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JOURNAL ARCHIVES PAGE THREE

NOTE: By this time I had begun to post less journal entries as I was feeling more strongly that maybe I had said about all there was to say and I was also afraid that the personal nature of these writings may lead some to believe I was more interested in having a public forum to lament our predicament instead of as I had said before, try to make people see how much we loved our son and how his passing had left us devastated and lost. I began to write letters to Christopher both here at the computer and also when I would go to Newcomer's to visit with him. You may find many of these entries out of sequential order as many times I would post a new entry below a previous posting due to the nature of the material ahead of the new posting. Many times I posted something and then deleted it after just a few days which will explain large gaps in the dates of the writings.

April 9^th

As I sat with Christopher this afternoon, I had with me a package of various pamphlets and newsletters I had been collecting and reading when I go to be with him. Compassionate Friends is a support group for parents that have lost children. We are on their mailing list by some mechanism unknown. It seems that in the exclusive fraternity we now belong to, word of our tragedy made its way to them and we have been regularly receiving the mailing.

They have been of some help to me and I wanted to post some of the poems and short quotes that have struck a chord in my heart. Reading these as I visit my son reminds me of his life and his love and of the long road the three of us have ahead. The poems are very poignant and have a lot of truth to them and in our emotional state; they are comforting and reassuring to some degree. Although in time, I may intellectually buy into all they say, for now, they allow me to ponder the possibilities of my son’s new life and of the ways he may be trying to reach us.

To say we will never be the same is to understate the obvious. To concretely sit and ponder what it actually means is an impossibility for those that know us. We will be recognizable only in the physical sense. The three of us realize that the journey we are beginning is understood by us alone; and alone is how we will proceed.

We have and will be left behind, as others cannot wait for us to catch up. We will not heal fast enough for many and others will pass us by for fear of being dragged down by our weight. As the laws of the African plains dictates: those that are wounded are left to their own fate. We have a member that has fallen and we cannot leave him behind. We will stay with him and comfort him and if that means we must be left, then we will stay. In time, we may catch up and be stronger, but for now, holding Chris in our hearts and being with him is all that matters

April 14th 5 am

We still suffer the after effects of Chris’ birthday: the sleepless nights, waking every couple of hours, more frequent waves of grief, more memories coming back, the feelings of forlorn- all of it. The week unto itself has been horrible, Kay’s workload is tremendous and mine is the same. Neither of us wanted to get out of bed Monday morning as we knew the week would be long. I didn’t get finished until after 8 Monday night and it was rainy and cold, making my mood the same. I stopped at the Chip Shot, a tiny hole in the wall by the warehouse I have been making trips to, more frequently than I should. The place was packed and people were having fun and it was loud and as I dragged myself to the bar, all I could think about was how alone I felt in this bar filled with gaiety and celebration.

Kay didn’t make it out of bed Monday and for the first time in a long while, I too felt like joining her and crawling back under the covers. It hurts me so to see her laying there fetal, that all too familiar tired look on her face. Sunday had taken all she had to get though the day and couple that with her upcoming week of work, by morning she was already exhausted. I was half done with my day when she called to say she was just going in to work

So we are at Thursday this morning and I was lying there thinking of al the things that have happened this week, none of them good, wondering if I have the strength to do it again. We have Sunday marking the four-month mark, two back-to-back weekends, and it just goes on, we have no choice.

We are not in control of our lives. Something came up last week as kay and I sat on the deck and I cant even remember now what it was. She was fighting stubbornly as usual, about something and I told her we had no control, that we are on a ride not of our choice and that she had better just get used to it and accept it. We can’t change what happened and we will not decide our fate now. I think part of her reluctance in accepting what has happened is the fact that she believes she can control all things within her realm. It’s her personality. She's so damn stubborn and those qualities have not made this easier on her, and in fact, have magnified all that has happened.

I have resigned myself and accepted our loss. It does not sit well with me and I still have trouble believing we are here, still have trouble believing Chris is gone, my boy. It hurts so badly and when I lay in bed like I was this morning and he is the first thing that comes to my mind, its something I cannot describe. And when I think of all the people we know and their kids that are Christopher’s peers, his friends past and present, and I think of their families, all I can think and feel is how “intact” they are, and sometimes I feel jealous. They are whole and nothing has changed in their lives, their tomorrows will likely be the same, as they expect. Ours will not and have not been, thus we have no control.

I was thinking the other day while sitting with Chris amongst all the cards and flowers commemorating his birthday, I hope I haven’t hurt his cause or hardened peoples hearts toward him because of my journal writings. I realized the other day that I may have gone on too much about being alone and of how no one understands what is happening to us. But it was not my intent to suggest that friends and relatives do not feel badly for us or that they do not care or grieve for us. We know they do and there are many that do not call or write but carry us in their hearts daily. I have always just tried to convey how alone we feel and how even though we may have all these people caring about us and praying for us, in the end, it is just us having to figure out how to carry on. No one else can tell us or do it for us. We alone carry the burden of that chore.

We are trying but it is so difficult on a daily basis, to get up, know our lives are forever changed and not for the better, and still accept the fact that we have to find ways to convince ourselves that life is worth living. We cannot believe Chris’ death was a good thing- it was not. And no one can convince us that somehow it was for the better- it was not. Our son is gone, never to return and nothing in the last four months makes us believe our lives will get better. Try getting out of bed every day knowing all that, and then if you can do that, try going to work and believing that means something. Then if you can do that, try sitting in rush hour traffic or enduring all the things and daily events that try your patience, exasperate you, and find some meaning and reason to believe your life will get better and that you will be happy again.

Then you couple those realities with the realities of daily life, of daily chores and all the minutia that complicates a normal day and all we see is a very long day filled with obstacles and insults that must be traversed, and you do it with an empty heart. All we look forward to is the comfort of home and of our bed and hopefully a restful sleep.

I keep telling Christopher not to worry, that we will find a way to carry on. I don’t want him to be sad and to think we cannot do this. He has other more pressing things to do and we cannot impede his journey. That is the only thing that keeps me going, trying to do what he expects. I’m sure he realizes things can never be the same for us, that finding happiness will be difficult and sporadic. Our main goal for the rest of our lives is to insure Josie is happy and taken care of. She has hopefully, her whole life ahead of her and we have to make it the best it can be.

We have so much to do, so much and have to find the energy and motivation to do all that is required. We have no control but still have to take care of what ever comes our way.

April 17^th Sunday

Dear Son,

Its sunny today, bright and warm, the weekend has been beautiful: everything you could want for a spring day and yet I am so sad and lonely. I miss you so much and I long for you to hug me and call me “Padre”. I look at your pictures here and at home, that beautiful, laughing smile, staring into my eyes, and sometimes I think the picture is going to speak to me.

This is the end of a long week, one that has been hard to endure, slow to pass. Four months ago today, your mother and I were kneeling in the street at 115^th and Antioch and began this horrible journey surrounded by curious onlookers and police, trying to understand the unthinkable. I can scarcely think of the events of that night: I am such a coward. Your mother thinks of nothing else. To this day, I have not driven north of that spot where our most precious possession was taken from us, cannot make myself contemplate the actual spot at which you died. I am such a coward and feel so ashamed that I cannot summon the courage to stand at that point, the point at which our families’ lives’ were destroyed.

I should be able to go there and be with you and I should have been by your side that night. I should have had the courage and fortitude and demanded they let us be with you to hold you and touch you one last time. I wonder sometimes in my darker moments whether you were still there, looking over the scene, waiting for your mommy and daddy to come comfort you. God dammit, I should have run to your side son. Oh god I think I failed you that night. We should have held your broken body one last time and cared for our baby. I am so sorry son and I will have to live the rest of this miserable life to wonder if I did the right thing.

We will have many years to ponder all that happened and if these last four months are any indication, the pain will not subside soon. We are not any better and although we are able to function more normally, we are far from healed. We are trying son; please believe that. We work hard to get through the days and nights and we try to think of all that needs to be done. I finished painting your room today and the woodwork has all been refinished. All that is left is to do something about the ceiling and replace the carpet. The room is so comforting especially at night when my spirits are low and I need to talk to you. In the quiet of the night, if I sit very still, I can almost believe I will hear your voice telling me what to do. I need some direction son, some way to know whether what I am doing is right. There is so much to do, so many things need attending and all I need is some energy and stamina to do it all.

I have been writing for you and I feel good about that progress. I have taken to writing in a legal pad while I sit with you and although I can barely read my handwriting, the thoughts and ideas flow more freely there and it lets me be with you longer. It is the only good part of my day, to sit with you, talk to you, and pray. I don’t know son, if the prayers help us or not. I cannot say we feel God’s presence and if he is with us, he is not making himself known to us. I can only continue to press for his help and keep asking you to look over us. There is so much more to say son and I will write you more this week, I promise. I am sorry I have not taken better care of you this past week but I know you understand how difficult it was. Please help us bud and take care of your sister and mother. We love you and miss you so very much. Love dad

April 18^th

My Dearest Son,

Today, four months after you left us, I reached into the top right dresser drawer, a sacred place for your mother and I, for it contains and has since that week, the most intimate of your possessions; those items in your pockets and on your body, those personal belongings, sealed since that time reverently, in a bag.

I presented myself with a backward gift; an heirloom which rightfully should have gone to one of the beautiful children I know you would have had. This dive watch, given to you as such a meaningful gift, now instead, finds its way back to my hands. This special watch was with you on every one of our dives together. It kept you safe by marking in the simplest of fashions, your minutes and hours logged beneath the waves, tick by quiet tick, and the sole responsibility of this simple, yet elegant timepiece.

You wore it proudly as you should have, for it signified your ability and experience and more importantly, the quiet confidence gained by hours diving, perfecting a craft more difficult to master than most can appreciate or comprehend.

So today son, I take back what was given to you with more love and respect than you can ever know. It becomes mine, temporarily, and hopefully, until your sister or mother reclaims it at my death, when again, it will change hands and be safe guarded by another, to become the true heirloom keepsake it was intended to be.

And what of my dive watch which has also lost its eventual owner? Caranne will safeguard it and wear it, until she gifts this now 20 plus year old watch to one of her loved ones. This circle of life Christopher, has been disrupted, forever taken out of synch.

As hard as it is for me to accept, we were but temporary guardians of you son, as this piece of metal signifies. I hope we cared for you and safeguarded you buggy, as you did this watch.

All my love son, I miss you so……..

April 24^th Sunday

Dear Christopher,

Another week has passed and today signifies the start of another. The weeks are still long and hard and I look forward to the end of each day. I know I should be trying to make each day have more meaning, try harder to bring more meaning into them. But it is hard to make myself conjure up something useful that can bring some significance to the hours that I pass through.

I know somehow, I need to do more than I am; need to find some project, some cause that this grief can be channeled into. It is so easy son to feel sorry for myself for the predicament of life we are in. We go to work and we do all the mundane tasks of life that each day brings but that is not enough. We have no meaning in our lives right now and I have not yet figured out this difficult puzzle; have not yet found my way out of my own selfishness and fear. I am trying son, I really am. But my mind is still unfocused and I do not have the foresight necessary to see the path. It may be right in front of me but my fear is that something deep inside of me is preventing my heart and my mind from coming together. Maybe I am afraid that if I look deep inside of my heart, I will hear you telling me it is time to let go and move on. How do I know when that time is? What kind of sign do I need to look for?

I still to this day do not know if God is helping or even listening. I pray the rosary everyday for you, for Sam and Ritchie, and for their families. I pray that God will let you come to your sister and mother one more time, to sooth their broken hearts and spirits. I pray that God lets me know, gives me some sign, that he hears our prayers and is guiding us along the right path so that we can begin to heal. I go to mass on Sundays and pray some more. Still, I do not have the feeling that my prayers are making it any further once they are spoken.

Maybe something is wrong with me. Maybe I have too many sins to pay for and I have yet to repay enough so that I can begin to get some help. I wish I knew for sure that your death was not meant to punish your mother and me for past wrongs we have committed. I just do not know and no one else has any answers either.

Fr. Menard says God does not work that way and I am beginning to think he is probably right but somedays I think not. I do believe more as each day passes, that you are on the path you were meant to follow; that you were born to us with a higher calling, a higher purpose. You were such a special, unique person, such a force of life and love, of energy and kindness, that there can be no other truth or answer.

We know you have been busy, been many places and have been to many people since you left this life. It is undeniable and irrefutable. You exist in a different continuum, a dimension not far from this reality but in such an incomprehensible state, that we cannot begin to imagine how and why.

The fascination we both shared of things “otherworldly”, of things supernatural and of other forms of existence makes it easy for me to accept that you are on a journey, in a time and plane existing as a “life force”, going to many places and helping many people.

I believe son that you are on a path that very few are chosen for. Not all that pass are intended to do what I think you are doing. I can imagine your spirit soaring at incredible speeds, traveling instantaneously across the universe, seeing the most wondrous of sights. I see you flying with this huge grin on your face as you learn the answers to secrets and mysteries that you and I spent hours wondering about. I can imagine you saying to yourself, “ Ahh…. so that’s what’s that was all about !”

Christopher, I know you are doing the work you were born to do and I know you are happy and in a state of bliss and contentment, unknown to us here left behind. I know that someday that knowledge will bring me the comfort and peace I desperately need. But for now son, please don’t be angry or sad that I am just not far enough along in this journey to have anything in my heart but sadness.

I love you so much buggy….

Progress is slow on this journey of grief. It is easy to see why some friends have gone by the wayside, perhaps temporarily, maybe permanently. We have had to hear so many comparisons of what we are going through by well intended people and all are at best ludicrous and at worst, brutally cruel. It is something we know cannot be changed and must be tolerated as those that at least try to comfort and console, fumble for some sort of acknowledgement that they understand and can empathize our plight. They cannot. And as insulting as it may sound, no one that has not lost a child can even begin to understand what we are going through or what the ramifications and impact is on our lives and psyche.

It will take many that have known us, friends and family, a long time to understand that those people they once knew are gone. They have left as our son has, never to return. It is only now that we begin to understand that fact and the enormity of its implications is too hard to grasp. Many months ago, a woman who lost her son wrote us a beautiful card and the one thing that stuck in my mind was this sentence:

“You are not who you used to be, nor are you who you will become.”

At the time it seemed cryptic at best but now I understand and it is so true. We are on such a different path than before and we will be changed forever by the journey and the hard part is that we have little control over which way we go. The process of grief that we are going through is transforming us in ways we cannot and will not understand and know for some time. It is so monumental and it will be such a lonely trip. It is impossible for most to understand and comprehend and as such will be hard for them to have patience enough to see the outcome and the final product may be far different from what was familiar.

REMEMBERING

Go ahead and mention my child

The one that died, you know

Don’t worry about hurting me further

The depth of my pain doesn’t show

Don’t worry about making me cry

I’m already crying inside

Help me to heal by releasing the

Tears that I try to hide

I’m hurt when you just keep silent

Pretending it doesn’t exist

I’d rather you’d mention my child

Knowing that he has been missed

You asked me how I am doing

I say “Pretty good” or “fine”

But healing is something on going

I feel it will take a lifetime.

Elizabeth Dent

April 29^th

Another Friday is here and I am ashamed to say I cannot remember how many weeks it has been. I realized last night as I lay in bed that I had forgotten the count. We count by months now and that number I will not forget. I have hesitated in writing any personal entries for my journal as I have been trying to direct my energy to writing for Chris’ page. There is so much ground to cover and it takes so much emotion to do it that I cannot risk running out of strength just to indulge my own issues.

So much has happened yet so little has changed. Kay and I have been working too much and too hard and maybe that has been a blessing into itself as it leaves us little time to dwell on our lives, such as they are. I could recount so many events in the last month that have been significant but at the same time, irrelevant in their actual impact on what has happened. They are mostly a collection of small daily pains we must endure, conversations that go horribly wrong, painful reminders that jump up at us, observations of parental neglect that is now magnified by our own situation. A magnitude of life’s occurrences that due to our weakened state, are easier to see, harder to bear and more painful contemplate.

I am still wrapping up little bits and pieces of Chris’ life and the aftermath of the accident. It seems the last thing to do is never the last thing to do. Something always seems to show up, requiring me to again relive those events. It’s mostly my fault though as I decided to keep the R and that requires a certain amount of documentation that never seems to end. It also reminds me that I have one last painful chore to endure: going to see the car and assessing its chances of revival or demolition. It’s hard to imagine that I may actually be thinking of fixing it and although the chances are very slim, it is still in the back of my mind. Somehow the thought of that car sitting in the garage as it mostly did, idly waiting for someone to drive it, seems right. I cannot say why but even Kay mentioned it the other day as we sorted through some things a few weeks back. The fact is, it may not be possible to do so and only I can make that determination and only that can be done by driving to Cody’s and looking at it. There is time.

May 6th

My Dearest Son,

As Mother's Day approaches, I am hopeful and I pray fervently that you will come to your mother once again and sooth her broken heart, help mend her spirit and dry her tears.

When her father died, you were just a baby. She held you in her arms that day and never let you go. You comforted her and gave her strength on one of her darkest days. You saved her.

When her mother died, you were a young man, full of promise and compassion. You held her in your arms that day and never let her go. You comforted her and gave her strength on her second of dark days. You saved her again.

As you did countless times during your brilliant, wonderful life, look after the woman that bore you. The one that loved and nurtured you as no other mom could. The one that gifted you the wonderful personality and gentle nature.

The one that dryed your tears and kissed your skinned knees.

The one that chased away your nightmares and tucked you in at night.

The one that indulged your whims and swatted your bottom.

The one that whispered your goodnights and welcomed your mornings.

The one that brightened your birthdays and wrapped your gifts.

The one that hid your Easter eggs and hung your stocking.

The one that wiped your bottom and cleaned up your spills.

The one that gave you courage to keep going when tired and rubbed your back to sooth you.

The one that served your meals and washed your clothes.

To the one that pinned all her hopes and dreams, aspirations and energy and love ALL ON YOU, to her son, please, once more for me, comfort and save her one more time.

We miss you so much........

May 10^th

As usual, a litany of events and holidays keeps coming our way. It seems we barely are able to catch our breath when another significant benchmark steam rolls over us, never looking back to see us floundering in its wake. Although we have accepted these too frequent assaults, they are no easier to bear. All we can do is hold our breath as best we can, hoping to come out the other end, relatively unscathed

I have vowed to Christopher to try not to lament our lot too much. I have done enough of that over the last few months and it serves no purpose and my fear is that I will harden people’s hearts to our situation or worse, to our son. I cannot risk that happening so even though my decrease in postings has caused a drop in the visits to his site; I cannot worry about the consequences. I have to be strong, it’s just that simple. It gets no easier really, although some days pass more quietly than others. When a hard day shows itself, the pain is as intense, but not usually as long lasting as before. We recover from the wave a little quicker and not quite as bruised.

We don’t look forward to the summer and the nice days that have occurred mean little. We see people readying themselves for summer, going about the normal springtime chores: gardening, painting, putting all back in order after a hard winter. We do the same but with little emotion or significance attached to the activity.

We do all the same things as before. Kay has trays of flowers scattered about the house and deck. Her and Caranne have done some gardening and are planning a special area of the yard, one that will be dedicated to Chris with some special plantings and decorations. There is so much to do still around the house and we get to those items as our energy allows- and some weekends and days, it allows little. My frustration at my inability at times to generate the energy and will necessary to complete all that needs doing vexes and depresses me and at those times, saps what little spirit I have.

It is a vicious cycle, one that has no apparent solution as the grief dictates so much of our ability to function. It is really amazing how this process takes from you what it desires and we really have no control or ability to manage it. Chemicals have only helped to a certain degree as does the drinking. In the final analysis, all we can really do is endure our pain and our loss. Our son is gone and we will have to find a way to go on.

My Dearest Buggy,

I am having an “I can’t believe this has happened” moment as I sit here with you today. It happens even now, almost five months later, more frequently than most could imagine. Many times, looking at your name spelled out in the gold lettering on your mausoleum is all it takes to trigger the dreadful feeling that somehow, this can’t be real. I run my fingers over each letter and I gaze at the name so intently, it starts to look strange, unfamiliar, as if written in a foreign language.

Then as the feeling comes over me, I stare at all the beautiful pictures of you, smiling back at me with that familiar glint in your eye that makes each photo come to life and again, I cannot believe I am in this place on a sunny hot day, visiting my dearest son, never to return.

I gaze at all the lovely items friends and family have left here for you and the feeling starts to subside slowly, as reality takes a gentle hold on me to remind me that, yes indeed, this has happened. Our lives have been destroyed and we are again reminded that we are still reeling from this devastating blow, trying vainly to make some sense of what has happened, some way to go on.

And as I look at the picture your mother left here on Mother’s day, of our happy family on your graduation day, I am cruelly reminded that barely a year has passed since that wonderful, joyous day! Barely a year since we all sat in seats, high in Bartle Hall, beaming with pride and happiness, as you ascended the stage to receive the diploma for which you worked so hard to achieve and richly deserved. Barely a year ago son, we were so happy.

My heart is breaking today son as I struggle to get through yet another lonely, long day without you. I try so hard son to do all that I must for our family and myself. But some days it is impossible to make the effort and at such times, I merely exist. Moving through the minutes and hours, waiting for night to fall so that I can at least, lie to myself and make believe I did all I could do, put forth all that was in me to make this day better than the last.

Some days I can make that claim. Some days, I am able to work hard, be productive both with career and family and go to bed tired but assured that I have not only weathered this dismal storm one more day, but met it head on like a man; carried myself straight and proud as you did, with integrity, and somehow beat the odds one more day and squeezed all I could out of the hours.

Today I can make that claim, can point to several tasks and chores that were successfully accomplished, both for the family, my job and most importantly, for you.

Today, the first half of a project John and I have been working on for you is complete. Its conception and design come deep from John’s desire to honor your spirit and find some meaningful way to do something wonderful for you and your memory. Its importance to all involved will be heart wrenching and heart warming and the compassion to do for you and our family will not be lost on anyone. The second half is equally as important and should be done soon. I look forward to seeing this idea come to fruition and although it should have made me happy to reach this point in a long process, it has made me sad and melancholy.

I miss you so much son and it has been so difficult. Please look after your mother and sister. They need you so much. All my love, dad

May 14^th

Dearest Son,

Today is a beautiful day; a light breeze, a clear blue sky, mild temperature, everything anyone would want a Saturday to be. I ran early this morning and thought of you as I followed my usual route. It was so nice and I didn’t see another runner or dog walker the entire way- just you and I, alone in our thoughts.

As I stepped out the door this morning, I would have normally thanked God for this beautiful day, as I have every day of my life, for as long as I can remember. I don’t recall when I put the practice into place or why, but I have thanked God in that manner for all of my adult life to be sure.

A few days ago as I walked to my van to go to work, it was also that kind of day and again, I was reminded of my usual ritual. I guess what I am telling you is that I realize I used to thank God for each day of my life but recently realized that I had abandoned the practice. I pray for you and our family daily and although I am unsure if my prayers are being heard, I continue to do so, as I have no other God or deity to turn to.

I feel better during and after my daily rosary for you and maybe that is sign enough that God is hearing our prayers and soothing our spirits. Maybe I should start thanking him again every morning for the new day. Maybe that would make him understand that I appreciate what little is left of our once, wonderful lives. I don’t know.

I worked hard this past week son, to finish your room and I felt so good as I put down the final brush strokes on the trim. It seems as though I have been working on the room forever, with no end in sight. Tasks are that way now in this new paradigm, as it takes enormous energy and discipline to work at projects around the house. But I worked hard to make sure something was done almost daily, though many days the will was not there.

I am proud that I did all I set out to do: re stain the doors, windows and baseboards, take down the old dirty popcorn ceiling texture and repaint it, patch all the little nicks and dings on the walls and doors and repaint the entire room. Carpet is all that remains and then we will put all your precious belongings back where they belong, for good and you will have a nice fresh room to rest your spirit.

Sunday will be a long day son, they always are. Some Rockhurst faculty are having a mass said in your name at

9 o clock mass at the big cathedral at 11^th and Broadway and your mom and I will attend. Later, here at Newcomers, a memorial service to honor loved ones that have recently passed will begin, the names read and the families will go to the front and light a candle in their memory. We will attend that service also.

So many people hold you near to their hearts son and it makes us feel better to know you have not been so soon forgotten. I also stopped at two churches on Thursday and light candles in the sanctuary for you and had mass intentions scheduled for you in June at Holy Spirit.

I was productive this week son. I tried so hard to make you proud of me and show you that you didn’t need to worry about me. I hope I did okay.

I love you boy, please look over us… love dad

May 19^th

My Dearest Son,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you in a few days. I have been trying to stay busy with work and other matters and some days I haven’t had the emotional energy to do you justice with a letter. This morning I have more time to sit and think and I wanted to tell you about my day yesterday.

I had been thinking for some weeks now that I should go visit both Ritchie and Sam and speak to them and know where they were laid to rest. I have spoken to both of their parents in this last week so the impetus to go see them was even higher than before. Mrs. Sullivan seems to be doing well, much better than she has been in my previous conversations with her. She has been working very hard on projects for Sam as I have been for you and I think doing so has given her a renewed sense of purpose and allowed her a place to channel her energy and grief. She feels more connected to him she said and I know that can be enough to make your spirits a little higher.

We talked about many things and as always compared notes on the process we are going through, how similar our experiences have been. It was good to hear from her and her voice sounded so much better and her outlook seemed much improved. She gave me directions to where Sam is buried and she in turn wanted to know how to get to our home for you. Since she works very close to you, I know she will go see you soon and it makes me happy that she will spend some time with you.

I drove out to where Sam is laid and I was surprised to find it is also a Newcomer facility. It took me a few minutes to find Sam as I drove through the huge cemetery with all its winding roads and small markers. He is by the road under a big tree. I stopped and knelt at his grave site, the ground barren and dry. I talked to him and prayed for all of you and as I knelt there I was overcome with emotion as the thoughts flowed through my mind of all that has happened over the last five months. It felt good to be there and we will go back, your mother and me, and take some flowers.

Surprisingly enough, Ritchie is only a mile away down the same road, but like you, is indoors. I stopped to see him too and I wandered the corridors of the large building, looking for his name. After finding him, I too stopped and prayed for all of you and for our families. We will go back to see him also and take something for him.

Your mom spoke to Mrs. Restivo for the first time the other day. I was on the phone with her when your mom got home from work and she took a few minutes to speak with her. I know it was hard for her to do but I think she was glad that she had finally spoken to her. The Restivo’s have much information for us concerning you and Richie and Sam and while I know about some of the events from previous conversations with both of them, I have only told your mother a small portion of what has been said and experienced. It is information that needs to be shared together and in person and we are planning on visiting with them sometime in the next week or two.

We continue son, to try to get better and find a way to continue. Some days are easier than others but all days are hard. I am very excited about the new project John and I have been working on and I really am starting to believe it will blossom into something wonderful. I want so desperately to do the right thing for your memory and to honor your integrity and love. This project will do that and more importantly, will give us a chance to tell more people about the way you lived your life and the way you loved and cared for all your friends and family. I have so much to do and I cannot stop or get tired or miss and of the small details left to do.

I will take care of you son as best I can. Please guide me and help me make the right decisions. Please look over your sister and take care of her and keep her safe from any harm. Your mother needs your help and prayers more than ever and I know you will be with her always. Take care son and touch us when you can. All my love, dad

May 20^th

Buggy,

The end of a very hard week is here, another Friday, another day to ponder our lives in this new reality. It has been hardest on your mom as she contemplates the end of freshman year for both you and Josie, the impending summer months, vacations that will never be again, and of course, another holiday.

Each event requires her to beat herself up, fret, and ponder unceasingly, the magnitude of each never to be the same life mark in this shaky, turmoil-ridden existence that is our life. She seems unable to focus on other matters that would cause less grief, less sadness, and maybe draw attention away from what to both of us, is hurtful and depressing. Her state of mind this past week will allow her no rest from those painful thoughts and feelings and at times, seems to embrace them tighter as she struggles to get through each day.

I can do little for her at these times as I to wrestle with my own demons that come to me and distract me from what I know I need to do. Its not that I don’t try hard to make her more comfortable and nurture her when possible- I do. Some days though son, I run out of energy, my emotional reserve spent, used up in all that needs tending to. I feel guilty at those times and can only limp along, offering her little more than useless platitudes.

This week has been difficult for me also as I was pounded and reminded hourly about the final Star Wars movie that we had both looked forward to. I tried mightily to put the thoughts of our conversations and speculations about it aside, tried to ignore the TV ads, newspaper reviews and all the other media that spewed the constant promotions.

It may seem a trivial thing to many that something so obviously inconsequential would cause me such pain, such hurtful memories but those that know us realize how much we were looking forward to this event. Couple that movie with the recently released Hitch hikers Guide To The Galaxy, a movie based on a book you loved so much and constantly quoted lines from and then with all the other summer releases we had talked about and it is easy to understand my sadness: Aeon Flux, Fantastic 4, the list goes on.

John and I were talking about this today at work and in typical understanding fashion, John matter of factly said;

“He’s already seen it , you know?”

I looked at him and smiled and said;

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Then with compassion that is John’s character, offered to go see the movie with me.

I just don’t have the excitement or desire now son, to worry too much about standing in line although that’s exactly where we would have been on midnight Wednesday night! One of your friends left you a ticket stub from the midnight showing and just seeing it tucked into the picture frame made me cry, but also made me feel so good tht they had not forgotten you on opening day.

I will see the movie bud, maybe some quiet morning or early afternoon, by myself. And I may just spend the day in the theater, watching it over and over, knowing you will be by my side, enjoying it with me. That is all I have left now son, the thoughts and hope that somehow, someway, you will in spirit, continue to share with your ole man, all of the many interests we once shared together.

Take care Homer,

May 26^th

Christopher,

The end of this school year is almost here, the freshman year for both you and Caranne. How I wish sitting here today with you, that we could be looking forward to the upcoming summer months and what has traditionally been our time of rest and play. Since both of you have only known life with working parents, the pleasures enjoyed by many kids with stay at home parents was always a foreign concept to both of you.

For all your school years, you knew only busy weekdays, from dawn to dusk, being shuttled to school early in the morning before most of the kids, and remanded to after school care at days end and then home briefly for a few hours of “family time”, before starting the cycle again.

Summers were our time together, time for your mom and me to catch our breath and look longingly for the few weeks off to catch up with both of you, let you decompress from a grueling school year, and spend as much time together as possible. To look forward to a jet plane ride to some sunny, warm destination, to indulge ourselves in guilty pleasures, denied during the hectic school months. To catch up on all the stories and tall tales of the long winter months at school, to get to know both of you again and to glow in ‘the warmth of your laughter and company.

That will not take place this year son, and I feel bad for your sister that we will not carry on in our usual tradition. We will do none of those things nor will we look forward to what is sure to be a long, hot summer without you. We have one or two very short trips planned over the next few weeks, a chance to try to be “normal” for a few days. But even those short respites seem more work, the energy required to try to be so, short on return for the investment spent.

I know we have to try harder to get out of this house, get away to a different environment so that we can give ourselves a rest from the constant pounding we take daily by being so immersed in our loss. I know we need to do that or we may never start healing, may never start learning how to live again. I know you want us to try to move on without you here, but it doesn’t seem right yet and I cannot let go of my pain this soon, it won’t let me. All I feel is guilty for wanting the pain and hurt to stop and to go back to the “old days” when our lives were so happy and fulfilling.

I can’t help but wonder what this summer would have brought, what kinds of activities and trouble both of you would have gotten into. One thing is certain though, Josie would have been at your side, enjoying the summer together, making morning trips for coffee or that late night drive to Wendy’s for chicken nuggets, jr. bacon burgers and Frosty’s.

It may be presumptuous of me son, but I don’t think any of our extended family is looking forward to the summer months either, at least the few I have spoken to recently. They all sound so weary and resigned, as if partially paralyzed at the prospects, or lack of, that lie ahead. One thing is for sure, they are all glad the brutal, depressing second semester of college is over. It has been a long six months for all of them and all of us need desperately to find some way to regroup, recover and reorganize. We have all been living in a fog and for them, trying to concentrate on school matters, it has been even harder to focus and do what they all knew they had to.

Most plan on working over the next few months and I’m sure they have some plans to either get away with their families for vacation or pool their emotional resources and try to recreate another “ Chris” summer. I hope somehow they can enjoy themselves and capture a small bit of the essence that was generated by all your combined spirits. They need so badly son, to sort through all the feelings and hurt they are still nursing. We will help if we can and we want to be here for them. We all need each other, need to continue to connect and cling to one another if any of us are to truly find a path to start down.

Good God son, you could not have possibly known how many lives would be impacted by your leaving us so soon. We are starting to understand or are trying to, that your time here was over, you had done all you could for all of us and that God had larger, more urgent plans for your indomitable spirit. Someday we, all of us, may start to understand more fully the reasons for your death, but for now, we all cling to the thoughts and memories hoping somehow, they can sooth our broken hearts. We all love and miss you so much bud. Please look over all of your friends and family and give us some sign that you are still here among us, looking out for us and helping us heal.

All our love and prayers to you…….

Sunday May29th

When the grief gives you a break, it makes you think you are making progress and getting better, feeling as if you are getting a handle on our loss of Chris. But then you try to get out among the “living” and realize that you are far, very far from being okay, and it’s demoralizing.

We knew of course this weekend would be hard, another holiday to endure and we had steeled ourselves for the eventual wave of emotion that would come our way. Unexpectedly we got a call from Cody on Friday evening, he and Darla were going to be in town, and he wondered if we were up to seeing them. We were already on our way out to grab a bite to eat so we decided we would meet them later. As the time drew near, we both started feeling a bit anxious and wondered whether we were really up to seeing company. We never know how we will feel from hour to hour and when it involves seeing some old friends, it’s always harder to do than we think, especially close friends like Cody and Darla.

It was good to see them and we enjoyed ourselves for the most part but eventually it becomes painful and we realize that we are just limping along while everyone else is barreling on full steam with their lives. As Cody talked about the new foals and buffalo, it became painfully clear that we, Kay and I were bystanders. It’s so hard to see old friends because they are mostly a reminder of how injured we are and of how far we have to go. It does hurt to see others going on happily with life, enjoying as we once did the simple everyday occurrences, making plans for vacations and home projects, thinking and anticipating upcoming events. W can try to be normal but it is a pitiful impersonation and we cannot fool ourselves.

Then we had lunch with the inner circle of Chris’ friends on Saturday and it was so very good to see them. It is starting to become a more comforting thing and for that we are both grateful. To hug Julie, see her smile that weak little smile, and know she is still with us and to see the two boys interact with Caranne makes us feel much better. But then later that night on the Plaza, we run into the boys again only with Mary Ann and Jay, Nick’s parents, and again we are reminded of how everyone else we know is moving on without us and our son, talking of future plans for their kids and of vacations and other life events. As we walk away from them, we both sigh and without speaking, understand that again in less than 24 hours, we are brutally reminded of our wound.

So we tried and it was not very successful. We limp home today and lick our wounds. We do not have any more energy to try this anytime soon yet, we will go to Chicago in a week or so for a concert and maybe there, we can give it another try. We will go see the boy later and pray for him and for ourselves. We have to keep at it, we just do not have any other options and Chris expects we can do this. We cannot let him down.

Memorial Day,

The emotionality of the weekend has taken its toll and we come back home after a long day away from the sanctuary of our home where we know it is safe and forgiving. We have visited Richie and Sam, laid flowers and said prayers for them and have twice seen our beloved son. And we have for the first time, visited St. Xavier’s, and said the rosary for Christopher. It was not as difficult to be there as we had imagined and it was not something we planned. We had only been in the area after stopping to see the other two boys when Kay realized we were very close to the church.

Surprisingly it took us some time to find the location and we both were amazed that we could not immediately navigate ourselves there. It was comforting and reassuring on a day that has been filled once again with encounters with friends we had not seen in some time. All reminders of events we wish desperately we could take back. We will not turn back the clock on this live milestone, and can only as said before, endure.

Things are difficult and I wish I had some sense that they would get better, but I’m afraid there is much pain left to go. Things will get worse before they get better, and the better will be only a variation of what is happening now: it will not be as most think, an improved reality.

June 1^st

My dearest son,

Another month has arrived and as we start into another long one without you the fact that this will be the sixth since your death makes it all the worse. Perhaps that is why our lives seem to be more depressing than had been in the previous months. I had thought that maybe we were making some progress and that we were finally finding a way to get on with life, but sadly that is not the case. As with this grief, we are sometimes fooled and led astray, thinking we somehow have learned to adjust our lives and start making our way out of the hell that has been our existence these last five months. I know you would like to feel we are getting better and maybe it is just a glitch, a minor setback marked by the significance of the month involved, but I honestly do not know that is the case.

This last month has been marked by more vivid memories flooding back, both good and bad, the latter explained to us as PTSD. What ever they are, they are devastating in their brutality and leave me physically sick. Twice now it has happened and the pain is almost more than I can bear and almost as vivid as the actual event in its effects on my psyche. There appears to be no trigger, which causes the events, but after only two episodes, I fully understand how this could affect a person for many years and make life even harder to live. It is true we have been going through difficult holidays and involving ourselves in tasks that are truly hard to endure but we have no choice if we are to learn how to cope in this new environment. We will from the day of your death, have things we just have to do and endure and trying to avoid those tasks and seeing those people and attending functions is and will always be part of our lives. We just have to learn how to cope and adjust, there is for us sadly, no other viable option or choice.

Not all is bad though son and I am trying as hard as I can to be strong and take care of your sister and mother. One does not let me do much for her and the other needs more tending and care than I can possibly give on a daily basis, considering my own depleted emotional state. However, I am determined to keep going, making you proud of me and doing my best to honor your memory.

You had many visitors over the weekend and it made us feel better on a very hard day to know that you were missed. I hope so much that the project that John and I have just finished will bear the fruit I believe it has the potential to and if so will go a long way in celebrating your life.

We pray as much as we can and some days I think maybe we are getting some sense that God is listening. Other days it is hard to believe anyone is out there besides us. On those days, our pain takes over and we tuck inside ourselves and weather the storm as best we can. I wish our lives were different bud, and some days I am so envious of others that they do not have this cross to bear, but we have been chosen and I don’t know what else I can say about that. We will do the best we can son and we will continue to love you and miss you and pray for you. I hope God will somehow show us some mercy and give you the energy and ability to come to your mother and sister and let them know you are happy and safe. We so need that to happen, I love you buggy, Dad

June 6th

Dearest Christopher

Tomorrow we are going to leave you for the first time since your death. I am so afraid to leave this place. I am so afraid to leave you and your sister. We have no reason to believe something bad will not happen, its the way we live now- we cannot help it. The emotional devastation we have endured has left us shakey and scared and the fear we carry with us makes us feel as though we are always teetering on the edge of the precipice, ready to fall over the cliff again at any moment. We see disaster around every corner and danger in every moment. We are so fearful of things getting worse before we have a chance to recover from this unexpected tragedy and experience tells us it could easily happen again.

But we have to leave, even if only for a few short days. We have to test the waters again and see if we still have our sea legs, see if we can exist outside this severly compressed reality we now live in. We have to try and see if there is anything left for us on the outside world. We have grown to expect nothing good and so our expectations are not high and that fact may make this short adventure doomed before we ever step out of the safety of our home. I will also not visit you for the first time for a day and I am feeling very guilty and sad about that. I wanted so much to ask someone to go see you on Tuesday, but felt that was too much to ask of people who are hurting themselves. Hopefully one of your friends will visit and in some small way, atone for my absence.

I am clearly agitated today, my nerves and temper short and anxiety high as I try to enjoy the day off. Monday's are usually so hectic for me and the fact that I have the day off seems odd and a little disconcerting making my level of nervousness even higher. It may be wrong for us to try to do this so early in the summer, especially since your sister is staying behind. That alone is probably the main reason for my highened state of anxiousness but we think she needs a break from our constant hovering around the house, never leaving for more than an hour or so at a time. We really have no place to go nor anything to do other than work and to visit you daily and I believe she needs us to separate, get some space between us so that we can all see what it feels like to act normal again.

I don't really have any answers son, only questions and those have no one to answer them. I only know we will climb on that plane in the morning and pray to God as we have been all these months and hope for the best. We live in fear and pain and there is no one to alleviate the situation. Should some tragedy befall us, well then I for one will not be surprised. I wish so much I could be more optimistic with you in this letter but I am frightened man, who is so consumed with the pain of our lives that there is little room left for positive thinking. I will do the best I can for all of us and I will try to imagine that this trip will somehow make us feel better and maybe heal us in a small way. Please look after your sister as you have always done. We will be thinking of you as always. All our love son,

Dearest Son,

As I sit with you today, I have been away from this place for 2 days. It was the first time since you died that I had not come to sit with you and I felt bad while we were away from home and from you. I know you are not upset that we didn’t come to visit but I also know we had to try and see if we might still be able to act like people who’s lives are progressing normally, without major upheavals and devastating events occurring and carry on in a way that was once so commonplace; traveling, sightseeing, and enjoying everyday activities that were once so vital and necessary for our well being and sanity.

We tried hard to enjoy and make the most of our short trip and with the exception of the harrowing plane ride at the end of a very long day, we would say we did okay and were able for the most part, to reap some enjoyment and put a little space between our present lives. We may in time, have the courage to venture out more frequently and further from home but this was only a trial run, a test of our ability to distance ourselves from what has been these last six months, a life barren of enjoyment and heavily laden with confusion and sadness. We will try again to leave the comfort and serenity we have come to know as our pain and grief, and maybe with enough practice, we can begin to find our way back.

We miss you so much…….

June 13^th

Dearest Son,

We begin this week as we have many others, dreading the long first day of the week knowing full well that Friday will give us a double kick to our already frail psyches: it will be Friday and it will be the 17^th- the half way point of a horrible year, a nightmare that never ends and pain that seldom goes away. Six months of our lives spent wondering what we did wrong, how we were so unlucky and cursed and how this tragedy could have ever found its way into our happy lives.

Many painful months back, I prayed that this day would come so that I could be further chronologically from that horrendous night, thinking falsely somehow, that we would feel better and that the tremendous pain and anguish would have abated, loosened its piercing grip on us. How wrong I was to think that 180 days could somehow sooth the wounds, heal the broken spirits or somehow alleviate the feelings of loss and grief that are our constant companions. How wrong I was to think that six months would make much of a difference in our feelings of the loss of you.

We have learned to make adjustments, learned better to cope with the constant longing for you and found ways to deal with all the conflicting feelings we have from hour to hour; the anger, the sadness and frustration, the awful sick feeling we get in the pit of our stomachs, and the sudden tears that come when we least expect them. We are even learning in small increments, how to fend off all those feelings for a few hours so that our minds and broken hearts can be allowed some much needed rest.

But the thoughts of you never leave us, whether it’s watching TV or driving to work, or late at night when we suddenly awake, and the fog of sleep clears; there you are, always. At those times, late in the dark, your mother and I frequently awaken at the same time, and without a word spoken between us, lightly reach for each other knowingly, and then, quiet in our thoughts of you, roll over and try to fall back to sleep, perhaps the only time we are at peace and free of hurt.

Even though we are facing a long difficult week, it was preceded by a wonderful gathering of your closest friends over the weekend and the end of a long project was reached. I will tell you about that later this week son, but for now, know how much I love you and miss you...........

June 17^th Six Months

I have tried the last few months to post only letters to my son as I felt there was little to be served by my continued lamenting of our lives after Chris’ death. Today though it has been six months since he left us and still I can barely say the words. This past week has been hard in anticipation of this day and now that it is here, I am as most times, lost as to how to feel or what to think. There is so much to say about so many things and maybe today I will just get all those matters taken care of and will then go back to trying to get on without him

Mary Kay has been sick this week and I think the weekend’s activities with the party finally just brought her down. We have both struggled this week to keep busy and maintain our energy but it has been difficult. My work has been slow and that makes it even harder to concentrate on work matters instead of thinking of just going home or of some fun activity that I know I have no heart to do. I did go see Star Wars again on Monday afternoon for the second time and as with the first viewing of it, was mostly numb and emotionless, but tried to enjoy it nonetheless.

We have been planning on turning the small front room into an art studio for Caranne and we will start on that project today once I get back from work. It’s a good idea and she needs more space for all her projects and this will allow her to work on many things and not worry about cleaning up after each session. I look forward to getting it done because it will finally give that room some purpose and make us fix it up properly. Her artistic skills have blossomed during the last few months that she had been back to school and the classes she was taking were of tremendous value. Some of her paintings and especially drawing look like photographs! She is blessed with a talent truly and we have to nurture and keep her moving with her gift.

Chris’ room is also finished and we moved most of his furniture back into it on Friday evening before Teresa came to visit. It’s now clean and repainted and we can finally put all of his personal belongings back where they belong. I have wondered since I finished about whether I have done the right thing cleaning it up. It needed it badly but now I cannot remember why I was in such a hurry. Kay does not want to do a thing with his closet and I think that tells me she was only lukewarm to the idea of cleaning up his main room. But it’s done and it will be a very nice place for our family and his friends to use. I still have a few more pieces of furniture to put back in there and many things to hang on the walls, mementoes etc. but there is time for that and we will work at it as energy and spirit allow.

The party last weekend was very successful and I think all of his friends had a great time although the day was very emotion filled as can be expected. The girls were very emotional but they did seem to enjoy seeing everyone and no one seemed to be having any problems fitting in or getting along. I had worried that because of past girlfriends and other relationships that drifted apart at various times throughout the last few years, that there would be some bruised feelings or awkwardness between some of the friends, but there was only acceptance and friendship, as Chris would have wanted it. It was still difficult to see all of his friends here, smiling and talking, knowing the one person that many times held all of them together, was missing. That will never change I guess and again, it is just something we have to endure.

It has been hardest on Caranne these last six months, but frankly, she is doing better than any of us. She is so strong willed and rock hard emotionally on the outside and seeing her now, you would never know that just a few months ago, she was wheelchair bound. The damage to her emotionally is incalculable however, and we have no way of knowing what is locked deep inside her. It has been a horrible, tough time for her and I admire her so much for the way she has handled herself and the will she has shown in finding a way to keep going. After missing 2 months of school, she finished with a 3.50 gpa. That in itself is another miracle. I know her brother has been with her and has been propping her up emotionally. She would never tell us but I know she believes it too. He will not leave her side and I pray daily that he is able to be her guardian angel, looking out for her and helping her as he did when he was here.

My family has been wonderful and has kept in close contact with us, checking in regularly via email or phone. I haven’t been the ideal son myself as my father had surgery a few weeks back and I was barely cognizant of it the day it occurred. I have been so wrapped up in my own misery and I should have been more responsive during that time. Other parts of their lives are not going very well either and I can do little about that situation. My sisters living there with my parents will have to shoulder the load of those problems and they are many and difficult to solve. It seems like there is so much going wrong for so many that we know over the last year and to say I am a little gun shy is to misstate my apprehension and fear about so many things that are yet to happen or could happen.

I just found out this week that one of my few close friends from high school, Mike Jochum, passed away suddenly over three months ago and I didn’t know a thing about it. I don’t know if family members shielded me from the event or if they were unaware themselves. Had Mary Kay’s mom, Jane, still been with us, she would have notified us immediately as she knows the family well. As it is, another father is without his son, a man I have known since I was 14 years old. Mike was a good man, a good friend and a gentle person, much like Christopher. His loss again, leaves me sad and wondering what the hell is going on with life, with my life and with life in general. So much pain and at the same time, so many idiots and self absorbed, worthless people in the news: Paris Hilton and all the others like her who grab for fame and notoriety as if they needed it to live. I just don’t know, but one thing is for certain; you can expect no justice for those who do wrong or live so frivolously, caring not who they hurt or step on or take advantage of. I know this all too well first hand within my own family tree, and I make that distinction because I claim no relationship to those of whom I speak.

My brothers wife, Joy has been sending me regular correspondence over these six months. Twenty two years ago, she lost her son in a traffic accident and understands the pain we are going through. Again, I am ashamed that I do not remember much of that time as I don’t think we lived in the town at the time but I know I could not have been very sympathetic when the event occurred and now feel badly that she in our time of need has been so gracious and kind, more so than I know I was at the time. There is definitely a bond between us bereaved parents, one only we can understand and appreciate. It has been clear to me for some months now that I am obligated to return the kindness and understanding to another parent caught in our situation. I have to, it is the way it is, and it’s what my son wants me to do. I know this now.

Nathan came to the mausoleum as Kay and I sat there this evening getting ready to pray the rosary as is our usual custom. I had been there already an hour before she came from work to join me. I spent those moments by myself staring at the walls, not really thinking of anything in particular, just random thoughts and memories of Chris. Nathan was quiet as is his usual demeanor around us and was a bit uncomfortable as I think he felt he was intruding on our time. As we sat and made small talk, it became clear to me that on this day, Nathan should be there with us. We do not insinuate in any way that we have raised this young man but we have in many ways, nurtured him and provided for him when his own family was absent or unaware of his needs, emotional and practical. And to be sure, Christopher looked after him in numerous ways over the years and they both grew to depend on the other.

When Nathan tells us stories of him and Chris at K-State, you can hear Christopher’s voice, his inflection, his phrasing; it is clearly Chris talking through Nathan. Because they were so close and so deeply bonded together, we understand more fully now, perhaps more than ever, the depths of their friendship, the totality that Chris looked after Nathan, pushed him, prodded him to do things he otherwise may not have had the will to do, mentored him even. They developed over the years, a bond of love and symbiosis: looking after one another and at times, merging into one persona, one unified mind, each understanding the other so intimately, feeding off each others strengths and weaknesses, each utilizing what it needed from the other, to function.

The bond clearly became deeper in the last months of the first semester at school, as the pangs of homesickness and isolation in such a large school environment, made them cling tighter than ever, to each other for companionship, friendship and emotional support. In a sense, I think the three of them, Jules, Nathan and Chris, struggled to find a rhythm, a pace that was comfortable, a routine that brought not only a modicum of order, but one that felt more “homey”, more “theirs”. I believe finally, they were able to make some sense of the way college worked, the stark differences they were having trouble adjusting to versus high school and had worked most of the bugs out of their small corner of college life.

But now, six months later as I sit in my son’s room, finishing this letter, none of that matters. He is gone, our lives have been wrecked and we still struggle to this day to find a way to continue. And many days, we struggle to find the will to continue. This is a difficult road and as I have said before, only the three of us can travel it. As much as we would like to have company, someone to console us along the way, we can have none of that. As much as we try to help all of Chris’ friends, at times I think, it is really we, Kay and I, who need those more, especially Nathan and Julie. Both still are having trouble as we are in finding a way to go on. We all are, those that were closest to him and loved him the most. I don’t know. I wish I had more answers than questions and I wish somehow I could change the way things are but I cannot. This quote from a book really says it all:

“I will carry my own burden of pain as best I can without questioning why I have been “chosen” to have so much heartbreak in my life. All of us have been chosen for misfortune at one time or another. The road I travel is difficult-sometimes unbearable- but it is mine. I will own it and realize that it will lead me out of the darkness.”

June 27^th Monday

Christopher,

I have written many times over these sad months that I had seen little to no evidence, signs of some sort, that our prayers are being listened to. I have complained I know, and cried about God ignoring us, letting us fend for ourselves, and I think I have tried as hard as I am able, to pray fervently and sincerely for some kind of indication, any small glimmer of hope, that God will show us a path to follow, somehow touch us spiritually and let us know we are being heard and helped.

Your mother told me one day that she had been praying to Mary, asking her to intercede on our behalf. I then started directing my daily prayers and rosary to the Virgin Mother, as something in my head clicked and all those years of catholic upbringing reminded me of how we were always told that the Virgin was powerful and many miracles have been attributed to her, as people in need would implore her to help them in their struggles.

I have been praying for months that she would give you the energy and ability to look after your mom and sister, to safeguard them and keep them from harm. I have also asked that you be allowed to come to them, give them some sign, that you are well and happy. My most important prayer in my mind has been that you be allowed to be Caranne’s guardian angel, to look after her emotionally and physically, to keep her from despair and depression and to keep her safe from any more physical harm and to impart on her, some of your compassion and gentleness.

Son, as always, you did not fail us, and for certain, I can say our prayers were heard and you were in fact, watching over both of them, and you kept them safe and free from harm. I can see it no other way. The Virgin Mother has shown us that our prayers have been listened to and that you are in fact, watching over your sister, as you always did. I knew if given the ability and energy, you would always be at her side. I have believed that you were in large part, responsible for her miraculous healing, when we had been told repeatedly, she would need months of rehabilitation to regain her ability to walk and recover fully.

I know son, you have never left her side all these months. I continue to pray that the Virgin Mary allows you to continue your vigilance over her. I also pray son, that you can somehow, guide her emotionally to a better day- a day when she will begin to understand fully, your sacrifice that night and in doing so, try to incorporate into her heart and mind, some of your compassion and love of life and to learn to be more empathetic of others, adopt a more caring nature and learn to live her new life more fully and freely, as you did, squeezing the most out of everyday and every relationship, and learning to love without fear and acceptance of all.

As always my son, you have taken care of your family and we love you so much, dad

June 19th Sunday

Thank you for being my son, for teaching me how to love and for filling my life with all your joy and happiness. I hope and pray I did okay, son. I miss you so much. your loving father....

June 28th

I have been missing Chris so much lately. I have been forced to again take over the grass cutting duties; one I had so gladly shed myself of several years ago once Chris was physically strong enough to push the mower up and down the huge backyard. Of course I expedited that by buying a self propelled mower so that my freedom from that chore could be gained sooner rather than later.

Taking over the grass cutting has been painful for me for more than just the physical labor aspect of it. Last year, after Chris had started his first semester at K State, I had to again, temporarily take back over the job. One evening as I was cutting along the backside of a large line of pines that stretches across the back yard, I caught a brief glimpse of something by the trampoline that was on the other side of these trees. I was passing along the backs of these trees and would as I reached the gaps between them, again; briefly catch a flash of someone. I finally stopped the mower as my curiosity got the better of me and there, standing on the trampoline with the huge familiar smile across his face, was my son!!!

This memory is so ingrained in my mind for some reason and I think it’s because as I was mowing that evening, I had been thinking about him and wondering what he was doing. We had all been missing him so much and were still adjusting to his absence from our daily lives. I especially had underestimated the magnitude of his going off to college and the effect it would have on the three of us. It had become painfully apparent over those first weeks that the loss of contact with him daily, was going to be much harder to get used to than I had ever imagined.

At first I was startled to see him standing there above me, grinning from ear to ear, and I had not turned off the mower yet and I caught myself asking him in an astonished voice:

“What are you doing here?”, but the din of the motor easily drowned out my query.

I quickly shut off the machine and asked him again, realizing quickly, that I too was smiling broadly at my wonderful son.

He told me that someone, it may have been Julie, had to make a quick trip home for some reason and he took the opportunity to catch a ride for the night. This was in the middle of the week and is why I was so amazed to see him standing in the backyard. It was so completely unexpected but more to the point: I had been thinking about him as I mindlessly trudged up and down the yard and it was like a wish come true! He was jumping up and down on that damn trampoline, grinning like a Cheshire cat, periodically, turning summersaults, but in his usual fashion, was in the best of spirits as if he was having the best day of his life.

We hugged as usual, and I remember pulling him tightly to my chest, holding him in an embrace I didn’t want to end. He was hot and sweaty as was I and we talked briefly and then I returned to finish as quickly as I could so I could go back into the house to see him. He stayed on the trampoline for a few more minutes; running through his usual routine of acrobatics and then as quickly, bounded off the tramp and ran up the back stairs into the kitchen.

I had too again cut the grass Monday morning before going to work and as has become the norm, the memory again flooded my memory, vividly filling my head with the thoughts of Chris and that evening. The hardest part though, is the feelings the memories bring to my heart; it makes me hurt so much deep down and the pangs of loneliness and of heartbreak those thoughts bring me are sometimes unbearable. I miss him so much and I don’t know if I am getting better or not but I have to keep at it, have to keep trying to take care of all that needs doing and all that need my help. I know what he wants me to do and I have to just keep reminding myself that he expects me to do this, expects me to learn how to go on without him.

Fourth of July

My Dearest Son,

Once again, a holiday brings with it all the memories and pain the others that proceeded have dropped at our doorstep. I sit here tonight listening to the rumble and deep resonating thuds that are erupting from the fireworks display at Corporate Woods, a display we have enjoyed since you were young. This is a biggie; one of the most significant for me personally, rivaled only by Christmas. The 4^th is “our” holiday, yours and mine, to indulge in my childish whims, popping firecrackers, lighting the various spinning and sparkle showering armament, watching you come up with all manner of methods of destroying your old toys: car models with missing wheels, amputated GI Joes and other maimed action figures already bearing their battle scars from their previous encounters with you in earlier years. Empty coffee cans and plastic bottles filled with water, anything and everything you could imagine to use.

We had so many years of 4^th’s, every one of them fun and everyone memorable. My childhood memories of this holiday are embedded in my mind back all those long years ago. The 4^th was a child’s delight, an all day affair of fire crackers and fun. My happy memories of those times assured for you, that I would always make sure you experienced at least to some degree, the fun and excitement that a kid should always have on this joyous time, regardless of the local ordinances against such.

I know I indulged your love of blowing things up a little too much at times; the huge firecrackers I secured for you last summer because you had been told by some friends of yours that “they” had obtained the illegal contraband and gloated while you wondered how that was possible. You know I couldn’t bear to have you feel left out and a little jealous that you could not know that forbidden fruit. I also couldn’t have you think that your old man couldn’t come up with the same thing for his boy. Of course now we know that they were really the equivalent to quarter sticks of dynamite and damn were they loud and unbelievably devastating in their destructive power!

Tonight Nick again has taken up your cause and taken over your responsibility for Caranne. He has warmed our hearts and picked up for you and taken your sister under his wing. He and Jules picked her up and are spending the evening blowing things up as you and he did just last year with her at your side. We still had a small cache of M-80’s that I had also obtained for you last year and I gave her two to take with her. I remember last year as you and I lighted one of those damn things in the field behind the church and ran like hell, to get away before it exploded with a din that was unmistakable and immensely loud!

Yes son, another holiday is coming to a close. Your mother is sad and grieves desperately for you as do I. we continue to press on as best we can, teetering on some days and on other days doing just okay. Things will never be the same and with each passing day that fact weighs on us more. Days like this though are the tough ones; they are again, devastatingly brutal reminders that you are gone and our lives are changed to a degree that cannot be measured. We all miss you son, so terribly much and we will keep trying to make you proud of all of us, your family and your wonderful friends. Please take care of all of us and look over those that need you the most. All our love, son,

July 9^th

Buggy,

Today is your sister’s 15^th birthday, again, another first in the seemingly endless parade of holidays and benchmarks that continually come our way to once again remind us of what a precious gift God has taken back.

She will as the rest of us, have to learn to accept and endure this first of many birthdays without you by her side to celebrate and assure she has a wonderful day. She won’t say it, but I’m sure she is thinking of how this day would be if you were here with us. I know it will be a hollow celebration, one where none of us can really wholeheartedly enjoy the day, and because of that, I feel badly for her. It is another wound for her to try to heal, another insult she must bear in an already mounting list of injustices she has endured in her short fifteen years of life.

I wish so badly son that I could take her pain away and make thing right. I wish I could know for sure that she will rise above all that has happened to her and know she will somehow be okay and end up having a complete, happy life. I wish so much that God would let me know everything will work out alright for her, but I accept that that cannot happen and that we will not be given the assurances we so desperately need.

I will continue to pray that you will be allowed to be her guardian angel and that you will keep her from harm and despair. I will continue to pray that you will be allowed to watch over her, all the days of her life and that you will be able to impart on her, some of your love of life, your love of people, and of course, your courage and compassion. Please help her to realize how much we want her to be happy. We live for her now son, to do our best to watch over her and nurture her, to guide her to a better day, and to see her fulfill all the great things that we know she can.

Please son, help her be safe, help her heal……. All my love, Dad

July 15th

Dearest Son,

Another Friday is upon us and again I awake to thoughts of you and how this summer might have been with you here. It has been so quiet and we have not had much company, save for the few visits your friends have made. We worry so about Caranne not being able to enjoy this time and we make every effort we can to prod her to make short weekend trips but she is not up to it. Frankly, we are not really either but we have to try to get away from the house periodically, to make some space between us and our grief and the constant thoughts and dwelling about our lives.

I have finished your room and most things are back like they were and it seems so welcoming and comforting again. I was able finally to listen to John Mayer's Clarity cd last week and it made me feel so good to listen and think of you and of how much you loved that cd. So many things son, remind me of you and I can't spend the rest of my life hiding from them, regardless of the pain some of the memories inflict. It's just something we will have to learn to live with. In time, the memories will be a soothing thing hopefully, that's what we are told and have to believe.

We seem more numb now than at any other time as the intense grief has been replaced with a more subtle hurt, a constant one that never leaves us. We still have the moments when the grief insists on making its presence known and we weather the storm until it has its way with us and then leaves. The daily visits to see you are still the best and worst part of my day, but they are necessary for my sanity and my emotional strength. Everyday I walk into that building, I think about how this ritual is now a part of my daily life until the day I am able to die and see you again. I think about how our lives, your mother's and I, have turned out so differently than we ever could have thought they would. I think about how Caranne's life will forever be altered and about how your death will forever change all the years she hopefully has left ahead of her. I know you will do your best to look after her son, but I don't know how she will make her way without you by her side. She is so strong, but your death will taint and alter her perspective on many aspects of her upcoming life as an adult. We can only pray and hope that God will be gentle with her and give her some clear sailing.

For your mother and I though, our best times are behind us and that's not even fair to your sister to say that. She has always and will give us years of happiness as we watch her grow and mature.I believe she is destined for some kind of extraordinary achievement and I look forward to whatever that is. But for us, we will live as best we can, always looking backwards to the days with you, wondering how things might have been had we not been chosen to walk this horrific path and carry this burden. We will live our lives with you in our hearts, always carrying the quiet pain bestowed on us. I will tuck you in at night and say my prayers with you as I have all these months, and I will awaken and climb the stairs again, to wish you a good morning and again, kneel at your bedside and say my morning prayers for help and guidance.

All these things are all we have left; the mememtos that fill your room, the huge volume of pictures chronicling your wonderful life with us, hearts and minds filled with memories that will have to last what is left of our time here. I hope the time won't be too long son, I need to see you and hold you again...... All my love bud,

July 27th

Hi Bud,

I'm sorry I havent written in a while but you have been constantly on my mind. The last week has been very difficult for me but I just wanted you to know how much I have thought of you and how much I have been missing you. It has been a long hard summer without you here and I will be glad when it is over. I miss you so much son, and I wish so badly to hear your voice and feel your hugs. Tears come too easily recently and all I can do is think about you. The memories have been coming into my mind constantly, as if a faucet has been suddenly turned on wide open. The hurt in my heart never goes away and the lump in my throat and the nervous knot in my stomach seems always there. I hope you are okay and happy. Please watch over your sister and try to help her. She needs you so badly. I love you son,.....

Aug.8th

My Dearest son,

I know I have been silent lately and I feel bad that I havent been writing you as much. Things have been so difficult lately Christopher and I dont want to complain to you about how things have been, We have been missing you so much the last few weeks and its almost like we have taken a huge step backwards in this numbing process of grieving for you. I think there have been alot of contributing factors involved and I realize now that the impending school year is one of them. We cannot go anywhere where we are not reminded that this would be the beginning of your sophomore year at K State and as your mother and I stayed after church Sunday morning to light a candle for you, a family was talking to another person about the upcoming school year and as usual we heard about Rockhurst and K state and all the other subjects we associate with you. It was hard to listen to and again, another event we have to endure and accept.

It has been such a long summer without you and we try to keep busy and try vainly to keep your sister involved and motivated to get out of the house and try to find things for her to do. In past summers, if she was bored or you both were, you would just take off and do something together. She does not have that cushion this year- none of us do. We all miss you taking care of so many things and making things so much better for all 3 of us. I dont know how we ever allowed ourselves to be so selfish that we would come to expect you to make everyone's lives better by simply being yourself. You took so many things on of your own accord and did all of them happily and willingly, never feeling you were being taken advantage of or being put upon. You never saw any of those things you did as being burdensome or tiring. You loved your life so much and saw so many opportunities to be happy and active and you never wasted a day.

Oh bud, so much is happening and yet, so much remains the same. We should have tried harder to get away more often this summer. We know it would have been better for us to do something other than to go to work and come home to this house everyday, with nothing to really look forward to. We did try to get Josie to get away but understandably, she does not have the spirit within her to attempt activities that normally would have been done with you by her side. We dont really either but know we have to try. Now that summer is almost over, we will not have to worry too much about getting away as the new school year will keep us all busy.

I have so many projects in the works and your mom will start a new job soon and we will try to get adjusted and settled in for what we are sure will be a painful fall and winter. You cannot be worried about our situation, we will manage and in time, we will find our way. We have no illusions about it being an easy task and we are reminded daily, sometimes hourly, that we have a long long way to go before this nightmare is less painful.

The memories of you come back vividly and brightly and mostly unexpectedly and those have made some of these days harder. I know in time, all the cherished memories we have of you will comfort us and warm us. In time, we will be able to look back on those 18 wonderful years with you and thank God that we were given such a special son. in time we will be able to think more about the life you lived instead of the way you died. But the memories are so hard to sit and ponder and relive because they make us miss you and yearn for you so much more and they make the hurt in our hearts swell. I hope everything we are working on and doing for you is the right thing to do and I wonder sometimes if we are making this harder on ourselves. I dont think anyone can tell us whether what we are doing is wrong or right. This is not a journey that has a blueprint, there are no absolutes and there are no real experts that can say, " Do this, but dont do that."

We can only do what is in our hearts and what our instincts tell us to do. We will take care of your sister and safeguard her and love her as we did you. We will continue walking this road, knowing full well, we will stumble many times and will weather many more storms. We will try hard son, to keep going. What else can we do? Watch over us Christopher, be happy and free, try not to be too dissapointed if we trip or have trouble, we will figure this out. We love you so much son. I wish I could hold you again. All my love to you boy,,,,

Weds. Aug. 17^th 8 months

I struggled this morning about whether to even post an update on our lives, 8 months out from the death of Christopher, but I feel somewhat obligated to update those that read this page in an attempt to learn about how we are doing, how our lives have been progressing since last I wrote to my journal.

The anticipation of these landmarks is now we know, worse than the actual event. The preceding week is always filled with anxiety and tears and constant longing for our son. We wonder quietly whether we could have done something to prevent this tragedy and as always, we are filled with some guilt but mostly with hurt and heartbreak at our loss. The constant grief that was our companion in the early days has been replaced most day by a more subtle hurt, it too a constant one but more insidious in its nature. It lies right below the surface of our lives, under our skin, like a minor throb, except it permeates our entire being, never leaving and always letting us know, sometimes softly and sometimes as before, loudly and cruelly. As before, there is no way to predict when it will make itself known to you; sometimes in the car, sometimes while you eat or work. Many times though, it is in the quiet hours before bed and as with last night, as soon as the lights went out and we settled in.

Kay and I have become almost telepathic in regards to how we are both feeling at any given time. We communicate silently with a glance, a sigh, a knowing touch on the shoulder or hand. Little needs to be said between us and many times we steer away from the obvious. Our relationship exists on a different level now; more companions and friends, helping each other when necessary. As hard as it is for us to accept our lives as they are now, it is even harder to understand the subtle changes that have occurred between us and of how our relationship has so dramatically been altered. It’s not a bad thing, as we are stronger marriage wise than ever before, as we have been forced to back up to each other to face this event and the world outside. We are outsiders, strangers to the life we now live within. It was our lives before this but now we simply reside inside of it. We are more like ghosts now, moving among the living, neither completely dead nor really living either.

We do some of the same things as before; routine is hard to break, but the sensations and the pleasure derived from those activities is muted and sometimes absent all together. Many times we simply go through the motions in an effort to try to act normal and break the numbing routine that has become our lives. Sometimes there are brief moments of enjoyment as we get away from the house to eat dinner or just have a beer. But these moments are short lived and many times we feel guilty that we are enjoying anything at all.

I have been more shielded from people and questions than has Kay and she still has had occasion to be pummeled with some well meaning person saying the most awful things in an attempt to murmur condolences. I guess it’s so hard for people to understand what we are going through and many times they feel the need to compare heartbreak to assure us they understand. I chuckle now, but the latest one for her was a woman comparing our plight with Lance Armstrong’s bout with cancer some years back and of how he commented that after overcoming the disease, he was convinced it was the best thing that happened to him. To be fair to the woman, she apologized profusely the next day, apparently having contemplated her remarks and Mary Kay’s reaction to them. I shake my head because there is nothing we can do about any of these things. As I tell Kay, “It is what it is”. We can change none of it.

Josie starts school tomorrow and for that I am glad. It has been a hard summer for her and I think the activity will help with her state of mind and demeanor. She will have a full school year, uninterrupted hopefully, to meet new friends and get settled in for a good year. We have so many high aspirations for her and we work hard to take care of her and comfort her. She is so intelligent and has such a wonderful personality, quirky and odd, with a surprisingly lifting laugh and great sense of humor. Christopher knew everything about her; knew her better than we did and took care of her better than we did. We have to take over for him.

As for us, well, imagine waking up every morning, knowing your son is gone, your lives have been radically altered against your will, you have virtually nothing to look forward to, and yet…… you have to keep going. We have so many things to do, from a practical and from an emotional standpoint. I guess we will get better in time, that’s what those who have preceded us in this process say. We will learn to live without Christopher, we have to. We have to because it is what we wants us to do and expects us to do and its what we have to do for Josie, and we want to make her life as good as it can be.

Make no mistake about it though; this is not like losing your parents or your favorite Grammy; my wife knows both those pains. This is something on a scale completely different. There is no recovery from this kind of loss. There is only accepting and learning how to live with the unbelievable grief and sense of hopelessness that follows your every move. And to be sure, we have much more pain to endure. There are many practical issues we are still dealing with, all of them requiring the dredging up of painful memories and visions and they will not be resolved for some time. We do them though, knowing we are helping Chris and his memory and preserving his time here.

Our lives are evolving and changing and the process continues quietly for the most part. Life and its demands, drags us along, the practicalities of living insisting we keep moving. We take small step forward and then viciously will stumble or fall flat on our faces. But we keep going as best we can, knowing full well things will be rough ahead.

We don’t want Chris to feel badly for us and that is really what worries me. I worry that he watches us grieve and feels guilty for leaving. He shouldn’t. In all this time, I have never, never… been angry at him and I know Kay feels the same. We want only for him to be happy and free. I hope he knows that. I’m sure he does.

Aug. 25th
Christopher,

For the second time since your death, all of your friends head back to school, leaving us here to look after you. As I sit here with you today and read Nick's beautiful note to you, I realize that they have to move on, they cannot stay here with you or with us. As hard as it is for me to accept; they will recover from you death, they will stop grieving. It is the way of life, the way it has always been. You are not the first to die and leave behind devastated love ones. You are not the first whose life impacted so many, though I believe beings like you are rare indeed.

Your friends have to get on with living, they cannot and do not want to be left here with us. We understand, though it is a bitter reality. I wrote in my journal many months back while I was deep in grief, that we would be left behind eventually. Eventually is here, and for the first time during these long eight months, I feel it.

My Dearest Son, Sept. 2nd.

I miss you so much this morning and that old wave that used to be so devastating in its damage to me has once again visited me. There is never any warning and you never know the day or hour it will strike but today was the day and I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Friday was the day it chose. For your mother, it was yesterday. She is struggling as am I, as events and a heavy work load from the last couple of weeks has taken its toll on both of us. We want so desparately to go home and lick our wounds but there are too many things to do.

I wonder if you are busy helping others with all the problems that are occuring in the south and I imagine you swooping down and touching people that are hurting, giving them a little hope that things will get better. We could us a little touch too son, so if you can, please let your mother know you are still around and still watching over her. I know you will not let us down. We love and miss you so much. Dad

Sept. 9th Friday

Christopher,

Another friday is here bud and this week has been a long one for me. I dont really know why it has been so hard and emotional. I just wanted to tell you how much I have been missing you and thinking about you. I am keeping busy and I have alot of things I am working on. I hope you can guide me and let me know if the things I am doing are right and proper. I will listen to you and try to follow your signs and use those gifts as my guide. Please look after Caranne and help her be happy and safe as you always did. I will be okey son, just nudge me once in a while to let me know you are still here with us. Look after your mom and help her heal. I miss you boy,

Sept. 19th

My dearest boy,

I tried writing you a letter today and I just couldnt put to words the things that are in my heart. Tonight we will go see John Mayer and I hope and pray that somehow you will be with us as we listen to him. I miss you so desperately son. I love you and think about you all the time. Please help heal my heart.

Sept. 26th

Dearest Christopher,

It's been so lonely without you here and I am afraid I am slipping backwards. Things have been so tough lately and I want so much to not have you worry about me. I know I cannot give up and I know the road ahead is going to be long and difficult and it will never be the same road our family traveled before. Nothing will ever be the same and no experience will ever have the same impact or import. I fear I have seen the sea for the last time and I cannot imagine getting on the boat without you by my side. So many things you and I did together and now it's just me and I don't think I can do those things again and worse yet, at this time, I don't even want to. I stayed in shape so I could keep up with you and even though sometimes I could'nt quite keep pace, I was always proud of myself for not faltering too badly and never quiting. Now I want to stop running and lifting weights and doing all the things I knew I had to because you were in the prime of your life and I could not afford to let you see the ole man stumble- I didn't want to disappoint you.

I promise I won't quit, I won't stop taking care of all that needs doing. I will take over for you as best I can and I will look out for all your friends and will help if I can. There is so much to say and there is so much happening and not quite enough energy to do it all. If you can just give me a push once in a while, like this morning when I was running and wanted to stop but knew I just couldn't and somehow you managed to give me that last bit of strength I needed to finish that last mile. There are many miles left for me to go son, and I will need your help and comfort to finish this one, I can't do it alone. All my love, bud Dad

Oct. 25^th

As the fall begins and this horrible year comes to a close, we are starting to feel more intensely the strain of what will be for the three of us, the hardest months, November and then dreadfully, December. The stress of this year has been tremendous as we have battled to hang on to the small shreds of our previous life and to somehow, find a way back from our son’s death. We have made small steps, insignificant though they may be, but small steps none the less in an effort to find a “new normal” - a life without Chris.

It has been a long year and the final month will for all of us, be the focal point, the source of our hurting; the anniversary of Chris’ death. It has loomed over us the entire year as each month slowly passed, knowing all the while, we would eventually have to face the one month that changed our lives so devastatingly. The pall that has been silently creeping over us is becoming more apparent as the days draw nearer and the awful, painful memories begin to seep into our consciousness. It is an unspoken thing between us, we have been living this way for so long that we have become prescient and easily pick up on one of us starting to creak emotionally. As the days count down, we are all cracking just a bit in small ways as the gravity of this year pulls at our worn spirits.

I keep telling myself and my wife that we will overcome this, that we will find a way to live without our son. It is not a prospect or future that we would choose and to know we have to find that way, no matter how we feel at the present, makes the challenge ahead daunting. There is only so much will and stamina available on any given day. Our new life situation demands though, that we continue to work at this facsimile of life.

We have to continue to press God for help and strength and the wisdom to understand what we are to do and how we are to do it. We have to show Chris we can make it.

“I was thinking, daydreaming really as I cut the grass the other day, about my son and his love of the ocean, thinking about all of our adventures together over the six years he was my only dive partner. It’s hard to imagine how many dives he actually did in that short six year span as many summers, we took more than one vacation and always to somewhere we could SCUBA. These memories are in no particular order, only a proud father’s recollections of a son so special, so one of a kind, so adventurous and fearless and so loving and precious.”

I found the above paragraph today as I searched my “Chris file” for some story I had started some time ago. I have been spending my writing time the past few months concentrating my energy on remembrances and stories for a book of my son’s life I have decided to write. Well to be honest, I didn’t decide to write it, Mary Kay came to me some months ago and told me we had to- that she felt compelled to chronicle his exceptional life. I don’t profess to be a writer and I know the task ahead is daunting and may well take many years to complete, if I am lucky enough to have the mental ability and nerve to try to conjure up the eighteen years of his wonderful life.

I have no firm plan on how this will be done, nor have I done any research on how writers begin such a task. To even contemplate such a undertaking is in itself, almost defeating, especially in my frame of mind. I began a few months ago with a legal pad which has actually become my preferred way of writing as I can go sit with my son while I scratch out in my shaky handwriting, the memories that come to mind. It is fragmented to be sure and I guess at some point if I am able to amass enough content, it will have to be culled and edited and organized. But for now, it is the process and the effort that matters and I must try to forge ahead with this project, finding the strength where I can and when the inspiration and memories show themselves, grab those moments and put the thoughts to paper.

So many events lately and none of them are good. It seems as though life has taken a turn for the worse for many that we know and have known. Every week we are notified of a new death or illness and the pain just continues, for us and for those we know. We are so sensitized to death and pain that we immediately notice any other poor souls who become members of our elite group of the bereaved, and unfortunately, there seems to be at least one daily, one more parent that has to bury their sons or daughters ahead of their time.

Two weeks in a row there were articles in the paper detailing the lives and deaths of young men around Christopher’s age that had died; one recently in Emporia, a star athlete in high school and another athlete, but college age. Both were given several pages in the paper to chronicle their stories and their families’ pain and suffering. Had they been just “ordinary” kids like our son, would they have been given such glowing tributes? I don’t in any way envy nor would I suggest these stories should not have been written. I would not presume to deny these hurting families their due and both stories were significant due to the circumstances of their deaths. No, my point is that there are too many families faced with the death of beloved children. There are just too damn many of us trying to find a way, to find a path, to find some reason to continue.

My interest in the second story is due to the fact that the parents of the college athlete are now nearing 60 years of age, maybe older. Their son died 35 years ago at the age of 21! That is along time to live in pain and the story made it clear through the words of the parents themselves that they still mourn their lost son, they still miss him and still have days they cannot believe he is gone. Thirty five years.

We are in the 10^th month. I cannot imagine having to wait that long to see Christopher again. If I have to, I will. I know there is much pain left for me personally and for my family. There is no way around it. My wife will not make it that long nor do I think God will make her. We just have to hang on for a while, for him and for our daughter. We have to.

Nov. 17^th. Friday

For those that have continued to come to this site regularly, I want to thank you for thinking of Christopher and our family. We come to the 11^th month since we lost our boy and I wish I could say we are better today or somehow finding a way to carry on. I don’t know that we are. I do know that it is still difficult and there are still many sleepless nights and tears and unfortunately, there are still moments when we cannot believe this is our new life, if you want to call it life.

The last few months have been spent anticipating these two months, wondering what they will bring. It seems odd that we could possibly fear enduring more pain. How can we possibly have more that what we have already suffered? No, I think what we fear is thinking about what we have lost, the events that we have missed and all too well knowing, we will, from this Thanksgiving on, wonder what Christopher would be doing, how his college years would be going, and what our lives would be like with him still in them.

Life has certainly dragged us along the past year, and we have followed along, sometimes kicking and screaming, knowing we have no choice but to obey. It is still mostly a solitary existence with little contact with friends and not much outside activity. Family still checks in and Christopher gets a few visitors. His friends are busy with school and we don’t hear too much from them. We try to help if we can and I know that some of them are still struggling to find their way in the aftermath of his death. The ones that need us the most are the ones that won’t or can’t take our help. In some cases, I think, like us, they are trying to show Chris they can make it on their own, wanting him to be proud of them too, so we cannot criticize and must try to let them go their own way. Sometimes though, I think it is us who need them and in that case, we cannot be selfish. But we miss them all, miss the sound of them in the house, and miss Christopher holding court, headlining all the activities.

As the days move to December, we feel the pressure mount, feel the constriction and the weight of our thoughts and emotions bearing down on us. I worry that we will make Christopher sad, that he will regret what happened and what he sacrificed. We don’t want him to ever regret any part of his life or of his decisions. We want him to be happy and to do all the important things he was destined to do. It is our pain and we were chosen to walk this path and endure this burden- and so we will.

Our only hope and plea is that all of you that knew him and loved him, continue to pray for him and keep him in your thoughts as the holidays approach. Pray for his sister and mother, that they find some comfort and peace.

Dec. 6th Tuesday

I feel as though I am on the verge of some extraordinary discovery- a kind of enlightenment of my consciousness, some type of mental, emotional understanding about life. It is not something directly related to Christopher, yet in some way I feel he is either a part of the equation or is somehow involved in this yet undefined revelation. But there is a slowly clearing haze, which is keeping me from seeing and knowing its meaning.

I awakened last night, Sunday night, thinking this thought from the moment I was aware. I was sensing the remnants of a just interrupted dream, one that must have been connected to the strong feelings I was conscience of. I lay there trying to piece it together- trying to assemble the various, fleeting visions and ideas that quickly raced by. What was it?

I remember the dream: An old friend, who since the day we buried Christopher, has never contacted me, never bothered to check in on me, to see if I needed anything or if my family needed anything, was standing behind me as I ate fried chicken at a long white table, filled on both sides with people, some I knew, some I didn’t, all eating and talking.

As I turned to see him, he said; “Hi bud.”

I remember asking him in an accusatory tone; “Where have you been? You know my son died. Where have you been?

As I was speaking to him I recall my voice began to quiver as tears gained momentum with every word I spoke.

He could only look at me with an apologetic expression, slowly shaking his head, at a loss for words. And then I woke up.

Once awake, I realized there was much more going on in my mind, as if the dream was disrupting the other thoughts and images from forming clearly in my sleepy mind. There is something there- something happening. I just don’t know yet what it is or how to access it.

2006 Journal Entries

Feb.10 2006

This is the first post in some time and I just wanted those that are still coming to visit Chris to know how much we as a family appreciate your interest and compassion. We are on our way thru our second year without our most precious, special son. We still miss him terribly, we still have sleepless nights, we still hurt every Friday night and we still count the months and mark each benchmark at the 17th. Has anything changed? I wish I knew. I think this is just how it will be in this "new life". We have moments when we can seem normal and happy and can have a laugh, a muted, more muffled laugh, but a laugh non the less. I guess we will just limp along, making the best of this way of living. We don't really know what else to do. We continue to pray and ask God for whatever help he feels we need but mostly I think we pray for Christopher, for his happiness, that it may continue into his new life, that he never feel regret nor guilt.

We pray for the wisdom and understanding to help his sister rebuild her life so that she can be happy again. And we pray that God continues to give Christopher the ability and energy to come to us when he can, to let us know he is happy and safe, and soaring free!

Feb.14th

Four families have lost their sons and daughters in less than a week, here in the Kansas City area. Four more families devastated by the most unnatural of life events.We are sensitized to it now, and it seems that without even looking, these tragedies come to us. Four more young men and women between 17 and 22 years of age, lost before they had the chance to live long productive lives. Since we lost Christopher, I have been made aware of at least eight teens who have died, including the ones above. And those were only the ones that happened to come to my attention. I don't know how many more I missed. I try desperately not to look at the obituaries and most of these I have learned of through the news be it paper or television.

We send them simple cards to let them know we understand the pain they are in, that's all we can do. One family, Gregg and Diane Kruse, lost their 18 year old son, a avid skateboarder, around Thanksgiving. They have contacted us and we have tried to help and console them. Like us, they are struggling to understand why. Their son was a risk taker like Christopher, a "balls to the walls" kind of kid who lost his life while barreling down a steep hill on his skateboard, trying to time the light at the intersection. It is amazing how much he and my Buggy were alike in regards to personality and love of life.

We pray for them all and unfortunatly the list of names I mention before my daily rosary gets bigger with each passing month and I see no reason to believe it will not continue to grow. It does make me wonder why............

Feb. 22nd

"The first year is like a bad dream."

"The second year is "real"."

"The Accidental Tourist"

Weds. March 8th

We leave today son, for the first time as our "new family", without you. We have to try again and need to see if we can, the three of us, to leave this familiar, safe haven and venture out among the living. I have no expectations but hope we can all find some peace and enjoyment, even if only for a little while. Maybe if we can, that will be a start. Next week when we get back, will be the 15th month and it falls on what used to be my favorite holiday. We miss you so much son. Please look over all of us and let us know you are happy and close by.

I carry you with me into the world,

Into the smell of rain

& the words that dance between people

& for me, it will always be this way,

walking in the light,

remembering being alive together

                                                    b.andreas

June 17^th 2006

My Dearest Son,

Once again, a milestone has been reached - a year and a half without you. So much has happened the past few months: a new family addition, graduations, new jobs for some, and again, the ending of another school year, both high school and college. And again, all of these events have occurred without you by our sides. And not just us, your family- but all of your friends and relatives. We have all weathered these life events without you here to be with us, to help us celebrate and live life.

We are fully enveloped in the malaise of summer and it may be this way for all of us for some time to come. Even a year and a half out, I see how your absence has affected so many of your friends and their daily activities. We have seen many of them recently and in all cases, they seem undirected and unenthusiastic about their brief respite from school. They seem almost paralyzed- unable to choose a direction, unable to summons any real zest for these short months. And every time we see this, all we can think of, is how different things would be right now, if only you were still here.

It’s not just their lack of enthusiasm for what would normally be the time for all of you to plan activities and trips. It’s more than that. It runs much deeper, it’s more profound. It’s about how you energized all of us, gave our lives so much meaning, so much happiness. It’s about how we all depended on you so much and in many cases, didn’t even realize it. And again, you couldn’t have known. How could you have?

How could you have known so many people looked up to you, looked to you to somehow make a day better, their day better. Your very existence made so many lives enjoyable. Just for them to know you were around, their friend and acquaintance, somehow allowed them to draw on your life force, your love of life, to energize their lives. How could you have known?

We also see some still struggling to find a way, a path back. And again, it may be that way for sometime. Your death has made so many question so many things that they previously took for granted. It has also made many question the necessity of many of those things, their importance and relevance in their lives- jobs, careers choices, school.

In time, your friends will find their way and will move on and they may even capture that proverbial lightning in a bottle and travel back to those halcyon days-to the days when your smile and your laughter brightened their lives and made even a routine summer day a good thing, a thing to be remembered and cherished.

For your family, these summer months will never be the same. They just cannot be. Gone are the days of looking forward to our vacations to the sea, watching you eat hamburgers poolside, watching you climb aboard the boat after a great dive with a huge smile on your face. So many things that were summer are just now, memories.

Well buggy, there is so much more to say to you but I have said it all before. We miss you so much. I keep telling myself, I have to walk this path that God has set before me no matter how hard it is. I know I cannot quit. I know I just have to find a way to keep going. He took so much from us and yet, he expects so much more. We will find a way son, don’t worry, please.

All our love,

Mother's Day May 14th

I have to speak for my son today because he is not able to say the words his grieving mother longs to hear. I cannot imagine a time when this day will not cut her to the core and rub salt into her already mortally wounded heart. She misses her "Scooter" so much and what I wouldn't give to take her pain away. I am a poor substitute but I know Christopher is watching over her today and trying with all his might, to make her feel his hug. I know he wants me to speak the words he cannot make her hear: " HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY mom, I love you."

Friday April 28^th

I went to my barber yesterday and as I sat in the familiar chair and Bernie and I chitchatted, the subject of age came up. Those close to me know my age has always been a forbidden subject. Some people are very comfortable with their age and telling others how old they are. I have never been so. I guess my mortality and the thought of growing old always concerned me or was a subject I would rather not think about- growing old.

When Bernie told me he was 61, I was surprised as he does not look that old but when he said the age, it sounded VERY old and it made me start thinking about how long Christopher will have been dead IF I make it to sixty one. It’s not even been a year and a half and by 61 he will have been gone for almost 12 years! It made me sad to even contemplate it and made me think about how we will do this; live this way, day after interminably long day. I know it will not always be this hard, I know it intellectually, but emotionally, it’s a much harder reality to understand.

This has been a hard year, harder I think than the first. We miss him so much and we still cry, at least I do. Its been hard trying to find some satisfaction in the day to day minutia and the projects I have been working on have been more work than satisfaction, something that was not always so with me. I always took pride in working hard and being able to keep working at projects until they were completed properly. It’s not working that way right now and all I am feeling are the limitations of my rapidly aging body with all the associated aches and pains and anxieties that come with it.

We have tried hard to keep going, to do all that needs doing and unfortunately, it seems roadblock after roadblock has been put in our path as if to test us even further. Some things are minor, more exasperating than serious, but some things are of more concern and require energy and fortitude, and some days those things are in short supply, making the problem look all the more formidable and daunting. I don’t know if God continues to test our faith and will power or if it’s just the roll of the dice. Either way, it makes the journey harder and in those times, the thought of giving up appears reasonable.

But we cannot give up. Since the day Chris died, it’s never been an option. He sacrificed all he had and we cannot disappoint him nor minimize his gift.



April 10^th 2006

Dearest Christopher,

Happy Birthday son! Today is your 20^th birthday and your death cannot take that day away from us. We will always celebrate this day and we will always try to make it a happy day because your birth was indeed a gift from God and the start of the best years of our lives. No matter what happens to us, your birth will always be ours, always a day to remember with happiness and gratefulness.

We will try hard today, not to be sad. We have too many of those days to fill our calendar for many years to come and we cannot be sad on the day that brought you into our lives; lives that needed you to show us there was more than our own needs and wants, more than just “us”. You taught us, slowly but surely, how to be parents; how to put someone else’s needs ahead of our own. You taught me how to become a father, a man, someone you could depend on no matter the circumstances. I know I wasn’t perfect and that many times I failed and stumbled but I did work at it hard and tried to do the best I could.

Today we will think of you and yes, we will wonder “what would have been”. It can be no other way. Maybe it won’t be that way in the future, but for now, it’s too early and we can’t help thinking of all that might have happened. We will wonder how we would have celebrated today; would you have come home from school; would you have stayed in Manhattan to “party” with your buds. So many things to ponder today and yet, we have to be grateful that we had you in our lives, to teach us, love us; to give all of us all the wonderful memories and smiles and hugs and laughter.

NO, we cannot disappoint you today. Not today! Today is a day to remember how wonderful you made our lives- how you filled us with joy and pride. Of how you almost single handedly, made this family the happy family it was. We will find some way to go on, tempered by your love and your memories. I cannot promise there will be no tears today but I promise to smile when I think of you and should a tear or two fall, they will be tears of happiness as I close my eyes and imagine your beautiful face and try to hear your voice.

We wish we could know how you will spend your day in your new life. I hope it will be fun filled and that you get whatever it is you hoped for.

Happy Birthday son,

Mom, Dad and Caranne

Friday April 28^th

I went to my barber yesterday and as I sat in the familiar chair and Bernie and I chitchatted, the subject of age came up. Those close to me know my age has always been a forbidden subject. Some people are very comfortable with their age and telling others how old they are. I have never been so. I guess my mortality and the thought of growing old always concerned me or was a subject I would rather not think about- growing old.

When Bernie told me he was 61, I was surprised as he does not look that old but when he said the age, it sounded VERY old and it made me start thinking about how long Christopher will have been dead IF I make it to sixty one. It’s not even been a year and a half and by 61 he will have been gone for almost 12 years! It made me sad to even contemplate it and made me think about how we will do this; live this way, day after interminably long day. I know it will not always be this hard, I know it intellectually, but emotionally, it’s a much harder reality to understand.

This has been a hard year, harder I think than the first. We miss him so much and we still cry, at least I do. Its been hard trying to find some satisfaction in the day to day minutia and the projects I have been working on have been more work than satisfaction, something that was not always so with me. I always took pride in working hard and being able to keep working at projects until they were completed properly. It’s not working that way right now and all I am feeling are the limitations of my rapidly aging body with all the associated aches and pains and anxieties that come with it.

We have tried hard to keep going, to do all that needs doing and unfortunately, it seems roadblock after roadblock has been put in our path as if to test us even further. Some things are minor, more exasperating than serious, but some things are of more concern and require energy and fortitude, and some days those things are in short supply, making the problem look all the more formidable and daunting. I don’t know if God continues to test our faith and will power or if it’s just the roll of the dice. Either way, it makes the journey harder and in those times, the thought of giving up appears reasonable.

But we cannot give up. Since the day Chris died, it’s never been an option. He sacrificed all he had and we cannot disappoint him nor minimize his gift.

Mother's Day May 14th

I have to speak for my son today because he is not able to say the words his grieving mother longs to hear. I cannot imagine a time when this day will not cut her to the core and rub salt into her already mortally wounded heart. She misses her "Scooter" so much and what I wouldn't give to take her pain away. I am a poor substitute but I know Christopher is watching over her today and trying with all his might, to make her feel his hug. I know he wants me to speak the words he cannot make her hear: " HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY mom, I love you."

June 17^th 2006

My Dearest Son,

Once again, a milestone has been reached - a year and a half without you. So much has happened the past few months: a new family addition, graduations, new jobs for some, and again, the ending of another school year, both high school and college. And again, all of these events have occurred without you by our sides. And not just us, your family- but all of your friends and relatives. We have all weathered these life events without you here to be with us, to help us celebrate and live life.

We are fully enveloped in the malaise of summer and it may be this way for all of us for some time to come. Even a year and a half out, I see how your absence has affected so many of your friends and their daily activities. We have seen many of them recently and in all cases, they seem undirected and unenthusiastic about their brief respite from school. They seem almost paralyzed- unable to choose a direction, unable to summons any real zest for these short months. And every time we see this, all we can think of, is how different things would be right now, if only you were still here.

It’s not just their lack of enthusiasm for what would normally be the time for all of you to plan activities and trips. It’s more than that. It runs much deeper, it’s more profound. It’s about how you energized all of us, gave our lives so much meaning, so much happiness. It’s about how we all depended on you so much and in many cases, didn’t even realize it. And again, you couldn’t have known. How could you have?

How could you have known so many people looked up to you, looked to you to somehow make a day better, their day better. Your very existence made so many lives enjoyable. Just for them to know you were around, their friend and acquaintance, somehow allowed them to draw on your life force, your love of life, to energize their lives. How could you have known?

We also see some still struggling to find a way, a path back. And again, it may be that way for sometime. Your death has made so many question so many things that they previously took for granted. It has also made many question the necessity of many of those things, their importance and relevance in their lives- jobs, careers choices, school.

In time, your friends will find their way and will move on and they may even capture that proverbial lightning in a bottle and travel back to those halcyon days-to the days when your smile and your laughter brightened their lives and made even a routine summer day a good thing, a thing to be remembered and cherished.

For your family, these summer months will never be the same. They just cannot be. Gone are the days of looking forward to our vacations to the sea, watching you eat hamburgers poolside, watching you climb aboard the boat after a great dive with a huge smile on your face. So many things that were summer are just now, memories.

Well buggy, there is so much more to say to you but I have said it all before. We miss you so much. I keep telling myself, I have to walk this path that God has set before me no matter how hard it is. I know I cannot quit. I know I just have to find a way to keep going. He took so much from us and yet, he expects so much more. We will find a way son, don’t worry, please.

All our love,

July 14th 2006

A couple of days before the 4^th, we made our annual trip to the fireworks stands to pick up firecrackers and other assorted stuff for Caranne. This is the second year we have done so without Chris, and as usual, it was hard to gather much enthusiasm for the task.

I know I was flooded with memories of all the previous years we had done the same thing; the four of us, and of how Christopher loved rummaging through the tents and trailers trying to find just the right fireworks for their evening’s activities. I had always encouraged the kids on the fourth as I harkened back to my days as a kid and the fun we had shooting off Black Cats and roman candles and all the other things that in those days were legal and no one paid much attention to the safety factor of said activity. Our yard would be a veritable field of confetti the day after; littered with the remains of our fun.

While walking the makeshift aisles of the temporary tent that housed all the fireworks for sale, Caranne and I looked for some of the pyrotechnics we had bought in past years- ones that Chris had enjoyed and had proven to give a good bang for the buck.

We were looking for this round, flat wheel that had sparkling fireworks along the edges. You nailed them to a piece of wood and when you lit the fuse, they would spin at a tremendous speed and showers of sparks and colored smoke would fill the air and loud whistles would pierce your ears.

We talked while we looked for them about how we used to nail them to the legs of the kid’s wooden fort I had constructed in the backyard when we lived on 93^rd Terr. At first, Caranne couldn’t recall the particular firework and after describing them to her she said with astonishment:

“Chris always told me you were supposed to hold them in your hand!”

I said, “Oh, he did not!”

“Yes he did.” “He always said I was supposed to and I would always tell him, “ Chrrrisss, No I’m not!”

“Yeah, you’re supposed to Banner. That’s how they work!” he would exclaim to her with authority and conviction.

Mary Kay and I both laughed so hard as we pictured Caranne’s big brother telling her another “fish tale.” I could just hear Christopher’s voice, the inflection and sincerity, telling her with a matter of fact ness that would convince his trusting sister of his truthfulness, all the while, keeping a straight face as he spun his tale.

Caranne was smiling so brightly as she finished the story and our hearts were filled with laughter for a few minutes as visions of Chris filled our minds and his words echoed in our collective thoughts.

Later that evening, as Kay and I talked about the incident, I told her what I knew she already understood:

“You know your son did that,”

“What? Hold them in his hand?” she said rather wryly.

“Yeah,” I said, looking at her knowingly, watching her face register the obvious.

“Yeah…….I know.”

“The storms that we have weathered have battered us and bruised us.

The winds of change have blown us off our course.”

Cynthia Weil, “Save Our Ship”

I carry you with me into the world,

Into the smell of rain

& the words that dance between people

& for me, it will always be this way,

walking in the light,

remembering being alive together

b.andreas

Feb. 21st. 2007

I stopped and ate my lunch at the small park at the bottom of the main street that runs thru our subdivision today and the small playground was filled with stay at home moms, babysitters and one young father, all watching their young kids enjoying the second mild winter day we have had in several weeks of brutal cold and snow.

I watched as I ate, especially a young little boy, around 3 or 4, running non stop; jumping on the swings, jumping over the heavy weathered timbers bordering the gym equipment, running and playing, his short stubby legs carrying him as fast as they could from one play point to the next and of course my mind was filled with memories of my son at that age- and my heart hurt.

So many years and so many parks and playgrounds did we take him to. Afternoons walking the perimeter of the equipment, carefully watching him play and explore and shriek with delight at every new sight, every trick and jump, every squirrel or bird that would catch his attention. Keeping up with him was ever harder with each passing month and year until at the end, I was no longer able to and our relationship morphed into what time inevitably demands.

To just have one of those days back, regardless of his age; just to wish it to be , so I could see him in flesh and hear his voice and feel his touch and smell his hair. I would give anything, anything.

The winter has been hard and cold and with this sunny afternoon I should feel better and I know he wants me to; doesn’t want me to waste it feeling sorry for myself and hurting at his absence, but I knew when I pulled my old weary bones out of bed this morning that it would be one of these days. We have them, we will always have them. There will be no end of these days and of these emotions. Time will have its way and we will adapt, we have to- life demands it but we will never not hurt, we will never not miss him so much that you physically feel ill, we will never reach a point when we don’t wonder how this could be our lives now. It just is how it will be for the rest of our time here.

And in the heartache and tears we will learn how to cope, we will learn how to survive without him, there can be no other way.

Lyrics from Heart of Hearts by Clark Datchler, Raindance CD

Why do you hide in the shadows?

Are you afraid of the sun?

You’ve got a lifetime before you

And many wars to be won

You’ve got to look to the future

And never dwell in the past

And though you’ll never forget me

Some things are not meant to last

So why don’t you open the door

It’s a beautiful day

Nothing will stand in your way

Just take a look in your heart of hearts

It’s true

For everything there’s a reason

Sometimes it’s hard to define

But maybe you can take comfort

Knowing you’re one of a kind

In the darkness

There’s a light that shines on you

It’s not over, I’ll be waiting

In another place and time

I will still be by your side

Jan. 31st. 2007

We had always thought he would be here to take care of her- to look after her and be her sounding board: to always be what he had been all her life- her mentor, her best truest friend, the one she could turn to when no one else was around. Of course that will not be the case and that is one of the bitterest pills to swallow in the wake of his death. We could have never known he would leave us first and not be here to make sure she was safe and happy.

I don’t write about her often because I have wanted to shield her from the curious, from those in her past that are more intent on “knowing” her pain and tragedy- the ones who left first and never returned and the ones who wanted to harm her or were threatened by her. They have done their damage already, of that they can take comfort.

But she is so strong, so full of steel and like her brother, harbors a strong ethical moral compass. She will survive. I say that with the caveat that we now are forced to always keep with us. She makes progress, slowly, steadily. We see in small incremental steps, the healing and desire to keep going; to find her way back. It is a small thing, but in our lives, a small good thing is tantamount to a windfall, the lotto. It will take much time and we will continue our efforts and we hope that those that know her and love her and understand her will keep her in their prayers and hope good things for her. She has been dealt the worst of hands through no fault of her own. Bad things do happen to good people. Is that life or God?

He had grown up into such a “man”. He had these huge hands, bony and scarred from all of his years of accidents and scrapes. They truly were massive and strong, larger than mine. If you look at the pictures of him skateboarding, you get a sense of how large and strong they were. When I look at those pictures now, I wonder if I truly realized how much he had grown up during his last year of life.

Since we still use his cell phone, I frequently hear his voice mail message, and again, I am astonished at the depth and maturity, the tenor of his voice. And it makes me smile a bit and then it makes my heart hurt. We miss him so much and this year has been so difficult. I wonder if we will ever find our way.

Cristin Weekly sent this poem by Brian Andreas a few months ago. I don't know if she was somehow trying to convey a common feeling among Chris' friends. I think she was- that maybe I have been expecting too much of them; expecting them to be a certain way or maybe to feel more deeply about his death. I don't know. I am not always clear of mind nor am I very good at reading the sublties of others where my son is concerned. Anyway, the poem made alot of sense to me and I believe it speaks for many of his friends.

He had the gift of stopping time

and listening well

so that it was easy to hear

who we could become

And that was the future

he held safe for each of us

in his great heart

You may ask, "What now?"

And I hope you understand

when we speak softly

among ourselves

and do not answer just yet

For our future

is no longer the same

without him

Brian Andreas

Sept. 22^nd.

Today I spoke to our longtime neighbor Mr. Raining. He is moving out of his home of thirty plus years, forced by the eventual maladies of old age, the same ones afflicting my own parents; failing eyesight, gravities constant pull on a body long ago worn out by many brutal years of labor and the relentless march of time, into a retirement community. He is alone now, his wife having died of Parkinson’s a few years back.

He spoke today of Christopher as he does most times we converse and I have come to understand that he was much more aware of him than I had realized. He gets it. He knows our pain, knows the state of our grief. How I cannot say but he clearly had gotten to know my son much better than I had understood.

And again as we spoke, he relayed his understanding of the struggles we have endured these long months. He spoke intimately of knowing the hardships we have been though and when I responded that it was hard some days to not give up-to try to turn this into some kind of “better” life, he gently chastised me by saying:

“Chris wouldn’t want you to give up. You own it to your wife and daughter. You know?”

I told him I knew it “intellectually” but that carrying it our in a practical manner was completely different and much harder to do. Again he reiterated:

“I know. I know it is but you have to. Christopher would want you to.”

His words stuck in my mind all day and I cursed myself that I could not recall the exact sequence of the conversation. It clearly had made a deep impression and I took no offense at his words. His comments, his delivery, his gentle prodding all stirred something inside me. Perhaps it was simply my frame of mind as the conversation took place shortly after I had learned that our mutual neighbor, Debby, had been found dead that morning by her daughter. At forty six she was gone in an instant and another families’ lives were forever changed.

The parade of rescue vehicles, paramedics and police that clogged our small cul-de-sac all morning had already rubbed raw my emotions –had already induced those dreaded flashbacks, my demons I try so hard to suppress.

I had a strong sense though, almost immediately upon learning of her death that Christopher had been waiting for her- an intuitive understanding that he somehow guided her or greeted her or in some way was involved in helping her cross over. That feeling stayed with me all day and I knew in my heart he was close by.

Sept. 17th 2006

Grief and I have become accustom to each other much in the same way close friends learn to accept each other with all their annoying and irritating mannerisms do.

As time slowly ticks away, we have for the most part, declared an uneasy truce- it has allowed me a few moments respite, yet as is the nature of a thing that has no conscience, pokes me with the proverbial stick, to make sure I will still bleed.

Today grief reminded me he is still very much a part of my life. Yes, it is another 17th of the month, another micro milestone, another day to ponder the ways of life and the nature of God. But the blame isn’t really to be laid at the doorstep of a numeric day on the calendar. It is what it is- just another day without my boy.

Weekends are hard. I think they were that way before all this happened. We never really got the chance to get used to the changes that Chris’ departure to school brought about. We never really settled into a rhythm- never really found a way to fill the void, to figure out a new way of going about our lives without him being a regular part.

In much the same way, we never really got a chance to grief for him- to comprehend the magnitude of this event and adjust- as if that were really possible. Other matters, our daughter’s critical injuries and the subsequent hospital stay and lengthy convalescence distracted us from his death, from this life shattering reality.

So here we are on a gloomy Sunday afternoon, limping along, stumbling along, cane in hand as my blind grandfather used to do-tapping the treacherous road stretched out ahead of us, trying desperately to avoid another cataclysmic fall. We know all too well now that it doesn’t matter if your eyes are wide open as you travel- you can never see around the bend.

Sept. 11th 2006

This is no life to live. The three of us live together, but we live separately, alone in our pain, alone in our thoughts, alone in our loneliness- unable for a myriad of reasons, to hold fast to each other for the comfort and strength we all desperately need.

It may change in time and it may morph into something resembling an actual life fit for living people. It may, after the pain subsides, become livable and it may even have moments of happiness. But it will never be what it once was. I fear much of the damage is permanent and we are all on private journeys, though we will still be together under this roof, in this house- the home that Christopher almost single-handedly, molded into the loving, warm, safe haven we immersed ourselves in during those 18 wondrous years…… our best years.