This is a hard post to write. Not because I am tearing, or because it is overly emotional. It is because I don’t know how to start it or how to put it.  I guess the best way it to say it right from the start.

I am going to meet my grandson for the first time this weekend. Andrew’s and Jovi’s son. He is about eighteen months old and it is the first time I will see him. Dorothy was there for the birth, and Andrew and Jovi spent time with him last spring, but this is the first time I will see him.

Now for the backstory.

A little over two years ago, after they had been living together for a while, Jovi got pregnant. The two of them spent that summer in our home here in NY and Jovi did not know what to do so they waited until they returned to Boulder to take the test and it came back positive. After some thought and conversations they decided to keep the baby full term and put him up for adoption at birth. They called Dorothy and I and we fully supported their decision.  They knew, as did we, that they were too young to keep the baby, and Dorothy and I were to old to start again with a new baby.  They wanted this baby to have a wonderful and fulfilling life and the best way for that to happen was to let go of him to a loving family who would raise it as their own.  For those of you who don’t know, Jovi was adopted herself.

The next several months were pretty amazing. We traveled to Boulder every other week to take jovi to the doctor, to meet with adoption agencies, to sign papers with them, and to make sure everything was going well.  They learned about and decided on an open adoption, which meant that they would be  a limited part of the babies life, seeing him once a year, getting pictures of him regularly, and knowing how he was doing. It was pretty amazing to see this young couple mature so much and make all of these decisions and be so responsible. Dorothy and I were there to help them, but make no mistake, they decided on the family themselves, they went to court to sign the papers, and they did everything. We were standing behind, offering them advice and supporting them the whole time, but it was their process.

The family. One decision they made was that they were eventually going to return to New York and they wanted to be close to him (yes, it is a him), so they chose a NY agency to lead the placement. They looked over dozens of very detailed family profiles and had to make the hardest decision of their lives – who were they going to give their own flesh and blood over to. Andrew wanted the baby to be the first child that this couple had, he wanted it to be special in that way. Jovi wanted a family that traveled and saw the world – something she was never able to do but wanted her baby to have the chance for. They wanted a family they said that would spend time with the baby, rather than one that said that the family was wealthy and the baby would always be taken care of.  They did eventually chose a family from Long Island. Far enough that they would not be tempted to go watch him from afar, but close enough that they could feel him nearby.

They first did a Skype session with the potential parents.  I met the couple at the office before the Skype session, then they met Andrew and Jovi, and that went so perfect. They are warm and loving and we could all sense that. Then the couple went out to Boulder to meet them later on, which also went well. Andrew called us and he was so happy to meet them and his intuition told him how loving they were and how grateful his son would be raised by such wonderful people.

The baby was born in January last year, a few weeks early, happy and healthy. Dorothy arrived in Boulder a couple of hours after the birth and spend a week or so with the three of them for moral and physical support. We have many pictures of all of them with the baby. The adopting family arrived the day Dorothy left for home and spent several days with Jovi and Andrew in the hospital. Because the baby was small, and because it was an adoption, he spent a couple of weeks in the hospital. They did not want him to be alone, so Jovi was kept in the hospital as well.

People ask us if I went out there when the baby was born. No, I did not, or could not. I could not handle it and we all knew it. I spent way too much time with them during the process and was an emotional wreck at that point. If I had went out there and saw the baby, held the bay, looked into his eyes, who knew what would have happened. So we all made the decision for Dorothy to go at that point.

It was a very hard day for them when they left the hospital – alone. No matter how much you prepare for it, no matter how much you know you are doing the best thing for the baby, no matter what – it hurt them so much letting go. The baby stayed in Boulder another couple of weeks for legal reasons, and they spent time with him during those days. They called every night and told us how wonderful the couple was and how the baby was growing and eating and smiling.

They knew they made the right choice.

Andrew went back to studying, he just was in the middle of his Junior year. Jovi slowly went back to working. Every month they received pictures of the baby and exchanged e-mails with the parents. We cherish those pictures. They both had their son as their screen savers, background images, keychain pictures and on the wall next to their bed. As Dorothy and I do now.

Andrew was so proud that they changed the lives of a couple who could not have their own child

What gives us great peace is that Andrew and Jovi went to see the baby when they were here in New York. They came home gleaming and bragging about their son. That visit made their spring. The picture we love the most these days is the one of Andrew holding his son. Now it is time for me to hold his son, for a few minutes.

We keep in touch with the parents, they still send pictures, we exchange emails, they even came to Andrew’s funeral – which meant more to us than anyone could imagine. They have pictures of Andrew as a young boy, as well as a young man.  We have been writing letters to the baby and talking about Andrew and Jovi so that when he grows up he knows them through our words.

We have told people in person about the baby when we see them. Andrew’s friends tell us that he talked about his son a lot, with pride and honor gleaming from his bright face. Now it is time for me to meet my grandson for the first time. Nicole is going with us, she is excited to meet her nephew for the first time. There is so much more I want to say, and need to say, but I am going to keep that for later. I want to talk about how we feel, about the fact that a part of Andrew is still alive and how blessed we are to have him around. But more to come soon.

I hope you are as happy as we are about this. We are at a loss many times with our feelings, so happy at times when we look at the pictures, and yet so sad that Andrew is gone.

Happy Father’s Day, my son.  You’re first one in heaven. Your son will miss you his entire life.

Andrew’s days experimenting with lemons

We all give and take advice from many people throughout our lives, and this is one of those times where I am not giving advice, but rather talking about a decision we made, and continue to make through our lives.   For some people, this is a relevant discussion, for others, and for other reasons it might not be.

During our children’s lives we tried to provide for them.  We struggled to give them good, fun lives. We gave them, or hope we gave them, a good childhood filled with love, memories, and mostly whatever they wanted.  We took them on a few cruises, they went to summer camps when they wanted to, they had good equipment when they played sports, and we ate out at their favorite restaurants when we could.  We tried not to have our children want anything that they could not have, but we also wanted to provide them with whatever they did want that was within reason. Thankfully they were pretty reasonable throughout their childhood.  We tried to teach them the balance between getting what they wanted to live a fun life, and being financially responsible in what they wanted.

Was there a cost to this?  Of course there was.  Sometimes we had to carry a balance on our credit card for a while until we paid it off.  Long term we don’t have a lot of funds in our retirement accounts, and will probably have to work longer than we had wanted to.  We made a choice, maybe not a one time choice, but maybe a series of decisions throughout the past twenty one years that really did become one choice.  We put our kids first, and our retirement second.  Was it a good choice?  Who knows.  Let’s see how we do in retirement.  But in hindsight, and with the way things happened, we are happy with the choices we made.

Andrew experienced so much in his short twenty one years.  He traveled to many places, he became a certified Scuba diver and went scuba diving in many, many places, he went to the college he wanted to and skied in Vail every weekend. He had good hockey equipment, he had a snowboard he loved and was proud of, and traded going away to camp one summer for a very nice paintball gun he loved to use.  I am glad that he had all of this.  I know he was happy, and as anyone who knew him knows – he was not materialistic at all.  He asked for things, but was always reasonable.  He would buy his boxers and t-shirts at Target because they were cheap and fine for him.  But he liked to buy his shirts at Abercrombie, because he liked the way he looked in them.

He also knew he was loved.  Not because of what we bought him, or where we took him, or what he had, but because he felt it in his heart.  He could feel the love.  He knew we never missed his hockey games, we never missed his soccer games when he was a little boy. Getting to our kids games and showing the our support was our highest priority.  I went to every bar and bat mitzvah lesson the kids had to make sure they knew what they had to know, and to help them when I could. We made it to every school play and every concert they were in.  They were, and still are, our lives.

So what am I saying to people?  That depends.  There are plenty of people who read my posts and have a hard time making rent every month, and maybe take a short vacation every year to the shore.  Others who read my posts have all the money they ever will need or want, and their children never know from want or need, and are provided with vacations, toys, equipment, whatever.  And then there are those in the middle – like us.  Every thing we buy we make a choice. Each expense that we pay comes from somewhere, and it usually has to come out of somewhere else. If you work late every night and don’t see your kids too much during the week, that is fine, it is your choice.  But then don’t be upset when they grow up and you are not as close with them as you would like to be.  Sort of Cats in the Cradle situation.  Maybe you can provide for them financially, and at age ten they have their college completely funded, but did you watch them play soccer on the weekends and take them out to dinner just to talk?  How many of us have heard stories of parents who worked themselves to death in well paying jobs, only to leave their families with lots of money – but only one parent.

Don’t miss your kids growing up.  Don’t miss out on the most joyous things you will ever see – your kids in a concert in third grade, your son making his first score in soccer or hockey, your daughters first recital, whatever is important to them.  These things will never be relived, and trust me, your kids will remember that you were there throughout their lives – and they will appreciate it.

For us, maybe we won’t have enough to retire when we want to.  Maybe we will have to work a few more years, maybe we didn’t get a fine piece of jewelry or a nice watch when we traveled.  But we where happy making sure our children had what they wanted, and we taught them the value of a dollar along the way, as well as the value of their parents love.

Andrew showed me some tie dye shirts he bought when he was in Boulder, and to my surprise he told me he bought them at the Goodwill store.  He went there while he was doing his laundry in town.  He also had several knick-knacks in his apartment from a place called The Box in Boulder. It is a place where people donate stuff, just drop it off, and others come and take what is there.  No charges, no records, just a nice place to exchange items.  We brought a lot of Andrew’s items there because he learned about charity from giving the stuff he didn’t use anymore to The Box – some pictures, old electronics, speakers, clothes – he donated a lot while in Boulder.  Andrew was a very compassionate person, and he always gave a homeless person a dollar, or the change in his pocket. It was important to him to make a difference in someone else’s life.

Is this advice? I hope not. I am not preaching, I am not telling you how to live your life or how to save your money.  What I am just saying is to look at your priorities.  If your retirement means that much to you and you want to stop working at sixty, that is fine.  If you can’t see your children’s soccer game because you have to work Saturday or lose your job, that is fine, it’s a choice you don’t have. But let’s face it – our kids are our lives for most of us, make sure they know it.  I know deep in my heart that both Andrew and Nicole know they are our first and only priority in life.

I hope I don’t offend anyone with this entry, but this topic has come up in so many conversations over the past months that I just felt I wanted to write about it and express my feeling.  If your viewpoint is different, I do understand.  If you also do not to have children, by choice or not, I hope you are not bothered by this post, but maybe you can take something else away with you. The opinions stated in this entry are just mine.

I see you everyday.

I am at all of Nicole’s games, so proud of her.

Often I am right next to you, in the same room with you watching what you are doing. I am so close I can feel your breath, I can see into your eyes.  I am there and I watch you work for hours. I am next to your bed at night protecting you, and I watch Nicole at night and make sure she is safe.  I travel around and watch over Greg and Todd, and Katie, and Wally and Matt.   I was so proud of Katie and Todd at their graduations – I was sorry they could not see me, but I walked down the aisle with them and stood behind them with my hand on their shoulders when they received their diplomas. I was standing there so proud when Nicole dressed in her college jersey for the first time and stepped on the ice and in the net the first time.  She could not see me, but I know she knew I was there cheering her on like so many other times.  I stand outside Mommy’s office every day at work and see how hard she works and admire how smart she is and how much she has accomplished – I should have told her this more when she could hear me.

I miss everyone so much – as much as you miss me.  But I try to say hello once in a while.  I will play with your GPS, or the lights, or move your computer screen around when I can – I am still learning how to do that so be patient with me.  When I get lucky I come visit you in your dreams, like before Nicole’s games or on Mother’s Day.  I might blow out a candle one day, or come to you as a butterfly.  I try to communicate in so many ways, but you can always sense me near you.  You can’t see me, but you can feel me, you can feel my love, you can feel my compassion – and that is all that I am now.

I am trying to help Jovi. I know how lost she is and how she feels so alone.  She knows how much I loved her and how much she loved me.  I appreciate all that Dad is doing to help her, and hopefully she will find someone to love one day and live a long happy life.  I look down at my left hand and see the wedding bands we got each other and it reminds me of her love.  It reminds me of our unconditional love for each other.  Thank you for giving me that to have with me forever.

There is so much love now around me, all the people I knew before.  All the people I missed so much and I cried over – Poppy and Uncle Cy and Aunt Flo and Uncle Herb, and so many more. There are also those I never met before but I knew so much about – like Grandpa Gary. They talk to me all the time and tell me how wonderful of a life they had, and how blessed I was to have had such a full life. Although it only lasted a short time, it was amazingly full or love, experiences and challenges.  As Daddy has said so many times since I left you – I lived more in my twenty-one years than most people live in a lifetime.  When I do relax here, I lay my head on Daisy, and cuddle with Louie and Punky. Daisy runs around pain free, she has no arthritis here, and jumps up and down with excitement.  She is like a puppy all the time.

I see Daddy in his office every day, and I cry along with him.  We had so many plans together, there were so many hopes and dreams that will never be fulfilled.  There were so many things Dad was looking to pass along to me – his father’s cuff links, his tallis, pictures, stories, and so much more. Now they are in the house with no clear future. I know he will find someone that will take these items one day and keep them as precious and as valuable as he has kept them for years, and as I would have kept them. It might take time but I am sure they will find a home.  I know he can’t go skiing anymore or scuba diving or surfing – those were our activities – our bonding time. But maybe one day he can carry on and go with Nicole and Mommy, or Greg and Todd.  Hopefully one day he will realize I will be there beside him when he does, not in the doorway blocking him from these things we used to do together.

I miss being called Thor, or Boo Boo, or even Andrew.  I miss that so much.  I miss being hugged and feeling the love.  I miss Mommy running up to me and hugging me every morning like she had not seen me for months.  I miss the smile on her face.  I miss her happiness.

I am also at peace.  Like I was when I was a little boy.  I have no anxiety, I have no stress, I have no ADD or OCD or anything else, and my kidneys don’t hurt me at all.  They don’t even know what that is here.  Uncle Cy and Aunt Flo play golf and they can swing their clubs painlessly, Poppy tends to a garden that never dies and is always watered.  He can kneel without pain and work all day, he is so happy in his own garden here.

I carry around some change here too, the beautiful Colorado state quarters.  I put one down on the ground once in a while when I know you are around, or in your car, or in your pocket. Not just for my family, but I know my friends have found these precious coins as well.  It brings joy to my face when I see the smile on your face when you pick it up – knowing it came from me.

There are so many things that were left unsaid.  And there is no real place or time to start to say them now.  I know how much I was loved – I was told it every day.   Maybe I should have said it more often, or showed it more often.  But I am at peace and you know how much I loved, admired and looked up to you, both Mom and Dad.  You know how much I appreciated the cars you bought me and the trips you took me on, and just cooking breakfast and dinner for me each and every day. I did have a wonderful life, and you know that goes without saying.

And as I told Mommy on Mother’s day – I have to go now.  Daddy – enjoy Father’s day, read the cards I gave you in the past few years, they mean so much more now – the words I wrote; and keep writing your journal – I read every single word and like so many others I cry at every thought.  It is my first Father’s day in heaven and I will be patting Tiger on the head, and hugging him from here.

My last Father’s Day card to you. I meant every word in it.

I love you more now than ever, and I truly know what love means now.

I will write more soon – I promise.

Andrew

What was he thinking about?

We went to church at Nicole’s school a few weeks ago around Easter and while it was very enjoyable and moving, what the priest talked about struck me.  He talked about Easter and the resurrection, and focused on death and dying and grieving.  The priest began his sermon off by saying to a young man in the first row (who did not actually lose a family member), “Congratulations on your mother’s death.”  He said it in almost a happy jovial manner. It really struck us all.  He elaborated on it and said that “she is in a better place”, she is with the Holy One, she is sitting next to Jesus, in a very peaceful and heavenly place.  “You should be happy where she is.”  He went on to give a very nice sermon about faith in the afterlife, about the meaning of Easter and the resurrection, and about grieving.  What he said was very interesting and we all listened attentively.

I watched the others who were in church with us that day. They nodded their heads in agreement. They smiled and listened attentively.  They really were engaged.  I could tell from the looks on their faces, the gleam in their eyes, the nodding of their heads that they found peace in what was being said, and they truly believed.

Now, the fact that I am Jewish, I did not understand some of what he said, and some of it was outside of my faith and my belief system.  But nevertheless I found comfort in it.  Not as much in the exact words he was saying, but in the belief and faith from the others in the church.  I know I wrote about this before, and what he said really hit home.  He talked about faith and belief and what keeps up spiritually on the right track.

I go to temple every Friday night to say Kaddish for Andrew.  Not because I have to, but because I need to.  I really need to.  I need to be in a religious place, I need to be around other believers, I need to look at the stained glass, look at the arc containing the Torahs, read out of the prayer book, and hear what the rabbi has to talk about.  I need to listen to others doven, and be engulfed in their belief.  And I know Andrew is there, along with my father.  Not because I see them, or hear them, but because I believe they are there with me when I pray.  And I need to feel that to be at peace.

The alter at Andrew’s Mass

When people talk to me about Andrew and they tell me he is with Jesus, or the Heavenly Father, or with someone specific in Heaven, I smile.  I might not agree with them on a religious basis, but when someone believes what they say, and they say it with true feeling and with honorable intent, then what they say is genuine and good; regardless of what the religion is that the words come from.  And that brings me peace and happiness.

You have to have faith in something.  You have to believe in something.  Hey, we may all be wrong. There might be a fat guy up there named Chuck who is running the show and laughing his ass off right now how wrong we all are.  But that does not matter.  When we are here, we have faith that there is something there on the other side, and it is that faith that gets us through trying times, hard times, and motivates us through our lives.  It is this faith that we fall back on when we need it, it is this faith that makes us take the next step when our feet just won’t move.  And it is this faith that we embrace when we celebrate something.

Do you believe in heaven?  Do you believe in something on the other side? Is there actually something there, or loved ones who will meet us when we cross over?  Does Saint Peter guard the pearly gates or are we written into the book of life at Yom Kippour?   I don’t know, I don’t think anyone really knows.  But we all believe there is something – and that is called faith.
I don’t know where Andrew is, or his soul, or what he is now, or who he is.  But I know he is at peace and he is happy.  And that lets me put one foot in front of the other every day.

Who would have thought all three would be gone so soon and so close together. But I have faith they are sitting just like this, together, somewhere, smiling, looking over us all.

What a temporary beautiful life they lead.

While Dorothy and I planted our spring flowers, we were talking about how short lived the beauty they give us is.  We knew that the dozens of plants we planted over the weekend would take root, blossom, grow, spread out a little, give off their beauty for people to enjoy, enhance the beauty and enjoyment of our home, and then wither and die in late fall – all in a matter of months.   But the beauty they provided during the time they are alive is well worth the effort of planting them, weeding, watering, and pruning.  All the time knowing that they are doomed during the cold weather, and the cycle of planting and withering is to be repeated next year, and the year after that and so on.  But this is what you expect.

But this year was different.  Usually Dorothy plants with the kids and her mom.  I generally like to watch from the deck, iced tea in hand.  And it is hard work.  There is no one to refill my iced tea so I have to keep getting up from my lounge chair and going inside to refill it myself while my family relaxes and enjoys bonding with each other and bonding with mother earth.  But this year we did it alone – Dorothy and I.  It was very nice, we talked about what flowers Andrew liked, what flowers Nicole enjoys; and how this summer will be different – so different than any other summer before.

It is just the three of us now.  Andrew should have come home a couple of weeks ago.  He should have graduated with all of his friends.  We should have been proud parents watching him walking down the aisle with that amazing smile that he had on when he graduated high school.  Pictures, dinners, hand shakes, and happiness.  He should be going to parties and headed off for some well earned vacation with his friends. But none of that is happening.  He should have called Dorothy for mother’s day, we should have be happily packing him up to come home to start the next chapter of his life.

But our plant is gone.  The plant that we nourished, cared for, loved, and encouraged has been ripped from our hearts and our lives.  When we plant annuals, we know they will die, we know they have a short life span – that is what we sign up for when we get them.  But when we plant our perennials, we expect them to live, and to blossom and grow year after year – just like our children. And when that does not happen it is devastating.

Last summer, Andrew and i purchased a fire pit and set it up on the deck.  As I mentioned in earlier posts Andrew and I had many fires there over this past summer.  We talked for hours at night about school, about life, about hockey, about almost everything.  It was the most amazing summer I had with my son in a long time.  College really turned him into a mensch, and a person who I could talk to so much easier.  He knew our time together was limited and he would soon be going back to Boulder, so he opened up much more this past summer.  He told me about his school teachers in the Psych department that he respected so much, how they were published and how he read their articles and stories and learned from them – and most of all admired them.  He found a goal and purpose in life and he was beaming with excitement to be able to graduate and become a therapist and help other people who had anxiety issues.  He was such a different person than who left leave our home three years ago and go to college.

The fire pit is still there, and will always be there.  It is known as Andrew’s fire pit. The two chairs Andrew and I sat on last summer are still there, facing each other, almost always empty.  I bought several planters and planted different colored Marigolds next to the pit, it is Andrew’s garden.  The Marigolds where Andrew’s favorite flower.  I never planted flowers before, but I needed to this year, and probably for many years to come.  I needed to do something for my son.

I sit there now, alone, looking at the flowers and the empty chair, recalling what we talked about.  It brings a smile to my face knowing how happy he was, and a tear to my eye knowing none of those dreams will ever be fulfilled. How he found his place in life finally, and how he was excited to have such a strong direction in life.  I sit and look at the flowers, and I know they will all be dead in a few months.  No matter how much I nourish them, no matter how much I care for them and no matter what I do, they will be gone in a few months.  It is such a vicious, heart wrenching cycle.

For those who I have just met…

For those we, the grieving parents, have just met….

Although it has been a while, I am meeting new people now.  I am seeing friends again, and meeting their friends.  I am meeting new clients, and vendors, and seeing new faces at the clients I have had for years.  I am seeing new people for the first time since my life changed.

Although it has been a while, we are meeting new people now.  We are seeing our friends again, and meeting their friends  We are meeting new clients, customers, patients, vendors, suppliers, and seeing new faces at their offices, and meeting new people at ours.  We are seeing new people for the first time since our lives have changed.

It is sometimes hard to meet new people.  They want to get to know you.  What do you do? Where do you live? Is that your wife?  and inevitably, no matter how much I try to avoid it, no matter how much I pray it does not come up…..Do you have children?  The one question that just by thinking about it makes me tear.  The one question that the answer is sure to not only ruin my day, but also those who ask it.  You ask it innocently enough, you have the best of intentions of learning more about me, but you have no idea.  The can of feelings, the jar of emotions, the Pandora’s box of hurt that you just opened.  Opened so innocently.

It is sometimes hard for us to meet new people.  They want to get to know us.  What do you do? Where do you live?  Is that your husband or wife?  and inevitably, no matter how much we try to avoid it, no matter how much we pray it does not come up….Do you have children?  The one question that just by thinking about it makes us tear.  The one question that the answer is sure to not only ruin our day, but also those who ask it.  You ask it innocently enough, you have the best of intentions of learning more about us, but you have no idea.  The can of feelings, the jar of emotions, the Pandora’s box of hurt that you just opened.  Opened so innocently.

But it is okay.  I need to deal with it, and I need to meet new people and function.  Please ask about my daughter, and my son.  Please ask about Nicole, as well as Andrew.  I may tear up, I may cry, I might even make you feel uncomfortable.  But this is who I am now.  I want you to be a part of my life, I want you to be a colleague, I want you to be a friend.  And if I cry it is not because you said something, or asked me something – it is because I miss my son so much.  Don’t be afraid to talk to me and mention him for fear that you will remind me of my loss and that will upset me.  You can never remind me of something that is constantly and continuously on my mind.   I also cry when I talk about my daughter, for I love her so much, she means so much to me; and I am so proud of her that I tear up over her as well.  That is who I am now.

But it is okay.  We need to deal with it, and we need to meet new people and function.  Please ask about our children, the one’s who are still with us, as well as the one’s we have lost.  Please ask about them, we love to and need to talk about them.  We may tear up, we may cry, we might even make you feel uncomfortable.  But this is who we are now.  We want you to be a part of our lives, we want you to be a colleague, we want you to be a friend.  And if we cry it is not because you said something, or asked us something – it is because we miss our lost children so much.  Don’t be afraid to talk to us and mention our sons and daughters for fear that you will remind us of our loss and that will upset us.  You can never remind us of something that is constantly and continuously on our minds.   We not only cry for our lost children, but we also cry when we talk about the children who are still in our arms, for we love them so much, they mean so much to us; and we are so proud of them, that we tear up over them as well.  That is who we are now.  

Please, be my friend.  Yes, I am a grieving parent, and at times I show it. Most times I am able to control my emotions and function well.  It has been only a short time and as time goes on, I am learning to interact with others better, and to meet new people and talk without long breaks to compose myself.  If I walk out of the room, it is not you, but it is I that just needs to get a breath of fresh air, I need to look up at the sky, I need to be alone with Andrew for a moment.  When I return and you feel like hugging and reassuring me, that is fine.  It happened to me just this morning, and it felt truly fulfilling and genuine.

Please, be our friend.  Yes, we are grieving parents, and at times we show it. Most times we am able to control our emotions and function well.  It has been only a short time for some of us, and others have had years to grieve, and as time goes on, we are learning to interact with others better, and to meet new people and talk without taking long breaks to get our composure back.  If we walk out of the room, it is not you, but we just need to get a breath of fresh air, we need to look up at the sky, we need to be alone with our children for a moment.  When we return and you feel like hugging and reassuring us that is fine, and it is really appreciated.  It happened to us all the time, and it feels truly fulfilling and genuine.  

It will probably be one of the harder things you can do in your life, but it will also be one of the most rewarding.

It will probably be one of the harder things you can do in your life, but it will also be one of the most rewarding.

Pam was recently talking about her life, and how it seems she is watching her life on TV – I can relate to this feeling so deeply.  I think we all do to some degree, but with grieving parents it is somewhat different.

We sit here watching TV, we watch our lives, we see ourselves working, cooking, maybe playing golf or hockey.  We look at the screen and see what’s going on.  If we don’t like what we are doing, we change the channel, move on, take a nap.  We watch how we interact with others, and how we grow and how our families change and evolve.  As Pam says, her life is the main story on her own TV right now, as it is for all of us.

But then something happens.  Something bad. The red crawl opens up – some emergency sounding tune plays.  We get that red scroll along the bottom of the screen we are watching.  An accident, tragedy at sea, an earthquake, hundreds dead, maybe thousands.  And it catches our eye and we focus on it.  We read the scroll, we concentrate on it and hope it would go faster so we can see more.  We change channels in hopes of finding out more information, our focus has gone from TV to the emergency, from our lives on TV to the lives of others on the scroll. We are immersed with the news, it is, our only focus…..And in an hour or two, or a day or two, the scroll is gone.  The news is over, we return to the main screen above, we return to our lives on TV.

And we wait for another scroll, we wait for something else to happen, we live our lives between the red scrolls, but knowing one is never too far away – unfortunately.

But then there are those of us who’s red scroll never goes away.  The scroll of our children’s lives, the scroll of our tears and sorrow.  The red scroll that is there that reminds us our children are gone.  That scroll never ever goes away.  Doug’s scroll is five years long  – and has not gone away – it is immensely long and Pam never stops thinking about him.  Andrew’s scroll is a mere eight months long, but always there.

Whenever we watch the TV of our lives, the red scroll is there.  Sometimes it is where it should be, just a small portion of the TV screen.  We are able to still have our lives above, and function and go out and enjoy our lives.  We can manage when the scroll is where it belongs, we never forget, but we can live.  Other times the scroll takes over the screen.  It becomes the main story, it becomes CNN or MSNBC or FOX – it is all consuming, it is the entire TV.  Anything and everything else in our lives is minimized while the red scroll becomes and encompasses the entire screen, while the memories or our children so overwhelm us that we have to deal with it over everything else.  We cry, we mourn, we even visit their resting places, but we recover.  Each and every time we do recover.

It does eventually return to the small red scroll at the bottom, but it never, no it never disappears. It is there for us to see and for us to remember what we have lost our entire lives.  Sometimes the scroll lets us remember the good times, sometimes it tells us our children are okay now, that their pain is no longer.  Sometimes it reminds us of family vacation, the good our children did in their lives, or let’s us watch them play sports again.  And to tell you the truth, I don’t want it to disappear. I never want to be without that scroll, without the constant memory of Andrew, and I am sure Pam is happy the scroll is there as well.

When we awake in the morning, the scroll is there.  When we retire for the night – we turn off the TV, we turn out the lights, we close our eyes, and the last thing we see before we sleep is the scroll of our children’s lives.

I never stop thinking about him
It is like the news crawl that runs at the bottom of the screen
While my life, the main story,
Plays on the TV above it.
Pam.

I was in a different temple last night to say kaddish for Andrew,  and the Rabbi there during the course of his speech talked about what we do in life, and that our life has to have meaning. He said that Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness is a great thought, and a great basis for the Declaration of Independence,  But then he went on to say that although we all want Life, Liberty and Happiness, wouldn’t it be better if we had Life, Liberty and Meaning.  He didn’t go into that much, he only touched on it and then went onto other ideas, but that thought stuck in my head all night.

Life and Liberty – we all pretty  much get what that refers to, and although our thoughts on liberty might all be different, we know what liberty generally means. Whether you are a conservative, liberal, right, left, whatever, we all know what we want in life and we have our definition on liberty.  I don’t want this to be a political platform, so enough said about that.

But meaning.  That word hit me and I thought not only how it related to Andrew, but how it relates to all of us. How can someone who was taken from us so young, after only twenty one years, have meaning in their life?  How can someone who only lasted on this earth a few years, or a few days have meaning in their life.  What is meaning?  Is it what Andrew found in his life that effected him and made him who he was?  Was it that he became enlighten to some meaning and had some course in his life that was going to have meaning to himself?  I don’t think so.

For anyone, even someone who makes it to seventy, eighty, or ninety, years of age, to have a meaningful life means that they had to effect/affect someone else’s life, or many people’s lives.  They had to give meaning to someone else, or something else, they had to give meaning – not receive meaning.

The Rabbi at my sister’s temple, the priest at your church, the kindergarten teacher who taught our children, even Andrew’s hockey coach who taught them that the team is a family and will be forever – these are all people who all had a meaningful life, they gave some meaning to the people they touched in their lives, they had some positive influence over the people they touched.  The volunteer at the animal shelter, the fireman who protects our lives, the people at the food pantry – these people all give of themselves – and in turn they all have a meaning in their lives.

But do we all have this meaning?  Do some of us just go through life making it from one decade to the next?  Do we make money and donate a portion of it and count that as our meaning in life.  When someone donates millions of dollars to build a hospital wing – yea, their life had meaning.  If someone donates $180 to build a well for water in Cambodia (https://www.facebook.com/10Wells), they have meaning in their lives because they did something good that will last for years to come.

How about the couple that has a child and gives that child up to a family that can not bear children?  I think that is one of the best meanings in life that someone could have.  Bringing joy to a family by means of a young baby is one of the greatest gifts of all.

Did Andrew have a meaning in life?  I think he had so much meaning that one essay can’t capture it all.  You’ll see in my ext journal….

He brought joy and happiness to our family.  He made others smile and enriched the lives of so many other people.  His friends tell us how Andrew would sit and listen to them for hours talk about their lives and their problems, and then when they were done he would respond back to them and make them feel so much better.  I am not sure what he said, or how he processed what his friends told him, but he seemed to have a gift of giving some meaningful feedback that made others realize their problems were not so big.  This is what he wanted to do in life.  This was probably his calling, and definitely his meaning in life.

He also brought love and peace to some people.  He rescued some from what would have been not such a nice life.  He showed some people that a caring therapist could really help people, and those people are now pursuing a degree in psychology or psycho-therapy so that they have meaning in their lives.

G-d puts us all here for a purpose.  We have to have some meaning in our lives.  There are plenty of people’s lives that do not have meaning, or they choose not to have a meaningful life.   But most of us do. And we need to, it fulfills us.  It makes us whole, it gives us satisfaction.  We volunteer, we teach, we coach, we donate, we guide, we mentor.  We touch other lives.  This is meaning.

When we pass, and others look back at the path we chose to take, will they look at that path and say this person was a good person,  he was a mensch,  – he had a meaningful life.  When I look at my son’s path, I am happy.  It was much too short, but it was a meaningful path.

I don’t know who said this, I heard it in a video:
“If your not making someone else’s life better, then your wasting your time.”

What will they say when they look at your path?  Or mine?

More about the meaning of Andrew’s life in the next entry…

Everyone is on a path in life, and all of the decisions we make in life change that path, or we can say that the path is created by our decisions.  I tend to believe that most people start out on a nice peaceful path, leading to a happy, healthy life.  But then reality settles in.

We are a smart species, so we make decisions looking long-term – we decide to go to the doctor to stay healthy, we decide to go to school or college, get educated, and hope that adds wealth and security somewhere along our path.  We hope for love and happiness in the pursuit of marriage and eventually children.  But we all make decisions about where we are on the path and where we want our separate paths to lead in life.

And every day, every hour we walk that path.  We put one foot in front of the other and we walk our path, hoping for the best.

This is the bad part.  The unexpected part.  The unfortunate part.  We get ill.  Our company goes bankrupt.  We get into a serious accident.  Our child gets gravely ill.  There is a fire. There is a flood.  There is a murderer.  And this all effects our perfectly planned out path. They put road blocks up, diversions, cones, and yield signs on our paths.  But we still, day after day, follow that path in hopes for the best.  In hopes that happiness and joyfulness will be around the next curve in the path. And for most of us, there is.

Then there are those who’s feet have stopped.  Those who no longer can see the path.  The grieving parents of lost children.  Our children’s paths were much too short, just a few hours long.  Some paths, like Derek’s,  lasted only seven hours. But he was loved and held and read to for his entire life.  The mark he left on this world in his short time will never leave or be forgotten.  Or Matthew’s path that ended tragically at 21 while teaching and helping others enjoy the outdoors, which he loved so much.  Or Jeff’s path, an accomplished, gifted, and successful glass blower, that ended on Storrow Drive in a tragic motorcycle accident.  Or Andrew’s path, my Andrew, who’s path ended while quietly asleep in his bed.  And the list goes on an on, unfortunately.  These are the parents who’s feet have stopped moving forward.  These are the people who have come to a pause in their lives, and their paths.  The pain of knowing their children’s paths have ended is so overwhelming that we, yes I put myself in that category, we, can not take another step.

Someone has put a wall in front of us.  This is a common story told among grieving parents to those who recently lost a child.  There is a wall.  A wall of pain, a wall of suffering.  A wall so large and onerous that you can not simply go around it – it is too wide.  You can not go over it – it is too tall.  It can not be dug under or avoided.  You must go through it.  You might put it off with anger, or depression.  But the wall will be waiting for you and you must go through it.  For some the wall is narrow, and they can go on and live and love and learn to enjoy life once again.  For others the wall never seems to end, and although they are living, they are not really living life.  For most of us, we do get through the wall, some how, but it takes years.  But we do learn to live again, love again, and enjoy our lives and embrace what we had on our path before the wall.  But it is a lifelong journey along our new path.

But – our feet won’t move us sometimes.  We can’t take the steps to or through the wall.  But we all seem to get to the wall, and work our way through it.  And it takes years and years to get through the wall and see that there is a glimmer of light on the other side.  How do we do this?

As Pam and Georgine put it, there is something, or someone, gently pulling us, gently guiding us along the new path we are on now.  Yes, we are moving along the path again, but in a different manner now.  Our paths have changed so much, we are such different people now that our feet do not know where to step.  We know the path is there, but we can’t see it through our tears.  So we are delicately pulled down the path by this force. And we willingly let it pull us. We know we must go on, we know we still have a path in life that we must follow, so we let this unknown, caring, loving force gently tug us and pull us along the path.

We rely on this gentle tugging to get us through the day.  It is a warming, soothing feeling that we are being helped along. Sometimes our friends hold our hands and help us along the path with their love and friendship.  Sometimes our children help us because we know they need us to move.  We just follow along the path, day by day, with the smallest of baby steps.  The smallest movement forward.  Every step is a milestone, every movement is hard, but we keep going.

We know one day our paths will end as well.  But at that cusp on the end of our paths, when we look back over our shoulders do we see black clouds, empty frames and broken cobblestones?  Or do we see the other side of the wall that we have gotten through, do we see our friends and family smiling, do we know that we made a difference and that we honored our children’s memories and lived out our days they way they would want us to live our lives.

We often tell stories of Andrew – not in the past, but in the present.  We often say “if Andrew where here…”  or  “you know Andrew would do this or that if he were here.”  It is our way of holding onto the memories of him as well as keeping him in the forefront of our minds, as he always is.  

Just last week, Dorothy and I went to Smashburger in White Plains for the first time. Yea, we had a moment of weakness and desired a good juicy burger.  It brought back the memory that one of the last lunches I had with Andrew and Jovi was at the Five Guys in Boulder, it was the first time any of us had been to a Five Guys, although we passed it hundreds of times.   We were amazed at the size of the burgers and took pictures of them, and of ourselves, and sent them to Dorothy. We had a good time that meal, talked about Boulder and what a good time we had had for the past week or so together.

Back at Smashburger, they gave us our food and the receipt, and on the bottom of the receipt the cashier pointed out that if we go on-line with our smartphone and fill out a short survey, and we can get a free side.  So we casually ate, talked about Nicole and Andrew, and filled out the survey, got the code and I went up for our free side.  To my surprise, I got the receipt for the side, amount due was $0, but on the bottom of the new receipt was a chance to fill out another survey and get another free side!

Ok, now for those of you who knew Andrew, tell me that this would not start a long hilarious challenge for him to accumulate an entire large bag full of free sides?  Can’t you just see him saying “this is so stupid” – as he fills out another survey and gets another free side order and another receipt with the survey on it? I could picture Matt or Wally or Todd sitting at the table as Andrew piles up the free sides.  Dorothy and I sat there, smiled and laughed as we though about what our dear little boy would do.  

I hope this brings a smile to someone’s face just picturing him going back to get his numerous free sides, as he laughs and shakes his hands in disbelief.  That was Andrew.  It brought one to our faces for a time.

I got this message from Andrew back in August, 2011 – it shows his compassion and how he really loved animals:

“dad – hi can you do me a favor, well its for my friend’s dog june who’s 1 and a half and has a birth defect and needs another surgery that his family doesn’t think they can afford its real expensive,  http://www.giveforward.com/savejune-bug, that’s the site for his dog, a lot of our friends are donating a little to him and i wanted to give him something for her, i really like her and it’s the right thing to do. he’s also giving me a set of trucks for free for the other long board that i have so i can use it when I’m home, he didn’t want any money for them just for me to donate to june.

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Save-June-Bug/137368123019122 that’s the page on facebook that you should like and if you can post something on facebook with or about it so people see, you have friends that would care about it, or possibly donate, there were a lot of anonymous donations on that site.
thanks
love you”

We of course donated to help June.  Unfortunately, on August 27, 2011, Junebug passed away.  Andrew called me from school and told me – he was very upset and I could hear it in his voice.  We talked a while about our pets and although he was happy to know they were well, the loss of a friends pet really effected him. He loved jubebug and was upset any time an animal died.  This is why one of the charities we chose for him was one to save and protect animals.

He was a funny kid as well When I posted a picture of me on a motorcycle on facebook, and said I wasn’t really going to buy one, he sent me this text:   “oh i know, not only is it about 25k but i know mommy would kill you before the bike does – lol, but its really nice”

We went to see Nicole this weekend and she told us, in a very happy and laughing manner, about her last shopping expedition with Andrew.  They went to buy sneakers together, not necessarily the same one’s, but they both needed new sneaker.  For years, Andrew had worn white sneakers, just white, several different brands, but white.  Recently he has changed that to include some colorful one’s, pairs to go skateboarding, and the fact he lived in Boulder, where everyone has some color of some sort.

After one or two stores, and looking at dozens and dozens of pairs, none of them fit what he was looking for.  The ended up in Vans.  Nicole described the wall of sneaker choices as massive, the length of the store.  Andrew walked up and down the wall and looked and looked, picked up a few pairs, inspected them, and returned them to the shelf – Nicole all this time losing her patience.  He would pick up a pair, look at it from every angel and imagine how he would look in them – just like he did with flannel shirts and blue jeans.  This went on for some time, it seems like hours the way Nicole describes it.

He finally picked out a pair – and with all the choices, all the colors, patterns, laces – he picks out a solid gray pair of sneakers.  He tries them on and looks at himself from every angle in the mirror to make sure they make the right statement about him.  We are never sure what that statement is, but I guess they made it because he bought that gray pair.  And to our surprise, Nicole purchased the same pair.

I am not sure if it came with sneakers or not, but they also got matching Vans t-shirts.  So the sneakers and t-shirts matched – which I think this was the very first time that they actually bought something that matched.  But I guess something caught Andrew’s eyes, and never to pass up the ability to buy something computer related, he also bought these cool 4″ square cardboard box PC speakers – I have been using them now for a few months.

I am happy that they had the experience together, and Nicole shared it with us while we all laughed and imagined Andrew walking up and down a row of hundreds of sneakers until he found the one that he identified with.  Solid gray, simple sneakers.

These are just a few memories of Andrew.  And unfortunately, there are no new memories of him.  What we have in our minds now, what we have pictures of, what we have thought about, that’s it.  There is nothing new, there will never be any new memories that we experienced with him, the number is set in stone and will forever be.

What we do ask, and we have really never asked his friends for much, is this.  If you have a memory or a story or a anecdote or anything about Andrew, can you please post it in the comments below?  We would love to add to our memories of him, and to be able to share stories about Andrew that we do not know yet.  I know it might be hard, for I am sure it will be hard for us to read, but this will serve as a tribute to him for others to read and share.  If it is personal, you can email it to me, or post it anonymously, but please do write something.

Thank you, Dorothy, Nicole and I really appreciate it.

I don’t know how to end this entry of memories.
I just miss my booboo so much, he touched so many lives in positive ways and he will be so missed by so many people.
I love you Andrew.
Daddy