Forever Nineteen

I wonder today, "what would you be like at 24 years old?" Would you have more of a beard? Could your voice be any deeper than it already was? Would you still prefer the short short hair? Would you have your own apartment? A nice girlfriend...or wife? Any more children? Would you still be in the same line of work? Would you have taken your music somewhere you always wanted it to go? Would you have let the alcohol overwhelm you, or would you have won that battle?

A thousand questions with no answers. You will never be 24. You are forever 19. Not a boy anymore, but honestly, not quite a man. But always a son. My son. My baby boy. Taller than me, but my baby boy.

I couldn't go to the cemetery today, which is a first for me. Normally I want to go, to change the flowers, to spend some time. I don't know why I feel this way, and I don't care -- I have learned to feel what I feel, to go with it. This year, 2010, your 24th birthday...no cemetery visit.

Your daughter is so much like you. Consequences? "I don't care." You said the same thing to me. (but I learned from you to not give in -- I can outwait her in a way I never outwaited you)She is playing outside today. Like you loved to do. She digs. She climbs. She hugs. She is generous one moment and bullheaded and angry the next. Like you.

Happy Birthday, son, forever 19.

Paul's birthday

Today is Paul's Paul must have thought this was a
birthday. If he'd lived, he'd great book!
be 24 years old. As it is, he
will be forever 19. Here are
some pictures from 1987.

This is Paul and Laura having a tea party with a Christmas dog. I would love to tease Paul about

his pinky finger sticking out!

Oh how I wish Paul would have continued to have enjoyed helping me vacuum!

Here is Paul helping his Dad fix something. THIS did continue until he died -- the last project they did together was to paint a house.

DUDE!!!

Paul was cool before his teen years!

Busy boy -- who knows what he was doing, but he was intense, as always!

Paul and Laura, so cute!

And....the hospital picture!!! His poor little bruised face! They went away soon, though.

So, Happy Birthday to my boy. This day is difficult. A Mom wants to cook a favorite meal, bake a cake, buy balloons, wrap gifts.

thoughts

I was just reading through our monthly newsletter from Parents of Murdered Children. Here are two good thoughts:

"When we are bereaved we may never live at the top of the mountain again. That's just the way it is. A part of us will forever be sad. But if we let our sadness be more powerful than our happiness, death wins. If we embrace our grief, express the pain, accept it and blend it into our lives, then the joy and happiness of the lives of our children will once again fill us with joy and happiness. Don't let death win; let the life of your child win. Embrace the paradox of grief."Rob Anderson

(on how to help someone through grief) "It is seldom about saying the 'right thing'. It is not our words the grieving and brokenhearted hunger for; it is our acceptance of them as they are now rather than our insistence that they be as they were. It is our sincerity and kindness and patience as they make their way through the darkness on their timetable, not ours. It's

This is me and Paul, Paul at one month old.

Today I have no recent picture to post of my taller-than-me son and myself. Four years ago today he died.

When I was pregnant I got to hear his heartbeat through my belly and see grainy images of him on a sonogram.

When I died I had my arms around him as best as I could, with my head on his chest. I heard his last heartbeats, as I heard some of his first heartbeats.

Four years down the road, the pain is not as intense. I have "accepted" that I will not see him here again on planet Earth. But it does not mean I don't wish I could. I have an image of him....as I look out our front door, I can see him in my mind, as I saw him in reality so many times, walking home. Coming at me across the church parking lot across the street from our house. Black hoodie on. Hands mashed into jean pockets. Scuffling his big boots on the pavement. Head down, shoulders hunched against the cold wind.

I sometimes look out the front door and wish I could see him walking home.

I miss you, Paul. I wish you were here. I wish you could walk back home.

In October of 2005, Paul, Analice, and I went to Pumpkin Junction. Paul was off work because he'd been in a minor vehicle accident and had a hurt neck. I am now so glad he went to the pumpkin patch with us because six days later he was stabbed, and died the following day. These are the last pictures I have of him. These are the last memories his daughter will have of him, as far as pictures to look at and stories to hear.

This is Analice, having lost her first tooth today! A happy moment! But of course it is bittersweet because Paul isn't here to see it. Not here to have her wait for him to get home and say, "Daddy, I lost my tooth!"

The first picture is of Matt and Alexa and their new son. Matt is a friend of Paul's, our son who was killed 3 1/2 years ago. Matt and Alexa were in town and came by to introduce us to their son. They named their son, Paul David, after our son, Paul David. We are so touched! What a wonderful tribute! Thank you, Matt and Alexa!

The second picture is the 2009 butterfly sun catcher we received from the Midwest Transplant Network today. Every year we attend a memorial service sponsored by them. I now have four of these butterflies -- signifying four years without my strapping young son. And four years signifying the new life he gave to people who received his pancreas, liver, one kidney, and a cornea.