Year Five December 17^th 2009

*

I caught myself a few weeks back during a busy workday daydreaming and pondering the upcoming Christmas holiday. And as I carried out some menial task I suddenly caught myself actually looking forward to the day. It wasn’t some hugely uplifting revelation lest I lead you astray. No just for a moment or two I realized I had caught myself sporadically having brief flickers of hope and anticipation at the upcoming holiday.  I distinctly remember my surprise and bemusement at myself that I would dare to let a rogue thought such as the possible enjoyment of the Christmas holiday pass my sentience .I think it’s the first time since Christopher died that this anomaly has occurred and frankly it bothered me and for the rest of the day I made a conscience effort to push away any more such notions.

Christopher’s death shattered our lives, brought us collectively to our knees and our recovery as it were; our journey to find a way back as a family has been a painful, desperate, lonely trip punctuated with numerous detours, abrupt stops, endless tears, heart wrenching memories, terrifying flashbacks and a myriad of feelings between and at either end of the emotional spectrum. There are times Kay and I reflect on how we ever made it this far, the three of us and at those times non verbally give ourselves an ‘ Atta boy’ punch in the arm; briefly acknowledging the strength it has taken to continue. It is not pride so much as amazement and disbelief.  We have weathered much.

But again I struggle with a central theme to focus on; an idea or thought summing up the past year. As with last year, I want to try to be more positive, more hopeful. I want to try to see the good we have been blessed with. I want to believe God is helping us and I want Christopher to see us at our best.  And I think maybe the theme of this year’s summary is perseverance. This has been probably the busiest year our family has had of the last five.  We have traversed so many life events this year, the three of us, all of them important, stressful and trying but nothing too traumatic. The three of us have endured many changes and looking back we did ok, we held up and we kept going.

Our lives have changed so much over those hard years. The energy it has taken to get this far, the determination and fortitude- the sheer will necessary to continue is incalculable. Kay for the first time in her long career in the telecommunications industry faced certain layoff and the very real prospect of being out of work. And a literal last minute job offer assured her of continued employment. Caranne started her sophomore year at the Art Institute, moved away from home after a busy summer working and into her own home in Westport. That major event alone brought much stress and anxiety to her and the acclimation to that paradigm shift coupled with the adjustment to a new room mate made the mental and emotional transition even more demanding. For me a new job which kept me busier than I have been in over 20 years brought about much self doubt about my ability to keep pace with all that filled my plate; two and a half jobs, two homes to maintain and my other usual obligations.

But the holiday season is here, school is out and Caranne is home again for the second time in as many years. We have made it a full semester and a half longer than did Chris when he started his college career. She has lasted a year and a half longer than he did despite obstacles and odds that must have to her seemed insurmountable. To start anew on a whole new life, her years in college must have been too reminiscent of those early days in high school when she was forced to continue the early first months of her freshman year of high school in wheelchair- hips shattered, psyche worse. The determination and perseverance that must have taken is beyond my ability to comprehend and my admiration and love of her has intensified. She has weathered much more than most could bear or imagine.  The loss of her brother is beyond understanding and what it has done to her is also a fearful unknown.

The upheaval of her calm, happy life was shattered that night five years ago. Not that things were perfect for her- they most certainly were not. We understand now and acknowledge our failures as her parents. She had been neglected and minimized, not intentionally as we loved her as much as he, but by parental laziness and complacency and mostly by Christopher’s constant willingness and selflessness.

He was so easy and accommodating- quick to love and embrace, to agree and defer. She on the other hand was combative and constantly questioning-pushing for answers-logical and pragmatic with no grey area or traditional parental ambiguities. They could not be more different. But together they were magical- together they were a love most deep and pure. And I think she was at her happiest with him by her side even though she was at times minimized and forgotten. With him all things were possible for her. She could speak her mind, she could tell him everything we could or would not listen to- her darkest fears, her angriest opinions. And he could take all of those things in stride and know what to say to allay her fears- what to do to brighten her spirits. He could right every wrong, he could straighten any misdirection.

But she has been so resilient, so tough- like her brother. They share so many traits yet are so different. She has fought and clawed and stubbornly refused to quit. But like us, she is not healed and I fear her scars run so deeply, it may be some time before she allows herself to acknowledge the magnitude of her loss. For now she is our caretaker; another burden she has saddled herself with- to now be the glue that holds this family together, again like her brother. She worries and frets about how we are doing and takes to heart every stumble we take- every trial we face away from her. Her shoulders have grown to bear the burdens we saddled upon Christopher. She remembers and commemorates him in her own silent way, choosing not to share those private moments with us. They are too personal- too painful. She will not allow us to take any of her pain away. Maybe the pain is what fuels her stubborn refusal to quit. Maybe as I believe, Chris has been guiding her all along as he always did- only in unseen and unknown ways, speaking to her in her dreams or deep in her most private of moments.

And now on the eve of the fifth anniversary I wonder as I do so many times; what does Christopher think when he sees us now? I wish I knew what he expected of us, what he thinks of how things have gone since he left. I worry that he may be sad or feel guilty or worse yet, feel responsible for the mess we are in. He is not. Kay and I are home alone pacing and restless while Caranne is back at her home in Westport. Nick and Nate, Chris’ two closest friends called and wanted to come see her. I hope it’s because they want to spend this eve with her- to help her cope, to help her laugh and be happy. I know that they share with her what she cannot allow us to see. They now have to be her sounding board- to take up where Chris left off. I know that given time, they will learn to take care of her, to be there for her- to help her find her way in Chris’ absence. They will learn to become more selfless as he was. Jules is still in Phoenix, studying and working.  She emailed the other day and apologized for not being able to be with us Saturday for the Memorial Mass at Rockhurst. She has worked so hard over these last five years to try to get beyond all of this. Chris’ death shattered her. How could she have expected it- how could any of us?

Pictures from Saturday evening with the boys at Houlihans

And we will again weather our sixth Christmas without our boy- my ‘buggie’, Kay’s ‘scooter’, Caranne’s hero and confidant. We still miss him so much and still we all have moments, too many, when his death still cuts deeply, brutally- I don’t think that will ever change. But still we will commemorate the 17^th in honor of his beautiful spirit and life. We will not let him pass unattended nor be forgotten. Our remembrance of his life and our actions is all we have left to show him we still miss him, still need him, and still cannot figure out how we lost him.

And his tree is brightly light again this year, the star glows blue and white atop the now almost 15 feet tall blue spruce. I remember the day he confessed to breaking its tiny trunk while trying to hurtle it the night before during an evening with friends. I was so mad at him and the two of us lay on the ground with white cable ties, trying to truss and repair the angled split in the trunk. Even now years later the white diagonal scar bears witness to his antics.

Like us it has persevered and slowly repaired itself. It has healed from the wounds Chris inflicted on it unintentionally. We have not. Harm was never his intent- only fun and excitement. He lived large and full always looking for the next thrill- the next adrenaline rush. He lived on the edge always skirting and darting, precarious and teetering. It was the way he was, the way he was wired from the day of his birth.  He was always looking for the next thrill or something simple that could make him smile that broad bright smile.

So on this fifth year our hope is that his friends and his family don’t forget him and what he was to them personally. On this night we hope someone is thinking of him and their time together be it as girlfriend, lover, confidant, tutor, best bud, close friend, skateboarding companion or an admirer who always wanted to get to know him better. We hope and pray that he will never be forgotten especially during this time of year. He meant so much to so many people but the passage of time erodes even the brightest stars. It is the way of life and of death. And we know that having made it this far, five years, we likely have a long way to go before we see him again- a very long time.

“It’s not over,

 I’ll be waiting in another place and time

I will still be by your side”