Year One

There were a couple of times last night, I have to admit, when I wondered in passing about the score -- or at least about which team was winning.  With all of the hype surrounding the Super Bowl, I expected it to be a pretty good game.  And, I even knew some of the story lines.  Avoiding awareness of it completely, after all, would have required living under a rock for the last couple of weeks.  But looking up the score on the internet, or God forbid turning on the television, was simply not an option.  For millions of Americans the Super Bowl is a great party and a great escape.  For me, it is a bitter reminder of our new reality.

A year ago today, not long after this game had ended, we got word that Jonathan was no longer with us.  The details of that night are still far too painful to recount in their entirety.  Maybe that will always be the case.  I can say that my first reaction to the news was shock and disbelief.  My second thought was that the information was just wrong.  I thought if I jumped in the car and raced to where he was Dad could still fix things.  There was still time for a miracle.  Even when the police officers told me I was too late I still didn't believe it.  I remember asking them three times if they were sure.  Three times I asked -- three times they gave me the same answer.  

Of all of the milestones of this year -- the birthdays, the holidays and other family events that will never be the same -- the passing of one year has been the most unbearable in many ways.  It is a difficult thing to completely understand or to rationally explain.  In part, I am sure, it is because the "anniversary" has made it almost impossible not to think about the details of that terrible night.  There are so many reminders.  So much is familiar -- the chill in the air, the football chatter ....

I also think that with the passing of a year my ability to pretend it didn't happen -- denial -- becomes that much more difficult.  Reality seems to be setting in.  And then there is this fear that with each passing day my memories of him become more faded -- more dependent on home movies and photographs than on actual recollections.

As a family, we continue to struggle to find our footing.  As of that February night, none of our kids had really left home.  None had gotten married, moved away (except for school) or really started their lives independent of the rest of us.  We were constantly together.  And, Pam and I were in no hurry to see that change -- although it was evident those kind of changes would soon be upon us.  But then, of course, everything changed.  Our perfect family of five became a broken family of four.

Having said that, I marvel at how Pam, Dani and Christian have made it through the last year.  Dani and Christian not only lost a brother that night, but he was also their best friend.  And Pam endured the worst thing that any woman can endure -- losing a child.  But, we continue to find our way -- painful step by painful step.

And, somehow, some way, God continues to bring healing, and even to use our pain to help and minister to others.

I hope that today our family, and the many others who knew and loved our son, will find a way to look beyond the tragedy that this day represents and remember the good times ... his huge smile, his unbridled excitement, his ridiculous sense of humor, his generosity and his overwhelming impact on all of our lives.

I was recently thinking of one night in particular when Pam's Dad ("Papa" to the kids) was in town and Jonathan wanted us all to go to an Italian restaurant he had found in Addison.  It turned out to be a very nice place -- one of these places with white table cloths and older gentlemen waiters.  It was also really pricey.  When "Papa" tried to get the bill, Jonathan had already taken care of it.  There was no way the kid should have been paying the bill -- honestly he really couldn't afford it.  But when Papa protested, Jonathan just said "Papa, you do so many nice things for all of us, I just really wanted to do this for you."

I have only seen Papa cry like that a couple of times in my life.