary, “Space Between Breaths” will be familiar with Les and Marianne.  Their work with suicide prevention and the youth of Denver has been remarkable.  Several other couples from our Fellow Travelers group flew to Colorado for the luncheon.  Artie and Eleanor Foss came from New Jersey.  Gam and Becky Greer joined us from Kentucky.  Joe and Ann Kechter from Evergreen, Colorado, rounded out our table of eight for the luncheon. 

     After the luncheon, Joe and Ann Kechter asked us if we would like to go to Columbine High School in nearby Littleton.  Their son Matthew was one of the students killed at Columbine on April 20, 1999.  I was the only one of the group who had been to Columbine.  Our film crew had been allowed to film at Columbine two years ago for our documentary.  As we walked the halls of Columbine nearly nine years to the day Matthew and eleven other students and one teacher were killed, we all felt the presence of angels.  I had cold chills all over my body as we walked between the rows of books in the new Hope Columbine Library.  School was out for the day so no students were around, just those of us paying our respects to those thirteen who had tragically died that fateful day in 1999.

      The Kechters then walked with us to the new Columbine Memorial dedicated on September 21, 2007 in Clement Park.  The Memorial has an inner Ring of Remembrance that has a circle of stories.  Thirteen individual narrative remembrances are etched into individual stones for each of the victims of the Columbine school shooting.  Our group stood with Matthew Kechter’s parents that beautiful Colorado morning and through tears read the words his mother Ann had so lovingly written in his memory.  We slowly moved from one stone tablet to another taking time to reflect on each of the victims. 

      The outer Ring of Healing has a variety of general text gathered from interviews with students, teachers and the injured and their families.  I will never forget watching a young boy move from tablet to tablet that day.  Like everyone else, he was silent and respectful.  We all were in a sacred place. 

     The Kechters took us to a wonderful restaurant that night near their home in the mountains surrounding Denver.  While there, we had the first communication from our sons.  The restaurant was in a large log structure situated beside a beautiful mountain stream.  We had ordered our food and were deep in conversation when I heard the strains from the song, “Every Breath You Take” in the background.  None of us had been aware of any music at all in the restaurant to that point.  Here we were in Colorado with six of our dearest friends and our song was being played in the restaurant!   Everyone knew that our eight precious angels were letting us know they were with us. 

     Our group drove from Denver the following day up to Breckenridge, Colorado,where we had rented a house in the mountains for a few days.  After settling into the house, we all went back into town for lunch and a walk around the streets.  Luther and I had not been back to Breckenridge for over twenty years.  We used to ski there every winter with all of our sons.  Drew, Jeremiah, Jordan and Fong had all learned to ski at Beaver Run in Breckenridge.  Luther and I longed to find our favorite restaurant.  After all the years that had gone by, we could not remember the name of the restaurant.  We only had a general idea of where it was located.  Well, we had no luck that afternoon finding it.  No one we asked could remember any restaurant named Silver something.  Well, we went back to the house and decided to make dinner reservations for that night.  The family that owned the house we were renting left a  note suggesting some of their favorite restaurants.  We took their suggestion and made reservations at the first restaurant on the list.

      Since we had arrived at the restaurant early, we all decided to split up and browse through some of the quaint shops in Breckenridge.  Luther saw a hat he liked in the window of one store on Main Street so he and I went in.  Just as we entered, I heard our song come on the intercom system of the store.  We had now heard ,”Every Breath You Take” on two consecutive nights less than a week before Drew’s birthday and in a place so memorable to our family.  I burst into tears.  So many emotions came flooding into my body.  How many times had the five of us walked these same streets?  Had we ever come into this same hat shop?  At one point, I knew Drew and Jeremiah had the same hat Luther had seen in the window.  I think that was what drew him to that specific shop.  Well, Luther and I stood absolutely still as other customers moved around us.  Can you imagine what the young female clerk thought when I went up to pay for Luther’s hat with tears glistening in my eyes?  

      We met up with our friends and made our way to the restaurant.  We told everyone that our song had come on again just minutes before.  Naturally I was in front as we entered the restaurant.  That will not surprise anyone reading this who knows me well.  To my shock, this restaurant was our favorite restaurant from years ago.  We were seated at a round table that was exactly the same one we had sat around on our last trip to Breckenridge.  Our Tilley’s (nothing Silver in the name at all) had been sold years ago and the owners had changed the name.  Still there was the lovely old bar and stained glass insert in the tin ceiling from long ago.   As the noisy crowd drowned out most of the conversation at our table, I was lost in the past.  How cherished are the memories of our years we had with Drew and Jeremiah.  How blessed we are to still have Jordan and Fong in our lives.  The six other bereaved parents sitting at that table were like family to us now.  Sitting there I was with them but in fact years away.  Drew and Jeremiah had been with us on every step of this trip.  It was wonderful but bittersweet.  I am glad we made the trip.  I am glad Drew and Jeremiah let me know they were with us.  Happy Birthday my precious Drew!!

Love,

Mom   

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