Colored Sand

My wife Darlene is creative.  I don’t pretend to always understand her creativity, and as a card-carrying member of latter day homo sapiens, male division, am probably not meant to understand it.  She can seemingly make anything from dresses, shirts, costumes, cookies, pies, you name it.  About the only thing I can make is a mess – but I’ve found my strength and have pretty much perfected it.

Darlene made the bridesmaid’s dresses for our number two daughter’s wedding (that’s a long, painful story).  She’s always concocting something, and while I may not get it, eventually will come to appreciate it.  I’m in awe of her.

Prior to our wedding, she came up with the idea of having each of us and our four children represented by differently colored sand.  The concept was to have each of us pour a bit of our pre-selected sand into a larger heart-shaped bottle, while retaining another portion in our own bottles to represent ourselves as whole people.  In this way, each of us became part of each other, and it would be nearly impossible to separate us again.

And that’s the point.

We chose to come together as a family.  That has a special significance that isn’t necessarily true of the family you’re born into.

I was fortunate to have been adopted by my Dad on my sixth birthday.  He and my Mom married almost 57 years ago, when I was a bit more than two years old.  Long ago, Mom started telling me that Dad chose me.  He knew what he was getting and decided to go for it, anyway.  I’m sure it was really because he thought Mom was hot and I was like the toy in the Crackerjack box, but it was one of those things that she made sound believable.  It gives a kid a real sense of being special to think that he didn’t just end up with what he got, but that he was wanted for himself.  So for as long as I can remember, adoption has had a special place in my heart.

That was one reason I was simpatico with Darlene’s son, Joe.  Although he was a young adult when we met, we both seemed to appreciate the other for the closeness of our relationship with his mother.  Once it was obvious that she and I were going to be more than just casual dates, and we saw the type of person each was, it was good.  He knew his Mom was safe and happy, and that was really all he was concerned with.  Once I knew he was a man of character, that was all I was concerned with.  In essence, we adopted each other.

Once Dar introduced Joe and Kylee and me, I knew there was going to be a test.  Kylee’s test was, um, unique – but then, so is she.  At the time, she had a couple of iguanas, a bearded dragon, a snake and a couple of tree frogs.  I’m sure there were other members of the menagerie, but this covers the more important ones.  At Dar’s apartment one night, Kylee was showing off the tree frogs when one leapt from her hand onto my face.  I started laughing, which probably put her at ease knowing it didn’t freak me out.

My original kids, Amanda and Michael, were a bit more of a challenge.  They had endured a rather bitter separation and divorce a few years previous, and were naturally suspicious of any new entanglements.  It took a while, but all of us have reached a point where we’re all comfortable with each other.  That’s not to say there haven’t been a few bumps along the way, but with time and maturity rearing its ugly head all of the kids seem to have grown together and truly become a family.  And I can truthfully say that if it weren’t just a tad weird (and really expensive), I would have adopted both Joe and Kylee.

That bottle becomes more beautiful each day.

So, it’s been a while. How’ve you been?

It’s been some 15 months since posting. That seems like an eternity. Let me explain.

There are so many conflicting thoughts; just random strains and glimpses of things to discuss. It’s like being in the tornado scene in ‘Wizard of Oz’ where unrelated things sweep by with no discernible pattern.

Oh, I’d tried writing one, maybe a year ago, when questioning whether I had what it took to actually complete a project. Even turned it over to a professional writer (my brother, Eric) to edit. Irony of ironies, I never completed that assignment, either.

And then, the unthinkable happened. On June 14, 2013, my son Joe was found hanging in his home.

I cry just thinking about that. To think that my wife’s firstborn would take his own life was incomprehensible. To this day, and likely as long as we are here on earth, Darlene and I puzzle over this. There was no sign that anyone noticed that Joe was struggling with anything so profoundly troubling that would cause this. He’d been in the process of divorcing, although seemed to be dragging his feet. He’d become involved with three kids, one of which he’d known since her birth, and was relishing being part of their lives. He’d started a small tree-cutting business with his friend, Chris. In some ways, he’d seemed to be turning the corner and regaining his footing. No one, not his family or his friends, was aware that Joe was hurting this badly. Sure, there were day-to-day issues that we all have. To everyone but Joe, none of them seemed to be more than normal annoyances. But Joe always took things to heart, sometimes to his detriment.

Seven months later, his mother, my beautiful wife, and his sisters and brother have more or less resumed their lives. All of us have our duties and challenges, but we now share the additional specter of Joe’s passing. This has, unsurprisingly, changed our views. Our plans. Our hopes. Our very lives.

Darlene started writing, and continues to this day. It has been so raw, so wrenching, that I have not been able to read any of it. As I remember, her first post included something to the effect that if she could, she would join him. Writing has been therapeutic for her, and she’s worked through her very darkest days. But it frightened me so much, I could not bring myself to read it at all. Maybe someday.

But this post is not a rehash of tragic events, nor is it intended to be a downer. In fact, I hope to convey the positive, sometimes miraculous results and the continuing hope we’ve gained from this.

At the very beginning, Darlene and I were overwhelmed with the support and love of Joe’s friends. They carried us through our shared grief from the day we were notified through the funeral and beyond. We are incredibly grateful for their continued presence and have plans involving them. In some ways, they’ve become surrogate step-children (although they might be embarrassed to admit to that).

Joe’s own sisters and brother have all been a source of encouragement, whether they realize it or not. We are so proud of each of them as they’ve managed to balance their own busy lives with the right amount of support for us. Joe chose his family well.

Darlene and I completed a program called GriefShare. This is a Christian-based program, 13 weeks in length, which takes you through a series of videos and discussions on how the loss of a loved one impacts a person, and how to come out the other end intact. Its motto is ‘From Mourning to Joy’, and if you are willing to work at it, GriefShare lives up to its goals. One of the things that I found fascinating, almost from a clinical standpoint, was that so many people suffer for so long. Most of us have had a loss (not just suicide) but have not had a support group format to help us through the pain. For some, it had been years since their loss, and they were finally given something that would help in their healing. As mentioned, it is Christian-based, so it leans heavily on Scripture. That might be off-putting to someone not of faith, but I imagine anyone would gain something from participating in the program, regardless of beliefs. At times, it is a struggle to go through the classes, as there are lots of tears. But I heartily endorse GriefShare.

Darlene found a group called American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP). This is an advocacy organization, designed to educate the public and lawmakers about causes for, prevention of, and surviving suicide. Our intent is to be much more involved in this program.

But the most life-changing event resulting from this has been our intentional return to our faith. Dar and I were both committed backsliders. It’s not that we were turning away, we just had other priorities. But having your child die has a way of capturing your attention in a way that nothing else can. Fortunately, our Father has been mercifully patient with us while we regain our footing. It could very easily have gone the other way. We all know people that have had tragedies who end up blaming God for them. We recognized the very day Joe died that there were two things to watch for: that we would sometime be angry with Joe, and that our marriage could suffer. We resolved immediately to be on guard against these. In fact, only for about 10 minutes was I mad at Joe, and it’s only because his mother was suffering so grievously. And our marriage continues to be strong, and hopefully an example to others.

The third thing we might have anticipated was that we would consciously turn our backs on God. In fact, we were given the grace to recognize we needed His strength to come through this process intact. He has continually given us healing. That is not to suggest that we understand why this happened, or are ‘over’ it. But our perspective has changed from the here and now to the eternal. We know that healing is a process, not an event.

And for now, that’s good enough for us.

Joe, we love you, and will always miss you. Thank you for being in our lives. We’ll see you soon.