July 20th

Today is July 20th which is the day that Christian passed away, two years ago, in 2011.  I’m not actually writing this article today, I’m writing it about a week before the anniversary of his death.  I recently learned that people have coined this day as his “Angelversary.”

I guess I’m going to begin with the overall fact that the entire month of July just plain stinks.  Aside from the fact that we lost Christian in July, it seems as though our community and neighboring communities have been fraught with tragedy this month.  Sometimes it seems very difficult to keep your head above water while dealing with your own grief and hearing about all the fresh grief that other families are struggling to manage.  My heart goes out to all of you.  One of the stories that hits close to home is a two year old girl who was struck by a car and passed away a week and a half ago.  There is a fundraiser in her name today at the fire station that we will be visiting with a basket on Christian’s behalf (I’ll get to that soon).  Cameron and I feel so very alone in our pain most of the time, but we have always hoped that no one else would join us.  I wish that this could be true, unfortunately it is not and our love goes to the Hernandez family.

The beginning of this post is guaranteed to be difficult to read and very random as well as sarcastic because that’s where my emotions are right now.  Let me address some of the comments that have been randomly said to myself and Cameron over the last two years and clarify any cloudy topics.

1.  Yes we are still married.  Despite the overwhelming surprised comments that we have been so blessed to receive from local distant acquaintances and psychologists, our marriage is still ironclad strong.  That’s right we are superhero strong!  According to multiple books about grief we stood an 80% chance of going through a divorce within the first two years of losing a child.  In your face grief, BAM!

2.  No we will not be moving away from Flagstaff because we can’t stand the thought of being in the house where Christian died.  We also will not be exhuming his body to bring it with us.  This is where we raised our sons, this is where both of their memories of childhood are, and this is where we are happy and will therefore stay.

3.  I don’t care how many children you have, be it 2, 4, 6 or more…please don’t tell us that we are so lucky to have just one (whether you’re intoxicated or not), because children are so darn expensive and difficult to deal with.

4.  Yes we put on a strong face at all times and smile when asked how we’re doing and then go home at night and cry.  I just spent the last 45 minutes sitting in a bathtub crying while Nevan watched America’s Funniest Videos.  Let me say that it was a fantastic inspiration for writing this blog and I am super excited about the guaranteed migraine that I’ll have tomorrow morning.

5.  No I am not in a good mood right now, but blogs are meant to be a way of venting to others so they know that they’re not the only ones going through the same thing.

6.  Yes I do think that I’m going crazy approximately 68% of the time.  The good news is that this number has gone down significantly over the last two years from a whopping 100%, so I’m estimating that in a solid 54 years I’ll be back to normal again.

7.  If you read number six, you now know that math is not my strong suit.  Don’t worry I’ll have my nine year old son check those numbers for me in the morning when I’m thinking straight again.

8.  Cameron just came home and he’s in a fantastic mood.  That’s how I know we’re perfect for each other.  When one of us is sad, the other one is there for a pick me up or a shoulder to cry on.  We stay strong together and that’s the way it should be.

9.  Depression eating is a must and I highly recommend it.  I’m pretty sure that we’ve both gained at least 6-10 pounds a piece in the last two weeks.  Fast food, fried goods, and soda are such good friends right now.  Anything green or containing healthy minerals and vitamins is a stranger to our diet.  It’s a good thing that our son is on the right track and tries to steer me in the direction of Subway every once in awhile with a disappointing look on his face.  Don’t worry buddy, Daddy and I will be on the right track again starting in August…

10.  Yes I keep myself ridiculously busy at all times.  From the moment I wake up until the moment that I collapse in bed at night.  I build non-profits, feed goats, chickens, ducks, puppies, parakeets, cats, plant gardens, install new flooring, go to swim events with Nevan, build empires overnight, harass family and friends on a continual basis with sad stories, engrave bracelets, attend Toastmasters meetings because the most perfectly cooked piece of toast has alluded me for far too long, tell Cameron and Nevan far too many times a day that I love them (and ask them if they love me too), I try to cook (emphasis on the word “try”), but I never clean, never ever (at least in my most fantastic dreams that’s true).  Sitting still and thinking is never a good thing, it’s debilitating and must be avoided at all costs.  This method of existence works  and keeps me on the right track but it’s highly possible that one day I might keel over and sleep for 8.5 days straight…I’m just saying there’s a chance.

This brings me around to our traditions on July 20th.  We have tried to come up with a few things to make today a little better (if that’s possible) or at least make other people’s days better while still remembering our beautiful Christian.  A few days after Christian died, we took baskets around to all of the people who responded to his call.  We realized that this wasn’t just a difficult day for us, it was a difficult day for all of our community and all of the public servants who responded and knew us personally.  We fill 7 baskets with food and goodies and bring them to Flagstaff Dispatch who answered my 911 call, Summit Fire Department who were the first responders on scene, Guardian Ambulance who were the second responders on scene and transported Christian along with several firefighters and myself on board, Coconino County Sheriff’s Department who escorted us into town with lights and sirens to clear traffic, Flagstaff Police Department who had officers directing traffic at every light in town and also drove Cameron and Nevan to the hospital, and Flagstaff Medical Center who brought Christian’s heartbeat back after 30 minutes of silence and continued to work on him until nothing more could be done.

We also spend a good portion of the day at the cemetery planting perennials all around the wash that lines Christian’s grave.  Our goal is to one day have the entire area covered in wildflowers and trees.  Last year we were surprised by quite a few people who stopped by to say hi and remember Christian, it was a neat experience.

And finally we spend most of the month trying to remind ourselves about Christian’s happy spirit and enchanting personality.  We know that he doesn’t want to see us sad and that he wants nothing but the best for his entire family.  Sometimes this is easier said than done, but hey we’re doing our best and we’re mostly successful.

Recently I came across this picture of Christian, one which I hadn’t seen since  it was originally taken.  It’s now the screen saver on my computer because it looks like he’s in heaven, sending us messages through his headphones, and giving us the thumbs up sign because he’s proud of our progress.  I know he’s always talking to us and guiding us.  Most of the time we’re trying to listen and every once in awhile we get the message loud and clear, thank you buddy.

Great Job Guys!

Thank you to all of our family, friends, and community members for your constant support during these last two difficult years.  You’re inspiring and fantastic and we are forever grateful to all of you.

Love,

Kari, Cameron, Nevan, and Christian

Comb

Finding ways to remember Christian while still keeping his things safe can sometimes be a challenge.  We chose to dress Christian ourselves before the funeral and all of our family was there with us while we put him in his Obi Wan Kenobi outfit.  We were given a little black comb by the funeral home to style his hair and of course they let us keep it afterwards.  

Cameron’s sister, Tabitha, found a great way for us to display the comb in our house without anyone really knowing what it was unless they were there with us on that day.  

Comb

She surrounded the comb with ads from the 1950s for different hair products and put it in a picture frame.  The comb matches the theme of the rest of our house which makes it blend in nicely while giving it an honored spot on the wall.  Thank you Tabitha!

Friends

My good friend, Jen encouraged us to start writing this blog to help others who may be going through a similar situation.  I think this was a great idea and it encourages us to write down our thoughts and feelings which helps us process our emotions every day.  We were talking about this blog and how it might be a good idea to have guest writers talk about their grieving process through us and our family and what they’ve experienced and felt as close friends and family members.  I’d like to put out this idea to anyone who may feel like writing down their experience and what may have helped them deal with their grieving of Christian.

Here are Jen’s thoughts and feelings:

A Friend’s Perspective

I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I received word that Christian had been run over and was fighting for his life.  A tragedy can sear details into your memory.  I remember listening to Nevan cry in the hallway as Kari calmly told him about his brother’s death.  I can close my eyes and hear Nevan’s voice, his cries and his worries about the future as if it were yesterday.  I can hear Kari bravely keeping her composure, reassuring his legitimate child worries with emotional questions such as “Who is going to play with me now?”  My heart broke for my friend and her family.

I was asked to write about how a friend feels, copes, helps and moves forward after a tragedy such as Kari and Cameron experienced.

Being outside of the family can make a friend feel… useless and confused as to what role to play.  In everyday life, friends are the family you depend on in a day to day basis.  But when a tragedy occurs, the biological family members show up in force and rightfully offer the needed support.  While it is wonderful and beautiful to see families come together, as the friend, it can be difficult to know where your place is.  A friend doesn’t want to intrude on the family time, and a friend certainly doesn’t want to be in the way or any sort of burden.

The night Christian died I couldn’t sleep.  The memories were incredibly fresh, painful and shocking.  Life didn’t make sense.  What did make sense was to help.  When you love a friend in this sort of situation, you desperately want to take some of the pain away and carry it for them.  Although I still wish that were possible, logically you realize that there is really no action you can take that will help.  This is their grieving process and you are simply along for the ride.  I created projects for myself to avoid getting in the way of the gathered extended family.  I helped have the tractor removed, went shopping for snacks, got Nevan a game to keep him occupied… anything I could think of.  When the projects were done, I finally had to break down.  There was nothing left to do but grieve.

When you watch someone you care move their way forward after such horrific tragedy, the focus is rightfully on them.  As the friend, I learned that over time, I was going to have to allow myself to heal as well.  It is easy to think that this tragedy does not affect you, but when the dust settles, you realize that even as the friend you will still grieve, just in a different way.  You certainly grieve for the child, but more than anything you grieve for the parents and for the brother.  You feel sorrow and pain watching them endure such a difficult time and know that the only way to get to the light at the end of the tunnel is to go through the darkness.  As the friend, you stand outside the tunnel and encourage them through the darkness.  It is hard to watch a friend have to walk through that darkness and so you grieve and sympathize along with them.  Your pain is just as real, it is simply different.

I thought that since Kari was my friend, I would know what to say.  I would be able to have some sort of profound effect on her to help her take another step forward in this hell she was experiencing.  But all I could say was “Are you okay?”

I look back and laugh at that silly statement, because there are no words for such a time.  It is meant in a way that means “I can help you carry this load… I will take some of the pain if you can give it to me… What can I do to help you?”, but it never came out right.  Of course she wasn’t okay.  But what else can you say?  A friend is grieving, confused, shocked and sad as well.  Over time I’ve decided that there are no “correct” words for such a tragic time.

Our little group of friends clung together and worked to find ways to help in any way possible.  In ways that friends were needed.  Extended family surrounded Cameron and Kari with emotional and physical support.  As the friends, we surrounded them from a distance with “technical” support.  We fed animals, watered the garden and set up meals.  We wanted to let them experience their grief without having to  console, explain or justify to those who graciously volunteered to provide a meal, so we set up a system to meet the meal volunteers and then personally deliver the food.  We kept a watchful eye over them and listened if they wanted to talk when we were the designated meal deliverer.

When the family went home and Kari and Cameron returned from their trip, they returned to find our sometimes over-exuberant efforts had changed some things.

We didn’t realize that the goats were purposely not being fed much grain or hay in order to encourage them to eat the weeds on the property.  Since we couldn’t spoil Kari and Cameron, we spoiled their animals.  The goats were fat and the weeds were tall.  Their water bill was probably pretty scary because we made sure that NOTHING was going to fail in that garden.

As an outsider in a tragic experience, you just want to help.  You want to help in any way possible.  What I’ve learned over time is that the best ways to help isn’t to over-feed goats or provide snacks (Although I don’t think that hurt!).  The best way to help is to listen and be willing to talk about their lost child.  The experience can be awkward at times due to the subject matter, and it can also be very unsettling personally.  What a grieving parent needs to tell to a trusted friend can sometimes be painful or shocking to hear.  Many times after dinner delivery I would drive to the end of the road away from their home, pull to the side of the road and simply cry.  I didn’t want to add to their grief and yet I wanted to carry some of the pain.  In order to carry some of the pain it requires listening without judgment, which is probably the most painful, yet beautiful gift you can give a grieving friend.

I feel like many people don’t know what to say, what to do, how to feel or how to move forward when a friend experiences such a life-changing event.  I think the most important thing to remember is that a friend is still the same person as before the tragedy struck.  What you had in common before, you still will after.  You can reach out and support that friend, but it will take some courage to overcome the awkwardness and worry about making a mistake.  There are never the “right” words.  Any words will be okay if they come from love, caring and support… you just have to say them.

The Miss Foundation

The Miss Foundation is an online and in person support group for people grieving the loss of a child.  We didn’t find the Miss Foundation, it found us and we are so pleased that it did.  For us, knowing that we weren’t alone gave us some comfort.  It also helped to see that there were other people who had gone through a similar experience and found a way to take baby steps in a positive direction every day.

I think that when you lose someone close to you, there’s a very strong feeling of being alone because the world seems to continue when you aren’t able to find a way to feel like you’ll ever be able to move forward in life again.  Just being able to talk those feeling through in a comfortable setting is a blessing.

Home

We’d like to thank our branch of the Miss Foundation for being such strong and inspiring shoulders to cry on and we recommend their services to anyone who is looking for the same.  Thank you.

Sand and Sugar

To start, I am not the usual suspect responsible for the wonderful content found within this blog. That would be my amazing wife and I am just the unworthy husband. With that disclaimer in place, let me tell you as to reason why my clumsy fingers have found themselves hacking away at this key board. Kari has asked me to write about a recent dream I had but first I must express some feelings I have had over the past year and a half.

Since losing Christian I have been torn between an eternal existence and a temporary one. My instincts, as father and husband, are to protect and be with the ones I have vowed my love to. When your child leads you to unknown adventures, you follow. When they are frightened, you comfort, and when they are lost, you find them. What then do you do when the adventure is not yours to follow? When their fears become someone else’s to comfort and when what you consider lost may be their greatest awakening. I’ve tried to find comfort in understanding that this journey is not mine to understand but sometimes I fall short. Sometimes I find myself wishing for the abyss and the light which follows, in the hope of reaching my son’s embrace. How can I feel this way? I have an amazing wife who loves and supports me. I have a beautiful son who only knows compassion and admiration, for his father. Why are these gifts not enough to erase the want of an unknown world?

To say that I’ve struggled between these two worlds since losing my son is an understatement.  At the same time I find myself wanting more children which would solidify my existence within this plane.  Just months after losing Christian, people started questioning us about having more children.  My wife would immediately answer this question with a no.  The thought of expanding our family scared her for many reasons.  About a year after the funeral, her good friend, Jen sat her down to have a heart to heart about this question.  She ultimately asked Kari what my opinion was on the matter to which Kari didn’t have an answer.  When Kari came home and asked me if I wanted more children I immediately answered, “Yes.”   My  belief has always been that good people should bring more good people into this world.  There is too much suffering and far too much sorrow for some of that not to be relieved by the conscientious and loving actions of others.

So here we are; a husband that is stuck between two worlds and a wife who is scared to bring more life into this one.  How did the two ever meet?  We talked about how this would even be possible because my wife had the Essure Procedure (contraceptive surgery).  For five months we discussed the possibility of having children.  At no point feeling that either of us was completely true to the idea.  I had this overwhelming feeling that my wife was afraid she would be going into parenthood for the second time alone.  Again I never had any notions of ending my own life, but my lifestyle i.e. large amounts of energy drinks, motorcycle riding, challenging fate, and my overwhelming sense of guilt, were not conducive to persuading her otherwise.

We started moving forward with the idea and Jen found a Doctor willing to do the reversal operation for my wife “pro-bono.”  Talk about going above and beyond the realms of friendship!  Despite all of the encouragement that we were receiving from family and friends, Kari was still burdened with the weight of worry.

Then one night I had a dream.  I didn’t know what the dream meant right away but it was beautiful, warm, and comforting.  It sat with me for a couple days but I immediately felt a re-birth and an ability to move forward with my life and family.  I began seeing things that didn’t have much meaning since Christian died, one which included the 87^th wedding anniversary of an elderly couple (one of those odd captions on Yahoo).  I thought to myself that Kari and I could be that couple if I lived to be 108 years old.  Thoughts like this had long exited my mind because I had not since hoped for more years instead of less.  The dream occurred on a Wednesday and the meaning behind it came to fruition that Saturday.

As Kari and I drove around Flagstaff delivering newspapers in the middle of the night, I began to tell her about the elderly couple which had just celebrated their 87^th anniversary.  As I talked about the possibility of us beating them if we lived to be old enough, Kari seemed puzzled.  She asked what made me think about living past 100 years old when in the past I hadn’t expressed a wish to be away from Christian for that long.  It was at that moment that I had an epiphany and said, “That’s what the dream meant!”

Kari even more confused inquired as to what dream I was speaking of.

“Sand and Sugar”

I was standing at the edge between endless sand and infinite blue water.  The sand was overwhelmingly pure and translucently white. I turned to my right to view the vastness of the landscape, which I had been transported into, but saw no end. How could there be no end to this place and no beginning from where it came to existence?  As I turned to my right, I viewed a quaint and beautifully colored beach chair. It was turned slightly kilter, as to obstruct my view of the occupant. My curiosity brought me closer to the oddly yet comfortably placed, piece of furniture.  As I approached, I viewed the top of a small brown hair covered head, that which had not seemed so familiar to me in over a year and a half. As I came closer, the head turned and I was quickly welcomed by the soft glow of my son’s smile.

Christian said nothing but held a large glass, of what appeared to be sugar, in his small hands. He was covered in light and showed no signs of sadness, just overwhelming exuberance. He quickly stood, from his lounging posture, and came to stand directly in front of me. He handed me the glass, with a never ending smile, and embraced me with all the might his skinny arms could muster. I began to weep but knew that I would quickly awake if I continued to do so.  I fought the tears, if only to stay in his warm embrace for a short time longer. To no avail I awoke, not in sadness, but in the love of Christian’s embrace. This was not a dream; it was one of those moments in which we are allowed to glimpse heaven.  But why a glass of sugar?  I pondered that
glass for two days, all the while feeling rejuvenated in the afterglow of that encounter. When Kari asked about my new appreciation for life and the possibility of longevity, I knew what the sugar was. It was sand.

More than sand, it was life. A life which I had not lived and had recently grown unappreciative of. Christian was showing me that the time we would have together in Heaven is infinite, like that of the stunning beach filled with grains of unending sand/time.  This is where he placed his beach chair while he waited for his family to return.  I would have all of that time to be with him but only a glass full of sand grains, in which to experience this life.  The incredible and rare gift of that glass of sand was something to be valued with excitement.  Excitement for the future and what lies ahead for our family.

I told Kari about my dream and she only asked me one question, “Was the glass of sand filled all the way to the top?”

I laughed and told her that it was.  I guess I’d better start valuing what’s in my glass, just like I did when our whole family was together in this temporary existence.