Donuts and Garland

Earlier this week Pam, Christian and I drove to the Concentra clinic in Garland where Jonathan served as the Center Operations Director.  Pam had looked at Jonathan's debit card statements and found where he regularly bought donuts for his co-workers, and we thought we would make a surprise visit.

We went to the donut shop first, and were greeted by a kind Asian women.  Pam asked the woman if she remembered a tall young man coming in to buy donuts for his office down the street, and the woman asked Pam if the young man she was referring to looked like Christian.  Pam said yes, and the woman smiled and nodded affirmatively.

Pam explained that we also wanted to buy donuts for Jonathan's office, but that we did not know what he normally bought.  The woman explained that she did not have enough of what he normally bought left, but  she offered up a reasonable substitute.  As the woman began to load a few boxes with kolaches and donuts, you could see from her expression that that she was beginning to contemplate why we were there.

After a few minutes the woman mustered the courage to speak the question that had been tumbling in her mind, and she asked simply "is he okay?"  After a moment of awkward silence, Pam responded "no," and that our son had "passed away."   The women's English was somewhat limited, and a puzzled look appeared on her face.  She said she did not understand, and again Pam said that Jonathan "passed away."  Still unsure of the meaning of the words, she said again that she did not understand, and I said the words that my wife had hoped could be avoided -- that Jonathan was dead.

A pained expression appeared on the woman's face, and Pam and I began to cry.  The woman had already tallied our bill, but grabbed another box which she also filled with donuts.  She then gave us our credit card back, refusing to accept any payment from us.

I had noticed when we walked into the donut shop that there was a Cross on the counter, and as we were leaving the woman who was helping us asked if Jonathan was Christian.  I answered that he was, and she said "he is in heaven then."  God does indeed reveal Himself in the most unexpected places.

We then drove a block away to the the Concentra clinic.  As we walked in we were immediately recognized, and several people on the staff there began to cry.  We had wanted to visit earlier, and they too, we discovered, where hoping we would come by -- they were hoping to maintain a connection with Jonathan.

The time we spent at the clinic was impossibly bitter-sweet.  It was incredible to hear again how important Jonathan had been in the lives of virtually every person in the clinic.  It was incredible to hear again the many acts of kindness our son had shown others.

Pam and I had only been to the clinic once --  on a Saturday shortly after Jonathan started working there.  He had been so proud to show us around the place, including his office.  But no one was there that Saturday, and now we were able to get a better sense of what his days there must have been like.

In my last blog I recounted the story of Jonathan telling me about his interview at Concentra.  (see A Vapor).  Pam, Christian and I were now standing in the very place where that interview took place, with two of the people who had been involved in the interview.  It turned out that the moment he feared may have cost him the job in fact was actually a "deal sealer" -- not a deal breaker -- for at least one of the ladies conducting the interview.

There are many more stories I could tell from that day, and perhaps I will be able to at some point.  But the words that really stuck with me came from the physical therapist, who obviously had been very close to our son.  She said she had been asking God "why?"  And then she said that it was as if God had sent them an angel, but only for a year.

Pam and I are so grateful to all of the people at Concentra Garland for their time, their remembrances and, of course, most of all for their love of our son.  We will be back.  I promise.

I wish that I could find the words to convey the variety and depth of emotion that I experience each day.  Perhaps some day those words could help another parent in our circumstance in some way.  What I can say is that despite the many people who are praying for us and supporting us, I often feel alone.  I wish my father was here to help me through this time.  I wish that Jonathan could tell me all about his new life.

The other thing I know is that as difficult as this journey is, it would be impossible without faith in Christ and without the support of an incredible church family.

God bless.  If you could continue to pray for our family it would be greatly appreciated.