Remembering Josh

Poem - "No Answer"

2012-01-29T17:17:00.002-05:00

It is coming up on three years since I have been thrust on this grief journey by the tragic and irrevocable action of our youngest son, Josh. This blog was created with a duel purpose: to remember him and to chronicle the painful trek. As I try to find ways to express myself, a new path has emerged, one evidenced by recent posts - POETRY.

I am losing myself in this unchartered world, profoundly impacted by the writing of newly found authors such as Lord Alfred Tennyson, Robert Pinsky, Anne Sexton, W.H. Auden, and John Berryman, while excited to discover more.

My attraction to this genre is surprising. I've never been one for poetry, finding it too obscure, archaic and ambiguous for my simple taste and analytical mind. I've not had the patience or motivation to read closely, dig deep for meaning, or make the extra effort to find and interpret ideas or supply connections. I've gravitated towards the vast material written in prose form: fiction, memoir, biography, non-fiction. And while I find prose easier to read and comprehend, it is far harder for me to write. Poems, at least right now, are an easier medium for me to portray a certain thought, feeling or emotion as evidenced by the three penned so far: A Mother's Love, Silence Is the Answer and Over and Over Again.

For example, I have tried to write about the horrible day that I found Josh, not necessarily as a blog post but just within my own journal. Where do I start? What do I say? How can I ever hope to convey what happened in that life-changing second? Simply put, I cannot. But when I was writing in my journal this morning, I started stringing words together that began describing that terrible morning. The resulting poem says it all:

No Answer

by Sue Anderson

1/29/2012

No answer,

Voice silent.

No response,

Mind gone.

No sight,

Eyes unblinking.

No movement,

Body stiff.

No breath,

Chest still.

No beat,

Extremities blue.

No life,

Hope abandoned.

Why? I screamed,

No answer.

Can't Sleep - Words Fall Short

2012-01-26T02:04:00.000-05:00

It is now 1:12am and I can't sleep. I feel like writing a post but don't know what to say. So am staring at a blank page with the cursor blinking, waiting for the next thought, word, sentence. My mind is blank but that is an illusion. I know I can't sleep because my mind won't turn off but try as hard as I might, my thoughts are slippery, elusive and refuse to be tamed.

So now, I turn to my feelings. What do I feel? Cursor is blinking while I think about this. Answer: nothing.

So now I turn to books. What have I read recently that can describe what I feel? Or where I am at? Ahhh, now I am getting somewhere. Immediately, I think of two poems that basically say that when one is grieving the death of a loved one, words fall short.

Epilogue

by John Berryman

He died in December. He must descend
Somewhere, vague and cold, the spirit and seal,
The gift descend, and all that insight fail
Somewhere. Imagination one's one friend
Cannot see there. Both of us at the end.
Nouns, verbs do not exist for what I feel.

So maybe it is not that I don't feel anything....maybe it is that I have run out of ways to express what I feel.

Another poem that speaks to and for me:

In Memoriam A.H.H. - Canto V

by Lord Alfred Tennyson

I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel;
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.

In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more.

RIP beloved Josh

Happy 20th Birthday Josh

2012-01-16T20:13:00.004-05:00

The three month stretch from November - January is tough for right on the heels of Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years is Josh's birthday, January 16th. He would've been 20 years old today. Luckily, I had the day off so while the country celebrated Martin Luther King's birthday, we met my parent's at Josh's park, with balloons and white roses. While serenaded by a chorus of chimes, we placed the petals on the grass.

The park is beautiful - still full of Christmas decorations

Josh's tree - packed with chimes and keepsakes

Balloons sent up to the heavens by Rox and her family

RIP Josh. We love and miss you, now more than ever.

Poem: "Over and Over Again"

2012-01-09T20:46:00.004-05:00

This poem is dedicated to all those who grieve the loss of a loved one.

Over and Over Again
by Sue Anderson
(12/29/2011)

Tears trickle
Tears drip
Tears gush

Eyes water
Eyes well
Eyes overflow

Head fills
Head hurts
Head explodes

Grief ambushes
Grief tackles
Grief overwhelms

Life shocked
Life upended
Life carries on

Over and over again

"In Memoriam" Canto IV - "deep vase of chilling tears" by Tennyson

2012-01-04T08:19:00.002-05:00

Break, thou deep vase of chilling tears,

that grief hath shaken into frost!

This says to me that tears of grief are deep - even, bottomless. No matter how many are shed, there are as many or more to replace them - fed by an eternal fountain or wellspring of grief. But sometimes the tears are frozen within, crystallized, like frost on blades of grass. What will break them so they can freely flow?

Maybe a thought, a picture, a memory, a gift, a touch, a hug, a song, a quote, a book, a movie, a scene, a poem, a word, a dream, a look, a remark, a question, an answer, a day, an anniversary, a holiday, a place, a room, an item, a keepsake, a grave, an eulogy, a hope, a fear, a wish.

And despite the pain of tears - and maybe it is the avoidance of the pain that the tears are frozen - they are good for us. If we find ourselves in this frosty state, we may need to do something lest we remain chilled, cold and frozen within. For me, it is writing in my sacred journal. It is reading books that make me think about death and grief. It is visiting Josh every week and writing a letter to him. It is seeing the pictures that cover my fridge door and fill end tables and the piano top. It is wearing one of his shirts. It is sitting in his room reading and writing. It is writing on this blog and on my grief journey blog. These activities keep the tear ducts warm, free and open, ready when the need arises.

"In Memoriam A.H.H" by Lord Alfred Tennyson

2012-01-03T20:21:00.006-05:00

Along with the poetry anthology, The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief and Healing, I plan to read Lord Alfred Tennyson's epic work, In Memoriam A.H.H. (1849) which was written over a seventeen-year period after the sudden death of his best friend and fellow poet, Arthur Henry Hallam at the age of twenty-two. He died of a stroke. Hallam was engaged to Tennyson's younger sister, Emily. Both Alfred and Emily named their elder sons after him.

In Memoriam A.H.H is considered to be not only one of Tennyson's greatest works but one of the great poems of the entire 19th century. Queen Victoria turn to the lyrical work after the death of Prince Albert in 1861, "Next to the Bible, In Memoriam is my comfort."

Similar to the form of other long poems or epics such as Lord Byron's Don Juan or Dante's Divine Comedy, In Memoriam is divided into 133 cantos. I never realized this beautiful quote is from canto XXVII :

'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

I have found a web site which gives an easy-to-understand summary of each canto. This will be very helpful to me as I make my way slowly through the poem. I plan to write posts on what I learn.

Canto IV
Canto V

Poem: "Silence Is the Answer"

2012-01-01T10:14:00.009-05:00

Treasures are found when you least expect it. Since Josh's passing, I have been on the lookout for an anthology of poems focused on loss, grief and recovery. On a recent trip to Barnes & Noble, I found The Art of Loss: Poems of Grief & Healing (2010) edited by Kevin Young, a contemporary poet who realized the need for such a book when his father was killed in an accident.

In the introduction he writes about his own experience with grief and of the purpose of the book:

To lose someone close to you is to enter an experience no amount of forethought or hindsight can free you from. You must live through grief. You cannot outsmart it, nor think through the fact of someone's being gone, and forever. You must survive the sorrow.

To lose someone today is to go into strange realms of "bereavement specialists" and sympathy cards and funeral arrangements - things you suddenly realize have been going on for a good while, without you, in something of a parallel world. The world of grief can feel like that, a limbo realm that at the least gives you a strong perspective on the everyday world: Why are all these people walking around, oblivious to loss? Why am I still here while my loved one is not? Surviving any death can carry its own guilt. It also brings on a slew of cliches, often offered in lieu of sympathy, that can sometimes cause more anxiety than comfort. It is hard to know what to say. The poems here seek to avoid cliche, in order to say what needs to be said.

I have gathered the poems in this anthology to reveal the many ways poets seek to find words and form to contain loss and to fulfill the reader's need for comfort and companionship in the words of another. Often, in death, everything else fails.

He has divided the book into six sections which mourners may find themselves in at some point during their grief journey: Reckoning, Regret, Remembrance, Ritual, Recovery and Redemption. I plan to slowly read through the poems and share my thoughts on subsequent posts. This is a good project to start in the New Year - our third, sans Josh.

I will end this post with a quick poem that I penned the night I started reading the book.

Silence is the Answer
by Sue Anderson
(12/29/2011)

I can see him

in my mind's eye

healthy, happy boy!

What happened?

Where did he go?

What have I done?

What didn't I do?

And now I am left

with an empty room and heart,

trying to understand,

trying to live.

Why him?

Why us?

Why me?

I ask.

Silence is the answer.

33 Months Later - December 18, 2011

2011-12-18T21:49:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I think of the anniversary month in terms of "x" years and "y" months - like 2 years and 8 months. To title this post however, I thought of total months and in doing so, it is 33 - a very special number. The number that I will forever associate with our son. The number on the football jersey that is part of his final wardrobe.

33 months - already? Time is no longer marching but whizzing by - at dizzying speed. In a few short weeks, it will be January 16th, which would be his 20th birthday. A few weeks after that, his third-year death anniversary. So strange to think that it will soon be three years since he left us. In most cases that would seem like a long time but not with death. There is a different time frame associated with grieving which I wrote about last summer. The words still ring true.

It has now been 16 months since Josh's fatal decision. One might think that it has gotten easier with the passing of time. But grief does not travel in a linear fashion. In my experience, the connection between grief and time is better described like an archer's target, with concentric circles around a bulls-eye, representing Josh's death. Each circle around the center corresponds to a period of time, say a year. As time moves on, the distance to the center increases but not by much. Meaning that any memory, word, song, thought, movie, photo or innocent question can bring back all of the emotions of that time. It is never far away. I know that five, ten or twenty years will bring some distance, but I don't think it will be that much.

How can I, thirty-three months later, still be writing on this blog? Why does each anniversary month still feel significant? Why does this grief journey, almost three years old, feel like it just started?

In her poignant memoir, My Brother, writer Jamaica Kincaid ponders the death of her younger brother, Devon. He died of AIDS at the age of thirty-three.

It's not as if the whole thing has not happened before, it's not as if people have not been dying all along and each person left behind is the first person ever left behind in the world. What to make of it? Why can't everybody just get used to it? People are born and they just can't go on and on, and if they can't go on and on, then they must go, but it is so hard, so hard for the people left behind; it's so hard to see them go, as if it had never happened before, and so hard it could not happen to anyone else, no one but you can survive this kind of loss, seeing someone go, seeing them leave you behind; you don't want to go with them, you only don't want them to go.

And the same thought repeated at the end of the book...

...if it is so certain, death, why is it such a surprise, why is everybody who is left behind, who is not dead, in a state of such shock, as if this thing, death, this losing forever of someone who means something to you, has never happened before. Why is it so new, why is this worn-out thing, death, someone dying, so new, so new?

I've never thought of it in this way. Kincaid is right - death is an everyday occurrence, there is nothing new about it. In fact it's presence is part of our subconscious; we know and accept that mortality is a part of life. But I know now that this understanding is only intellectual and superficial - it does not hit the heart. In fact, I am jealous of the un-grieved, those whose knowledge of death is simple theory and whose heart is unschooled.

For when death comes, and for me it was on a sunny Wednesday morning, March 18, 2009 when I found our son, that innocent world is shattered and life can never be the same. A hard, cold, shocking reality covers and overwhelms every physical and emotional circuit. The feelings are strange, suffocating and debilitating. A trauma to the heart and psyche has occurred and full recovery feels uncertain.

One would think that the acceptance of death as a part of life would adequately prepare us but it doesn't. Nothing can. I guess what I am trying to say is that Death is a common occurrence but when it happens to you, there is nothing common about it.

I will end this post by sharing about what happened the other night. There is an end table in the living room on which a large picture of Josh sits sturdily on a photo holder, along with other pictures. While the girls and I were decorating the Christmas tree, the large photo came out of it's holder and tipped over - enough to make a noise and get our attention but not enough to wipe out the other pictures. We couldn't understand why this happened for no one bumped the table. Was Josh saying, "I'm here"?

An all white tree - in memory of our beloved Josh

Quote from Romeo and Juliet

2011-12-12T16:26:00.004-05:00

I have two places to decorate for Christmas now: our home, which I haven't done, and Josh's park. While traveling there this weekend, with wreath and ornaments in hand, I was listening to an audio course on Shakespeare's Tragedies. The professor was talking about Romeo and Juliet, the famous play about two star-crossed lovers, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.

He quoted a passage in which Juliet tells Romeo of the depths of her love:

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep, the more I give to thee
The more I have, for both are infinite.

This was written to describe a woman's love for a man but as I was listening, I couldn't help but think that this passage better describes another type of love - the purest, deepest, and most sacrificial ever felt by any human - the love of a mother for her child. There is no rival. For how many women begin with the same "Juliet-type" feelings for their own lover that over time, fades and in some cases, disappears altogether?

But a mother could never "file for divorce" from her child. The notion is preposterous. Whatever may happen, that bond and love, even if it flows one way at times (especially during the teenage years), is always there. It can never break. It will survive and perhaps grow stronger, even in death.

Josh's tree is the only one that still has leaves.

Peace on Earth ornaments

RIP my beloved son.

A Sinkhole

2011-12-03T21:25:00.002-05:00

On the airplane today, while traveling back from Charlotte on a work-related trip, I was innocently reading an article in the December issue of Redbook magazine. Next think I knew, my eyes were filled with tears which I was trying to discreetly wipe away. Good thing the seat next to me was empty.

What could possibly have hit me so hard? Reminded me of my loss and rekindled the grief that lies dormant below the surface, but is so easily awakened?

I have a name for when this happens. In a previous post I call it a "grief mine." In The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion calls it the "vortex effect". In Joyce Carol Oates' book, A Widow's Story, she calls it a "sinkhole." In fact, I will quote the passage:

The widow must learn: beware sinkholes! The terror of the sinkhole isn't that it exists. You understand, sinkholes must exit. The terror of the sinkhole is that you fail to see it, each time you fail to see it, you don't realize you have blundered into the sinkhole until it's too late and you are being pulled down, down...

The guilty article? A Daughter Lost And Found. The blurb that made me want to read it? When Julie Mannix refused to get an abortion, her parents had her locked up in a mental hospital. This is the story of the child she fought to save - and how they made their way back to each other."

Beautiful nineteen-year old Julie, a Philadephia debutante, gave birth to a healthy daughter, whom she named Aimee Veronica on April 19, 1964. Unmarried, unsupported and unable to care for a child, she felt there was no choice but to sign adoptions papers after which "my heart ripped apart. I put down the pen, turned away and, on shaky legs, I left my baby behind."

After the birth, she was reunited with the baby's father and after marrying him, was disinherited by her family. These are the words that got to me:

I thought of Aimee constantly in the decades that followed. My longing for her triggered a series of deep depressions, which would come on quickly and linger for weeks; the passing years never softened them....Every year on April 19th, Frank and I celebrated Aimee's birthday, the date of which we had engraved on the inside of our wedding rings.

This is a mother who longed for her lost child but because the adoption records were sealed, had no hope of finding her. "There was nothing to do but pray that she was with a good family and growing up loved." She did not stop thinking of Aimee - even after having two other children and even after the passing of decades. And what really got to me was that at the time of her wedding, this young, childless mother wanted to have Aimee's birthdate etched in their wedding rings, despite having seen her precious newborn only once, and that from five feet away. She never got to hold her, nurse her, sing lullabies and gently rock her to sleep.

I understand this mother. I understand her grief, pain and guilt over losing a child. I believe it when she says that time, contrary to popular belief, does not heal, remove or soften these feelings. And that she thought of this child not just for days, weeks, months or years, but for decades.

This is an example of a mother's love and the depths of the attachment to her children. Of the bond that exists in her heart long after the physical cord has been cut. It is a relationship like no other and only a fellow mother can understand it.

It reminds me of the sacred, unbreakable bonds to my own children. The ones for my three surviving children that give me great joy. And the one to my lost child, my beloved Josh, whom I will never see again, that produces such sorrow and pain, it is literally indescribable.

In reading this article today, I unwittingly fell into a sinkhole, stepped on a grief mine and was swept up in a vortex.

Happy Thanksgiving Josh

2011-11-24T09:48:00.000-05:00

On this beautiful cold but sunny day, perfect for Thanksgiving, while the turkey is roasting, I write a letter to Josh.

Dear Josh,
Happy Thanksgiving! I can't help but imagine what you would be doing if here. Let me try.... you came home from college on Saturday, happy to be home but wiped out, and with mountains of laundry. After giving me the required hug and stooping to play with Buddy and Benji, who would be going crazy, vying for your attention, you would head straight for the kitchen to make sure the pantry and fridge was stocked, giving me a little smile after seeing that it was.

You would then stretch out on the couch with your favorite blanket, inviting the dogs to chill with you and promptly fall asleep. I would work on your laundry and by the time you woke up, clean clothes would be in your room. Sleepy-eyed, you would ask me the proverbial and all important question, "what's for dinner?" Another smile would appear when I said, "Korean food", one of your favorites.

We probably wouldn't see too much of you, between sleeping and hanging out with your friends which would be okay, because you were home. Then today - one of your favorite holidays because it combines two things you LOVE - the Thanksgiving meal and football (there are some good games on today), you would exude peaceful contentment. At dinner, you would be your usual quiet self but would interject a well-timed remark that would make us all laugh. After dinner you would be passed out on the couch again with "turkey coma". Life would be good. Let me say that again, LIFE would be good.

But instead of what I imagine in my head and heart, the reality is that you are not here. At least not physically (I don't want to think of where you are physically). I hope you are here in spirit. Can you give us a sign today? Or does it work best when least expected? And even though it has been over 2 years and 8 months, I will end with the question that I still ask every day, "Why, Josh why?"

Love,
Mom

"Send Silence Packing" Exhibit at Active Minds 8th Nat'l Conference

2011-11-21T09:43:00.001-05:00

This past weekend, Lauren and I went attended a conference called "Empowering Advocates for Change" at the University of Maryland, hosted by Active Minds. Started in 2001 by a UPenn student, a year after losing her older brother, also a college student, to suicide, the growth has been explosive (see story). There are now 370 Active Minds chapters on college campuses all across North America, recognized nationally as the "voice of student mental health advocacy". Over 500 chapter members, advisors and supporters attended the event. It was inspiring to be amongst so many young people who work tirelessly to ensure that no student is suffering in silence, that they know of available resources and understand, most importantly, that they are not alone.

We went to this conference because we would like to use the money collected in Josh's fund to bring Active Minds speakers to local high schools, promoting the concept of Youth Mental Wellness. We would also like to encourage our local school system to imitate Howard County Public Schools in Maryland, which has successfully implemented 5 Active Mind chapters in high schools, as part of a pilot program.

One of the many highly successful programs is Send Silence Packing. Below are pictures from this powerful, life-changing display, right in the center of the University of Maryland's campus. We would like to bring this display to Fairfax County.

1,100 backpacks, representing the lives lost to suicide on college campuses every year

Two girls reading Josh's story. One was crying.

Another young kid - I was moved because this bag was his actual backpack

Educational signs like this are all over....

These kids believe they are the voice of change. If you are a college student and would like to be part of this voice, PLEASE join your college chapter, or start one (click here to find out more).

2 Yrs and 8 Months Later - Nov. 18, 2011

2011-11-18T03:42:00.000-05:00

Another month has gone by and instead of time lessening the impact of Josh's death, it has become deeper, broader and just "more". What may be contributing to this are the following upcoming events: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, what would be Josh's 20th birthday and the 3rd year death anniversary. Each of these would be tough - all together, very tough.

As I have shared in a previous post, it is my custom to visit Josh each week and when I am done cleaning off his stone, I sit and write a letter to him. Here is what I wrote this past week.

Dear Josh,
It is Tuesday afternoon and the time that the park is cleared of all flowers. This mandatory cleaning ends on November 21st, right before Thanksgiving. I was late putting fall colored flowers in your vase so you may have them for a week or so, before your Christmas wreath gets placed.

This is my/our third year without you for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Where has the time gone? The impact of your death is ginormous, but better seen from a distance. Just like how viewing the damage from a hurricane is more easily seen the further away you travel. Up close, you couldn't see that it wiped out most of a town, but a before and after shot from the sky would show the devastation.

This is how I feel about your death. As time goes on, the impact is even greater and deeper and wider and broader than at the beginning. How enormous the impact of your life and your death. So sad.

I hope you are at peace.
RIP beloved son.
Love,
Mom

Media Coverage for FCPS School Board Election - updated 11/11/11

2011-11-04T07:51:00.016-04:00

In the past, that is to say "pre-Josh", we did not pay much attention to School Board elections except to notice when they were imminent, evidenced by the multiple signs placed in the busy Route 7 median that runs from Tysons Corners to our home.

But now all that has changed.

The 2008 - 2009 School Board had responsibility over the disciplinary policies that treated our son far harsher than if he were caught by the police. How can that be? And in the end, my belief is that the expected decision of his expulsion from high school caused Josh to feel a loss so profound and overwhelming that he could not cope. His fragile psyche sought a way out - a way that was irreversible and irrevocable. Death.

After his tragic suicide on March 18, 2009, the School Board and Superintendent had the opportunity to assess the disciplinary policies, determine their effectiveness (or ineffectiveness) and initiate reform. Yet nothing was done.

Then over a year later, another boy was caught and punished via the same draconian disciplinary policies. And this poor boy also took his life. Two death within two years. And only because of the courageous sharing of the Stuben family, the thorough reporting by Washington Post journalist, Donna St. George, the additional media scrutiny (see blog post), pressing advocacy of FairfaxZeroToleranceReform and increasing outcry from the community, was the School Board forced to address reform in a June 9th vote. But they did not go far enough.

So it is time for change. Six of the twelve SB members are not seeking re-election. Some who are should be replaced. Josh was our youngest so we no longer have any children in this school system. But for the thousands that entrust their children to FCPS, just as we did, I hope and pray that the November 8th elections will result in wholesale change. And that the new group will roll up their sleeves and initiate common sense reform, ensuring that each child/teen is treated fairly, respectfully and above all, with the understanding that he/she is still a kid.

My intent is to keep this post updated with media links related to the upcoming elections.

July 18 - August 8, 2011
Vienna Patch: Interviews with At-large School Board Candidates on the issue of school discipline policies. "Discipline reform has become a key issue in this school board race. See how the candidates stack up."

August 10, 2011

McLean Connection: At-large School Board Race: One to Watch by Victoria Ross. "Debates over discipline, boundaries, budgets, standardized tests and sleep have generated Fairfax County’s most closely watched and contested School Board race in the board’s 19-year history."

August 14, 2011

Washington Post: Fairfax County School Board Races Could Overshadow Other Campaigns This Year by Frederick Kunkle. "Stuban is one of several political newcomers whose entry into the normally sleepy School Board elections has transformed them into this year’s marquee event in Fairfax politics in November, potentially overshadowing the races for the more powerful Board of Supervisors, which governs the county of more than 1 million residents."

September 23, 2011
Washington Post: Fairfax School Board Races: Change vs Continuity by Emma Brown

October 23, 2011
Washington Post: Character of Fairfax School Board Rests On This Fall's At-Large Races by Emma Brown

October 30, 2011
Washington Post: Fairfax County School Board Candidates by Emma Brown

November 4, 2011
Channel 9 News: Fairfax County School Board Elections on Nov. 8 - interviews with candidates.

November 8, 2011
Washington Post: Fairfax County School Board Control On Line But May See Little Change by Emma Brown

November 9, 2011
Washington Examiner: Election Pumps New Blood into Fairfax School Board by Aubrey Whelan

November 10, 2011
Washington Post: Even in Defeat, Fairfax School Board Candidates May Force Change by Emma Brown.

October 18, 2011 - 2 Years and 7 Months Later

2011-10-18T21:09:00.004-04:00

Tim and I just got back from a week in Palm Desert, CA - just what the doctor ordered. A golfer's mecca, he played every day while I played twice. On my five non-golf days, I practiced at a local Bikram (hot) yoga studio - challenging but good.

A strange, or not so strange thing happened while driving back from an Indian restaurant. We ended up on some back roads and lo and behold, one of them was called Joshua Road. What are the chances that we would find ourselves on that road in a part of town that we never travel? It was Josh - just letting us know that he is always with us, wherever we are.

This reminds me of what happened to our son, Tyler. Like many other large families, we owned vans. Useful vehicles to cart kids, sports equipment and mountains of groceries. As the kids got older, each had their turn to drive our last van, affectionately dubbed "Big Red" while Lauren had it at UVA The upkeep was just enough to ensure it passed inspection. This meant that when the air conditioning went out, it went unfixed.

Big Red then passed to Gillian and then to Josh. We felt more comfortable with him driving a big van rather than a smaller car and besides, it was an Anderson "right of passage" to drive a car in Virginia without air conditioning. After he died, Big Red was due for a safety inspection. We did not think it would pass, so gave the car to Tyler because in Georgia, where he lived, there is no such inspection. Surprisingly, the van held up for quite a while. But then Tyler decided to trade it in for more reliable, fully functioning car.

While driving away in his new car, he felt sad because Big Red had been a connection with Josh. He decided to check out Pandora and completely unexpected, the first song that played, which should not have based on how the app works was "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. Played at Josh's funeral, this song will forever remind us of him. Tyler said this was like Josh saying, "it's okay, I'm still here."

While I am at it, one more thing happened recently. I was typing an email for work and instead of the person's name, my fingers typed "Josh". I just looked at it, shook my head and smiled as I deliberately deleted each letter. I wasn't thinking of him at the time but maybe he was thinking of me? Or wanted to make sure that I still remembered him? I don't know but with these three incidents I want to believe that his spirit is alive and well.

RIP dear Josh and keep letting us know you are okay.

Denial vs Disbelief

2011-09-28T06:00:00.005-04:00

It has been a little over 2.5 years since Josh has left us and I have been thinking a lot about two words: denial and disbelief.

Denial is one of the 5 stages of grief noted by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross in her landmark book, On Death and Dying, published in 1969. These stages (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance) were originally applied to those facing death from a terminal illness. The audience was later broadened to include those who suffered a catastrophic loss.

Webster-Merriam's definition of denial is simple: refusal to admit the truth or reality of something unpleasant. This is not me. Not when Josh's absence is evident every day and the last interaction with my beloved boy is now over 2.5 years old. The memories of a frozen seventeen year old are etched in my mind and branded on my heart. And as I look to the future, that number will only get bigger and bigger and perhaps more painful, not less.

Words that describe disbelief are amazement, astonishment and incredulity. This is me. I am still amazed that our son took his life. I shake my head in disbelief. I know it is true but my mind has difficulty comprehending the fact. This picture is by my computer.

Sometimes I stare at it wondering how the unthinkable happened to Josh, to us, to our family, to me. How could it have happened? How could it have gotten so bad in his mind? How could a kid with everything get to a point where nothing mattered except finding a permanent way to deal with his loss and pain? Maybe part of this disbelief is wrapped up in the constant, unanswerable question of why? But if I knew why, would it be easier to believe? I don't know.

This picture was taken in 2003, six years before "IT" happened. I look at our smiling faces, totally oblivious to the impending doom of which we are now survivors. It is hard to write these posts as I am forced to face my thoughts and feelings head on. I am still so very sad that he is gone. I still feel a mother's guilt which is now mixed with self-pity - a strange concoction.

Life, Death and Phone Calls

2011-09-14T08:00:00.011-04:00

We received happy news in the family - a new baby! My sister-in-law had gone into labor and without knowing what happened, I went to bed. When I woke up, I grabbed the phone and called my mom. You know times are different when your 75-year-old mother's first response was "Oh, didn't you see the email?" Then, "she had a healthy baby girl!"

My journal entry later that morning:

Pre-technology revolution, pre-email, it would've been phone calls to family members. We had our list of people to call after each of our kids were born - strange - just remembered it is the same list of who to call when someone dies. At birth and at death - the first people you call are immediate family.

I had to call Tim - after I found Josh. Poor guy - he was on the Beltway and had to drive home after hearing the news. After the worse was confimed, we had to call our children. Tim did that. What do you say? How do you tell your children that one of their siblings is no longer alive? I don't know. I am glad that I did not have to make those calls.

I did call my mom and practically screamed the news to her - "JOSH IS DEAD...HE KILLED HIMSELF." I let her tell my brother and sister, I think. I then had to call my boss and tell him why I couldn't go to a client meeting that day and why I wouldn't be back to work for an undetermined time. Being a father himself, he was full of compassion.

Within several short hours of these calls, our family began rallying around us. And now, over two years later, we have a new baby in the family whom we will surround with love and support.

This is what happens in my journal. I begin writing about one thing and then my thoughts flow to memories that still reside close to the surface. Tears flowed freely as I recalled that horrible day and the phone calls made.

RIP Josh. I wish you were hear to see your new baby cousin. You are forever loved and missed.

Remembering Josh - 28 Months Later

2011-08-18T08:00:00.099-04:00

Where has the time gone? It is hard to believe that another 18th is here, another summer sans Josh (our third) is almost over, and that his friends are leaving for their sophomore year in college. Time relentlessly marches on and all I can do is move along with it.

And despite the fact that it has been over 2 years since Josh has left us, his memory still burns brightly in the hearts of family and friends.

We just got back from a trip to visit Tim's parents and below are pictures of a bottle of wine they received. When my mother-in-law drew my attention to the bottle, I just focused on the wine type - pinot noir. Then she said, "look at the name." When the beautiful script "Josh" registered in my brain, a very strange feeling occurred which happens periodically when I unexpectedly hear or see something that reminds me of our beloved boy. Every cell, muscle and organ in my body stops - for one millisecond - as the memory of his death washes over me.

The same thing happened when I was sent these pictures from the moms of two of Josh's friends, who had recently gotten tattoos - in his memory. One of them shared the reason:

I got this tattoo of Josh's initials and date of death on my back because he always had my back and near my heart because that's where he'll always be.

This beautiful arm tattoo has Josh's nickname and his football jersey number.

RIP Josh - forever loved and always remembered.

Thoughts from "A Widow's Story" by Joyce Carol Oats - Part One

2011-08-13T11:14:00.289-04:00

I read this moving memoir in May and wrote a post soon afterwards with the intent of writing more.  I journaled extensively while reading so have my "notes" from which to write a post - which I've attempted numerous times. Why so hard to get started? As I sit and ponder this question, no answer comes to mind, only possibilities.

Maybe it is because I only have a set amount of emotional energy and since reading the book, I have taken a job at another company and have been supporting my parents through my dad's recent health issue (two surgeries to address a leg aneurism). And while I like my new job and my dad's recovery is going well, both situations have been prolonged and stressful.

Or maybe this task, for some unexplicable reason was one that I could not do at the time I tried. When this happens, I've learned the important lesson of being "kind to myself".  The last thing this grieving mother needs is additional undue pressure.

Another example where I've not pushed myself is with regard to Josh's room, more specifically his desk and closet. My self-prescribed task is to go through his things meticulously, with a fine-toothed comb, looking for clues. You'd think this would be one of the "must do" tasks, completed well within the first year of death. Maybe for another mother, but not for me. And I cannot explain why, only that I can't. It is not time, even though almost 28 months has passed. I am not ready. For what? For the possibility of finding out why our funny, intelligent, athletic, well-liked son took his own life? For fear of the anticipated flood of emotions as I look through his personal items? I don't know.

Now to the book.   There is so much that I could relate to which tells me that when it comes to the sudden and tragic loss of a loved one, be it Oates' spouse of 47 years who succumbed to a hospital contracted staph infection, or a seventeen year son who died by suicide, the feelings are similar.

Much of Oates' writing is via stream of consciousness, which allows her thoughts to flow uncensored to the page (or so it seems). On the night her husband died, she was sleeping peacefully at home, anticipating Ray's release in a couple of days. Then the phone rang. She left for the hospital in the middle of the night, obeying the speed limit and traffic lights (why?) and did not make it before he died, which was on February 18, 2008....exactly 13 months before Josh. Now, dates are always relative to March 18, 2009 - always.

That I was sleepting at the time when my husband was dying is so horrible a thought; I can't confront it....And so I'd been eating when my husband had succombed to that terrible fever that precipitated his death - the thought is repulsive to me, obscene....It was the most horrific thought - my husband died among strangers. I was not with him, to comfort him, to touch him or hold him - I was asleep, miles away. Asleep! The enormity of this fact is too much to comprehend, I feel that I will spend the remainder of my life trying to grasp it.

I, too, slept, woke up and showered, and was working in my office while Josh as dead in his room. By suicide! My baby! The beautiful, happy boy that is in all the pictures on my fridge, all over my house. How could this be?? Over 2 years later - that question is as fresh as the week after it happened. Like her, I will spend the rest of my life trying to grasp it - make sense of it, comprehend and understand it which will probably never happen.

On the death certificate:

I will discover on the death certificate noting that Raymond J. Smith died of cardiopulmonary arrest, complications following pneumonia. 12:50 am. February 18, 2008.

I have not seen Josh's death certificate....Tim has. He told me, "No need to look."

On getting perspective with what really matters:

The minutiae of our lives: telephone calls, errands, appointments. None of these is the slightest significance to others and but fleetingly to us yet they constitute such a portion of our lives, it might be argued that our lives are a concatenation of minutiae interrupted at unpredicatble times by significant events.

This rings true. I was attending to such minutiae (which escapes recollection), on that fateful morning when life was turned upside down, when a part of my soul died, when a hole was formed in my heart that only Josh can fill. Such tasks now, compared to the overwhelming loss of a beloved child, are nothing....just necessary nuisances.

Oates' thoughts on the hospital vigil which I can relate to because of my dad's recent hospitalizations:

There are two categories of hospital vigils. The vigil with the happy ending, and the other. Embarked upon the hospital vigil as in a small canoe on a churning white-water river you can have no clear idea which vigil you are embarked upon - the vigil with the happy ending, or the other - until it has come to an end. Until the patient has been discharged from the hospital and brought safely home. Or not discharged, and never brought home.

Her husband wanted to be cremated. While Joyce was at the funeral home making arrangements, with no advanced warning whatsoever, she was asked to identify Ray's body. Completely unprepared, she elected not to do so.

I will regret this moment. I will regret this decision. I will never understand why at this crucial moment I behave in such a childish way, as if my husband whom I love has become physically repulsive to me. How ashamed I will be, at this decision: like a child shrinking away, hiding her eyes.

Those in our immediate family were able to say "good-bye" to Josh on Friday night, before the funeral service the next day. I remember walking across the parking lot of the funeral home with a pit in my stomach thinking over and over, "I don't want to be here....I don't want to be here." It was inexplicably hard, requiring tremendous courage, but so very necessary - to provide a sense of closure.

Oates's grief analogies which I found interesting but did not quite understand:

Advice to the widow: Do not think that grief is pure, solomn, austere, and "elevated," this is not Mozart. Think of crude coarse gravel that hurts to walk on. Think of splotched mirrors in public lavatories. Think of towel dispensers when they have broken and there is nothing to wipe your hands on except already-used badly soiled towels.

What I wrote in my journal:

Think of emotional pain so deep that it hurst physically. Think of more tears than what you thought possible for a body to produce. Think of waves - relentless, constant, pounding with no relief in sight. Think of being inside a pressure cooker - to the point of explosion. Think of driving on a straight, narrow road with nothing by dead, brown grass on either side and a completely grey sky. There is no end in sight as the road goes to infinity.

Think of a powerful, swirling vortex or whirlpool where you are caught helpless, swirling around and around, eventually swallowed up. Or think of a piece of debris whirling around and around in a never-ending, violently strong tornado. Or think of a roller coaster that shakes you so hard that you are scared, sick and end up with a terrible migraine.

I will end this post with quotes from two of her friends:

Grief is exhausting and requires the strength of an Olympic athlete.

Suffer, Joyce. Ray was worth it.

Thoughts from "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote

2011-08-06T11:00:00.001-04:00

A highly recommended book published in 1965 which is hailed as the first in a new genre: the non-fiction novel (see post on reading blog).

Two men brutally murder an innocent family of four in December of 1959 in a small farm town called Holcomb, Kansas. Capote spends the next four years following the story: leads on the murderers, the eventual arrest, the trial and ultimately, the sentence - death by hanging. Due to his fame as a literary star, he was given unlimited access to the prisoners.

One of the murderers, Perry Smith is empathatically portrayed in Capote's book as his was a sad and sorry life, touched multiple times by suicide. Because I am a survivor of suicide, I was moved by Smith's story and wonder if I would've felt the same reading this "pre-Josh" - probably not.

One of four children, Perry had a very unstable childhood. Upon his parent's divorce, he lived with his alcoholic mother who eventually died of alcoholism (slow suicide) when he was a young teen. His father was out of the picture which meant he was placed in various orphanages where he suffered abuse and torture as a bed-wetter.

Tragedy followed his family. His brother Jimmy, the eldest with the most promise, married but was obsessively jealous of his wife. She shot herself and when Jimmy found her, he shot himself - a double suicide. Perry's favorite sister Fern, drank heavily and went out of a 15 story window - another possible suicide. In a family of six, when three are dead by their own hand, the psychological affects must have been tremendous. Barbara, his only surviving sibling was also interviewed by Capote and revealed fears about herself and her family.

The eldest, the brother she loved, had shot himself; Fern had fallen out of a window or jumped; and Perry was committed to violence, a criminal. So, in a sense, she was the only survivor; and what tormented her was the thoughts that in time she, too, would be overwhelmed; go mad, or contract an incurable illness, or in a fire lose all she valued - home, husband, children.....They shared a doom against which no virtue was a defense.

When a family has been touched by horrible tragedy, the feeling of vulnerability is pronounced. I admit to having crazy, irrational fears that in another moment of deep darkness and sheer desparation, someone else in my family will choose suicide - something, "pre-Josh", that I would never have considered. But now, it is a possibility.

I desperately wish I had this awareness in early 2009, while we were going through everything with Josh. If so, would I have been more dilligent? Not taken "no" for an answer? For I did ask the question, almost embarrassingly, "have you ever thought about hurting yourself?" which Josh shook off like it was the most stupidest question ever. And I accepted his answer because I thought the same - a stupid question - of course, he would not do anything. I didn't think he cared enough to be suicidal.

Not surprisingly, Perry admits to having suicidal thoughts throughout his life.

As a child he had often thought of killing himself, but those were sentimental reveries born of a wish to punish his father and mother and other enemies. From young manhood onward, however, the prospect of ending his life had more and more lost its fantastic quality. That, he mush remember, was Jimmy's "solution," and Fern's, too. And lately it had come to seem not just an alternative but the specific death awaiting him.

And while incarcerated, he saw it as a way to escape fate:

...despite the jailer's precautions (no mirror, no belt or tie or shoelaces), he had devised a way to do it. For he also was furnished with a ceiling bulb that burned eternally, had in his cell a broom, and by pressing the broom-brush again the bulb he could unscrew it. One night he dreamed that he'd unscrewed the bulb, broken it, and with the broken glass cut his wrists and ankles "I felt all breath and light leaving me," he said, in a subsequent description of his sensations. "The walls of the cell fell away, the sky came down, I saw the big yellow bird."

What about those who knew the murdered family? Of specific interest to me were the friends of the kids for two of the victims were high school students, Nancy (16) and Kenyon (15). Nancy's best friend, Sue Kidwell (who actually discovered the bodies), talked to Capote about the days right after the murders.

We were like sisters. I couldn't go to school - not those first few days. I stayed out of school until after the funeral [just like Josh's friends]. So did Bobby Rupp [Nancy's boyfriend]. For a while Bobby and I were always together. He's a nice boy - he has a good heart - but nothing very terrible had ever happened to him before. Like losing someone he loved. And then, on top of it, having to take a lie-detector test. I don't mean he was bitter about that; he realized the police were doing what they had to do. Some hard things, two or three, had already happened to me, but not to him, so it was a shock when he found out maybe life isn't one long basketball game.

Mostly, we drove around in his old Ford. Up and down the highway. Out to the airport and back. Or we'd go up to the Cree-Mee - that's a drive-in - and sit in the car, order a Coke, listen to the radio. The radio was always playing; we didn't have anything to say ourselves. Except once in a while Bobby said how much he'd love Nancy, and how he could never care about another girl. Well, I was sure Nancy wouldn't have wanted that, and I told him so.

From Bobby's point of view:

Everybody - his parents and every one of his seven brothers and sisters - had treated him gently since the tragedy. All the same, at mealtimes he was told again and again that he must please eat. No one comprehended that really he was ill, that grief had made him so, that grief had drawn a circle around him he could not escape from and others could not enter - except possibly Sue. Without her almost constant presence, how could he have withstood such an avalanche of shocks...Then after about a month, the friendship waned. Bobby went less frequently to sit in the Kidwells' tiny, cosy parlor, and when he did go, Sue seemed not as welcoming. The trouble was that they were forcing each other to mourn and remember what in fact they wanted to forget.

These passages remind me of Josh's friends - those who did not go to school for a few days after. The many who came to our home to join us in grief, sorrow, and tears; the sharing of memories, looking at pictures, and writing good-bye notes to him in a treasured journal. I can't begin to imagine what is is like to lose a close friend at such a young age. How does the teenage mind process this? How do they cope? I just hope that our "open-door" policy at the time of Josh's death helped his friends. Witnessing the uninhibited outpouring of love and emotion certainly helped me.

New Job - New People: The Question

2011-07-09T07:54:00.002-04:00

After Josh had been gone a little over 18 months, I wrote a post on "The Question."

Over two years later, I am still struggling with this. I started a new job two weeks ago where no one knew about Josh, his death, his suicide. I am reluctant to share about what happened for fear of instant judgement. If they knew I had a son who chose to end his life, would they view me differently? And is there a part of me that likes to be with people who have no idea? With whom I can pretend that "it" didn't happen? That I am just like them - raising kids the best way we can?

Last week, while at the regional office, I was asked to fill out a contact sheet with the names of my spouse and children. Immediately, my mind began racing - what do I do? What do I write down? Do I write Josh's name with a (D) for deceased or (3-18-09)? I know what that means but would others?

After sitting for a few minutes, pen poised above the paper, I did what felt right at the time and put down Tyler, Lauren and Gillian. After turning it in, I was filled with doubt and even worse - guilt. Now, when my new colleagues see it, they will think I only have three children. Am I deceiving them? Am I taking the easy way out? Am I betraying Josh's memory? Or is it okay that I know the truth and that I am sparing them the awkwardness of a very sad and tragic story in which there is nothing to say? If Josh could see what I did, how would he feel? I still don't know if I did the right thing.

I made another trip to the office this week and while in the car going back to the airport with a colleague and the CEO of the company, he asked me point blank, "How many children do you have?" This specific question has only one answer - four. I said, "That's a hard question" then realized how stupid that sounded. It is not a hard question at all. It is simply a number. I quickly said, "Three surviving and one who has died." I then talked about T, L and G. There were no follow-up questions. It was awkward. As I look back on it, I am not sure they heard, but of course they did. Now it's out there. But I realized something - that in the general course of the day, people do not want to hear about death. I got out of the car and wondered if I should've said something different....but what?

So I am damned if I do and damned if I don't. This bothers me. I am even a little mad at Josh for putting me in the situation where I feel guilty either way.

But I want to be fair to myself. I want people to get to know me before knowing what happened to Josh. This shows me that the stigma of suicide is alive and well. I don't know how people will react. I don't have complete trust in their reaction. I need to get to know them before imparting or sharing about my beloved Josh. His life and my memory of him is a precious treasure that I cannot entrust to just anyone. I need to get to know them - are they worthy of this knowledge? With they hold it in confidence or go blabbing as a juicy piece of gossip?

So now I've gone from feeling like I have something shameful to hide to feeling protective of Josh. Only the most empathetic, kind-hearted soul will learn of him. Only those who have suffered loss and are hurting - those whom my story may help will learn of him. This is how I feel now.

Through my writing, I see how fragile I still am. How wounded. Sore. Thin-skinned. Vulnerable. How easily, so easily the tears can flow. How crushing the loss still feels - as if he died recently instead of over two years ago.

RIP beloved son. You are still missed so very, very much.

"The Catcher In the Rye" - Chapters 11 - end

2011-06-30T12:55:00.005-04:00

The last post left off with Holden impulsively taking the train into New York City. As we follow him through the next 48 hours, his current depressive state is reinforced by random thoughts, what he sees and smells and events that occur when roaming around the city.

Random thought:

The more I thought about my gloves and my yellowness, the more depressed I got.

After being out at a bar, he comes back to the hotel lobby:

The whole lobby was empty. It smelled like fifty million dead cigars. It really did. I wasn't sleepy or anything, but I was feeling sort of lousy. Depressed and all. I almost wished I was dead.

He was solicited by a the elevator man/pimp:

It was against my principles and all but I was feeling so depressed I didn't even think. That's the whole trouble. When you're feeling very depressed, you can't even think.

While hanging the prostitute's dress up in the closet:

I thought of her going into a store and buying it, and nobody in the store knowing she was a prostitute and all. The salesman probably just thought she was a regular girl when she bought it. It made me feel sad as hell. I don't know why exactly.

Nothing happened and she leaves. It is almost daylight.

Boy, I felt miserable. I felt so depressed, you can't even imagine. What I did, I started talking, sort of out loud, to Allie. I do that sometimes when I get very depressed.

The prostitute and elevator man/pimp comes back to Holden's room, wanting more money. He resists and gets punched in the stomach. After they leave, he takes a bath and tries to sleep.

What I really felt like, though, was committing suicide. I felt like jumping out the window. I probably would've done it, too, if I'd been sure somebody'd cover me up as soon as I landed. I didn't want a bunch of stupid rubbernecks looking at me when I was all gory.

I wrote these quotes in my journal because they describe how Holden's sad and lonely feelings spiral down a dark path to suicidal ideology.

My questions: Is this how it feels to become deeply depressed in a relatively short period of time? Is this what Josh felt that fateful night? Can a teenage boy who was seeing a counselor for a year and never diagnosed as "depressed" become situationally depressed? And if it is acute enough, can the mind and body take the leap to suicide?

The next night, Holden was getting drunk in a bar.

I was crying and all. I don't know why, but I was. I guess it was because I was feeling so damn depressed and lonesome.

To clear his head, he filled a basin in the bathroom with cold water and dunked in his head. Then he went outside in the freezing cold and walked to Central Park. He sat on a park bench and began obsessing over the possibility of getting pneumonia and dying. He thought about his brother's death and how he was not able to go to the funeral, due to his hand.

I have about fifty aunts - and all my lousy cousins. They all came when Allie died, the whole goddam stupid bunch of them. I have this one stupid aunt with halitosis that kept saying how peaceful he looked lying there.

Reading this passage reminded me of Josh's funeral because he did look at peace. Tim and I had never organized a funeral before - so many decision to make! And within 24 hours! Trying to make good choices while in shock is indescribably difficult. Thanks goodness we had a close family friend and Tim's brother helping us out.

The funeral director suggested that we have an open casket for the public viewing. I knew a lot of Josh's friends would be in attendance and was concerned for them. How would they react, seeing their friend in a cushion-lined box...dead? He said that it would be important for them to see Josh and say their good-byes. A part of me wishes I could've witnessed this rather than accepting condolences in the lobby. But it probably would've been unbearably difficult.

At the private viewing the night before, one of our daughters could not do it. She ran out of the room where Josh lay, surrounded by flowers, down the stairs and to the car, sobbing. I was in no condition to help her and thank God, one of our dear friends comforted her. They talked and after a while, she was able to come back in. So with Tim and I on either side, she said her good-bye to her brother, touched and kissed him - one last time. It was hard, but in retrospect, she's glad she did it. It makes me wonder if some of Holden's issues stem from not being at his brother's funeral.

The novel ends as it begins, with Holden in some sort of psychiatric hospital or sanitarium, telling his story. We do not find out, however, what happened to put him there. I wouldn't be surprised if the cause was attempted suicide.

Did Josh ever read this story? If so, did any of Holden's thoughts and feeling resonate? I don't know but wish I did.

RIP beloved son. I wish you could've survived that terrible, dark night. If so, maybe you would be here now.

"The Catcher In the Rye" - Chapters 4-10

2011-06-13T08:00:00.004-04:00

In the previous post, I asked the following questions:

Holden seems "on the edge" mentally and emotionally. What's made him this way?
He is like a ticking bomb. How does he deal with his extreme thoughts and feelings? His MO is extreme action so what does he do next?
And will he continue to remind me, in part, of Josh?

Answers are given in these chapters.

At the very beginning of the book, we learn that Holden is looking back in time, recalling and recounting events as best he can. He is currently in a "crumby place" and plans to tell us, the reader, about all the "madman stuff that happened to me around last Christmas just before I got pretty run down (nervous breakdown?) and had to come out here (mental hospital?) and take it easy." My questions in italics.

So his story begins while at Pencey, waiting to leave for Christmas break. He already knows he will not be coming back due to his failing academic record. One night he is roped into writing a descriptive essay for his jock roommate, Stradlater. It is supposed to be about a room or a house but Holden decides to write about his brother's baseball mitt, one of his prized possessions. It is unique because his brother "had poems written all over the fingers and the pocket and everywhere. In green ink. He wrote them on it so that he'd have something to read when he was in the field and nobody was up to bat." And it is prized because of three awful words: "He's dead now."

Holden was thirteen years old when his brother Allie, died of leukemia and is now telling the story as a seventeen year old. His description (exaggerated) of Allie:

He was two years younger than I was, but he was about fifty times as intelligent. He was terrifically intelligent...He was also the nicest, in a lot of ways.

What did Holden do when this happened?

I slept in the garage the night he died, and I broke all the goddam windows with my fist, just for the hell of it.

What does he think about that now?

It was a very stupid thing to do, I'll admit, but I hardly didn't even know I was doing it, and you didn't know Allie.

Meaning - when he thinks of it now, yes, it was stupid. But it felt right at the time. He wasn't thinking, just reacting. And we would also do something stupid or crazy if we knew Allie the way he did.

What was the consequence?

Psychoanalysis and "my hand still hurts me once in a while, when it rains and all, and I can't make a real fist any more - not a tight one, I mean - but outside of that I don't care much. I mean I'm not going to be a goddam surgeon or violinist or anything anyway.

The same night that he wrote the essay, Holden ends up in a verbal altercation with Stradlater which gets physical. The same pattern is initiated: Extreme thoughts lead to extreme feelings lead to extreme actions. After the fight, he feels "so lonesome, all of a sudden, I almost wished I was dead." So what does he do next?

But all of a sudden, I changed my mind. All of a sudden, I decided what I'd really do, I'd get the hell out of Pencey, right that same night....I'd take a room in a hotel - and just take it easy till Wednesday. Then, on Wednesday, I'd go home all rested and feeling swell.....besides, I sort of needed a little vacation. My nerves were shot. They really were.

And this is what he does. Packs up and takes a train to New York City.

How did he get from waiting to go home for Christmas, to ending up in a hotel room in New York City?? Is this where he thought he'd be that morning? No! Even an hour before? No! As he says, all of a sudden, an idea come into his head that seemed and felt right. So he acted. But in hindsight, he calls it "madman stuff".

I feel this is Josh. Did he know Tuesday morning that he would be dead within 24 hours? I have to think not. He spent time with his girlfriend studying for a test that he was supposed to take the next day. He even did his laundry which only happened when he was in desperate need of clean clothes. These two actions signal he was preparing for the future.

So in the dark hours of the night, I surmise that his mind was filled with extreme thoughts which led to extreme feelings. And out of this came an idea and a way to be done with all the burdens and pressures, a way to avoid another humiliating School Board hearing and a way to escape from starting all over at another school. Perhaps this idea came out of the blue or maybe it that had surfaced previously and was tucked away. But that night, unbeknownst to all who loved him, the idea of death must have seemed so right, so good, so perfect.....that he acted.

Josh - is this what happened to you?

FCPS School Board Votes on Disciplinary Policy Changes

2011-06-10T18:59:00.001-04:00

It was an emotional day yesterday, but a good and productive day - I think...I hope....I pray. In advance of last night's School Board meeting, where they were going to vote on changes to the current harsh, punitive and draconian disciplinary policies that caught our Josh in its net and pushed him to a point of no return, Peggy Fox from Channel 9 News came to our home for our first TV interview since his death.

She was very nice and easy to talk to - genuinely empathetic. For she has children and had spent time reading this blog - in tears. It sometimes surprises me that mothers who do not know us get emotional, but it shouldn't. For even if a mother has not lost a child, she can put herself in my shoes and feel my pain.

So the interview was hard. It was hard to re-live the circumstances around Josh's death, over 2 years ago. It was hard to recount that when Josh was transferred to South Lakes HS, he was not allowed to step foot at Langley HS for a year, and that we had to get special permission for him to play in a football game between the two schools and that if he were to continue to be a referee at youth basketball games, it could only be if Tim were with him. It was hard to think back to the horrible School Board hearing when our son was treated like a criminal instead of with compassionate understanding that he was a good kid who made a very bad mistake. It was hard to be asked the question: "If the FCPS policies were different, would Josh still be alive?"

Did Josh do something wrong? Yes.

Should he have been punished? Absolutely, but as a non-violent, first time offender. Josh was not a threat to his school community and did not need to be transferred to another school. And anyone who came to his funeral and witnessed the over 1,000 students pay their respects and say "good-bye" would know this to be true.

We went to the rally before the meeting where parents wore red, held signs up and spoke passionately about the need for change. We attended the meeting which was also hard. It was difficult to hear that in Montgomery County, according to research done by a School Board member, involuntary transfers are used as a last resort. So does this mean that if we lived in Maryland, our beloved Josh would still be alive? This is too painful to contemplate.

It was hard to hear some School Board members, despite two deaths and the numerous examples of negatively impacted students, still say things like "this policy has only affected 1% of the student population." What does that have to do with anything? Isn't each child important?  And that "these policies are in place to provide a safe environment for students and teachers." No one is saying a safe environment should be compromised. What we are saying is that these policies are flawed because they prosecute students who are NOT a threat to their school community as if they were.

It was clear to us who on the Board has listened to the community, read the stories, talked to parents and understood the obvious - that good kids make stupid mistakes. They act before they think. Their immature brains provide faulty justification for dumb teenage actions. That we are talking about kids, with their whole lives in front of them. These board members stepped up and proposed amendments to the Students Rights and Responsibilities that outline FCPS's discipline policies. Several amendments passed and I am hopeful that this will help. But I am disappointed that a critical amendment, one that addressed parent notification and presence before a child is interrogated or asked to provide a confession/statement did not pass. Thus, what happened last night is only the first step. More changes need to occur.

Note to all FCPS parents - because this amendment did not pass, YOU will need to protect the rights of your children by making it clear through written communication that if your child is caught for an infraction that starts the discipline process, school officials must wait until you are present before questioning your child.

As I sat there and watched the proceedings, I kept thinking the same thing over and over, Why wasn't this addressed when Josh died?  And let's be brutally honest, the only reason it is being addressed now is because of Nick's tragic death and the courageous advocacy of his family. And the in-depth reporting by Donna St. George of the Washington Post. And the pressure from the grass-roots parent advocacy group. And the continued spotlight by the local news channels which has now garnered national attention. It is NOT because of the leadership shown from the Superintendent or the School Board.

So I repeat the question - why wasn't this addressed when Josh had died? Why didn't someone stand up in March 2009 and say "A student has committed suicide and it is believed to be tied to our disciplinary policies. We need to investigate this and if there is even the smallest connection, we need to make changes for no other child will end his or her life on my watch." If Superintendent Jack Dale or the School Board had done this, Nick would be alive. Shame on Dale. Shame on the School Board. They are being shamed into action, which on top of our son's death, is tragic.

Links on the broadcasts from yesterday:

Channel 9 News at 5:00pm: Parents of Son Who Committed Suicide Rally for Changes  by Peggy Fox

Channel 9 News at 11:00pm: Disciplinary Policy Changes Coming to Fairfax County Schools

Channel 4 News at 11:00pm: Fairfax Schools Zero Tolerance Policy Nixed by Darcy Spencer

"The Catcher In the Rye" - Chapters 1-3

2011-06-07T06:26:00.002-04:00

First time reading this book by J. D. Salinger and LOVING IT. The book, like none other, has exposed the mind of a seventeen year old boy to me - Josh's age when he took his life. (For those new to the blog, my grief journey has led to a reading journey which you can read about here).

The story is told from the protagonist's point of view, Holden Caulfield. He is brutally honest about what he sees, thinks and feels - about his school, about adults, about his so called friends. His thoughts are clearly exaggerated (to the reader), but not to him. It is black and white. It is his reality and no one can change it. For me, this book clarifies the progression of the teenage mind and behavior. The following thought describes Holden and reminds me of Josh.

Extreme thoughts lead to extreme feelings which lead to extreme actions.

Holden's current school, Pency Prep is kicking him out because he is failing four out of five classes. This is his fourth school. In a conversation with his history teacher, Holden thinks about another school - one that he quit.

One of the biggest reasons I left Elkton Hills was because I was surrounded by phonies. That's all. They were coming in the goddam window. For instance, they had this headmaster, Mr. Haas, that was the phoniest bastard I ever met in my life.....I can't stand that stuff. I drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed I go crazy. I hated that goddam Elkton Hills.

I realize this is fiction but doesn't this happen to today's kids? That whatever bothers them about life: school, class, coach, team and heaven forbid, family, becomes too much that they just can't stand it and want to quit? And in Josh's case, the ultimate form of "quitting" is suicide?

Holden is a smart kid - why does he put himself down?

The book I was reading was this book I took out of the library by mistake. They gave me the wrong book, and I didn't notice it till I got back to my room. They gave me Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen. I thought it was going to stink, but it didn't. It was a very good book. I'm quite illiterate, but I read a lot.

How can you be illiterate and read a lot? The answer is you can't but this is Holden's reality, his view of himself.

These are my thoughts for now. As I continue reading, the top questions are:

Holden seems "on the edge" mentally and emotionally. What's made him this way? Why can't he stay in school? Why does he have such a laissez faire attitude about his life and future?
He is like a ticking bomb. How does he deal with the extreme thoughts and feelings? His MO is extreme action so what does he do next?
And will he continue to remind me, in part, of Josh?

Gorgeous June Day - Letter to Josh

2011-06-04T18:44:00.003-04:00

It is my custom to visit Josh every weekend. I have a box in my trunk complete with garden tools, scrub brush and paper towels. I also have one of those collapsible chairs that came in handy when the kids were playing sports and bleachers were either non-existent or inadequate.

After doing my usual "chores" such as trimming the grass around his stone, scrubbing the dirt, (who knew how much collects around the letters each week?), and the occasional bird junk off his marker, I set up the chair and prepare to write my weekly letter to him. Here is today's letter.

Dear Josh,

I wish you were alive - especially today as it is the most beautiful June day! The sky is blue - a light blue with swirls of very thin, wispy white clouds - not the puffy ones with edges and definition - but rather, like a very thin layer of frosting on a cake - so thin, the color of the cake shows through. Or think of a blue canvas, with a very, very light white layer that will change the color of that blue to something lighter - a mixture of blue and white. That is today's sky.

The sun's rays feel good - my skin tingles as its temperature slowly rises. The air is not humid or muggy but feels cool when a breeze kicks up. This same breeze moves through the big tree nearby and when I look up, the individual leaves move back and forth as though waving "hello". Sometime each leaf moves, other times, the whole branch moves up and down or side to side. What if each leaf had its own note? What a symphony that would be!

Sometimes I come and it is too hot to sit in the sun. Not today. If I had a towel, I could lay down and fall asleep - right here, close to you. Fall asleep while listening to the rustling leaves, sweet chimes and chirping birds with the sun's warmth like an invisible blanket.

What I am saying is this: that it is a beautiful, no, a gorgeous June day and you should be here! Alive! To experience and enjoy it with me. It is unfair that you are gone. You could've survived - it wasn't that bad, was it? You just hit a bad patch, okay, a horribly bad patch but we could've worked through it. Couldn't we have?

Why didn't you give me a chance to help you? Why didn't you give me a chance to prove how much I loved you? What I would've done to ensure you lived? To ensure that you would've chosen life? I'm sorry you didn't let me. No, I'm kind of mad you didn't let me. Actually, sometimes I am really pissed that you did this to yourself, your family, your friends, and to me. Why did you take that choice away?

And at the end of the day - at the very end of it all - you actually got your way. Do you regret it? Or not? Is whatever you have now - no burdens, worries or cares - worth it?

I don't know. I wish you were here. R.I.P.

Love, Mom

Poem 561 by Emily Dickinson

2011-06-02T17:17:00.000-04:00

Every word in this poem is perfectly chosen and placed. It says exactly how I feel - even after 2 years, 2 months and 15 days.

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing Eyes -
I wonder if It weighs like Mine -
Or has an Easier size

I wonder if They bore it long -
Or did it just begin -
I could not tell the Date of Mine -
It feels so old a pain -

I wonder if it hurts to live -
And if they have to try -
And whether - could they choose between -
It would not be to die -

When You Sign On To Be A Mother

2011-05-22T23:09:00.001-04:00

I have been reading A Widow's Story by Joyce Carol Oates, a prolific writer who, like Joan Didion, has penned her "grief journey" after the unexpected death of her life-long husband. She struggles terribly and being childless, her loneliness is acute and painful. I expect to be writing more posts on my thoughts from this brutally honest and poignant memoir.

But with my third Mother's Day without Josh in the rear view mirror, this particular quote struck me.

"When you sign on to be a wife, you are signing on to being a widow one day, possibly."

What about when you sign on to be a mother? My thoughts below.

"When you sign on to be a mother, you are signing on to experiencing a love so vast and immense, it is incomprehensible until you feel it - the first time you hold your child. For until this point, you have felt what you thought was love - for your parents, siblings and spouse. But nothing compares with this love, a mother's love - overwhelming, fierce and immeasurable.

You are no longer you - a woman, daughter, sister or wife - no, you have entered that sacred realm of a mother. With a love so feral, you would fight anything and anyone to protect your child. Where the decision to forgo your own life, if it meant the life of your child is ready-made, and if it came down to it, non-negotiable. No sacrifice is too big, you would do anything."

The only problem with loving your child this much - with all your heart and soul - is that this love, which makes you a good, caring and sacrificial mother, also makes you vulnerable. You are exposed.....to death, that merciless monster who could take your child away; by illness, accident, violence or in my son's case, suicide. You never expect to bury your child and when you do, a part of you dies and is buried too. This is the horrific "cost" of being a mother.

Is it worth it? Well, what is the alternative? Protect yourself by not having children? Or if you do, hold back on your love? No - these are not viable options. So you just have to pray, that if the unthinkable happens, that you, with the help of faith, family, and friends can survive the immense grief, a mother's grief.

Thoughts from "The Hours" by Michael Cunningham

2011-05-13T16:31:00.008-04:00

Earlier this year, I read Take the Dimness of My Soul Away: Healing After A Loved One's Suicide by William Ritter, in which a movie called The Hours was referenced (see blog post). Since then, I have not only watched the movie but have also read and journaled through the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. And while the story is about how three women's lives are interconnected, despite living in different time periods, one of the major threads that tie them together is suicide.

It is common knowledge (although unknown to me until Josh's death put "suicide" front and center in my mind), that Virginia Woolf died by drowning in 1941, after putting large rocks in her coat and walking into a river. She is the first woman we are introduced to in the prologue of The Hours. In the note left for her husband, her personal despair is clear as well as her belief that she is a burden to him, especially since she does not think recovery from her growing madness is possible.

"Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again: I feel we can't go through another of these terrible times....So I am doing what seems the best thing to do....I can't fight it any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work...I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been." V

The second woman introduced is Mrs. Laura Brown who is pregnant with her second child in the year 1949. She is unhappy in the role of housewife and mother and being an avid reader, she finds escape through books. It is while soaking in the beautiful prose of Woolf's book, Mrs. Dalloway, published in 1925, she thinks, "How, could someone who was able to write a sentence like that - come to kill herself? What in the world is wrong with people?"

My journal note: Encircled question mark and "How could a bright, healthy, popular, athletic boy, with the whole world in front of him, kill himself?" This is STILL the unanswerable question that remains in the back of my mind, firmly lodged. Will it still be there five, ten, twenty years after his death? Will I ever be able to let it go? I don't know.

Back to The Hours. The story moves back and forth in time, depending on the character. While the prologue begins with Woolf's suicide, the novel places her back in time, 1923 to be exact, when she is actually writing Mrs. Dalloway. It is difficult work as her mind does not always cooperate. She often took to walking and used the time to think through the plot of her books. On one such outing, she muses: "Clarissa Dalloway, will kill herself over something that seems, on the surface, like very little. Her party will fail, or her husband will once again refuse to notice some effort she's made about her person or their home. The trick will be to render intact the magnitude of Clarissa's miniature but very real desperation; to fully convince the reader that, for her, domestic defeats are every bit as devastating as are lost battles to a general."

My journal note: Devastated and desperate, defeated soul = suicide

I will now quote a lengthy passage from the book - of Laura Brown's contemplation of suicide, of life and of what leaving her family might mean.

"It is possible to die, Laura thinks, suddenly, of how she - how anyone - can make a choice like that. It is a reckless, vertiginous thought, slightly disembodied - it announces itself inside her head, faintly but distinctly, like a voice crackling from a distant radio station. She could decide to die. It is an abstract, shimmering notion, not particularly morbid.

It could, she thinks, be deeply comforting; it might feel so free: to simply go away. To say to them all, I couldn't manage, you had no idea; I didn't want to try anymore."

My journal note: "Did Josh feel this way?" Continuing with the passage:

"She could leave them all behind..in this battered world....saying to one another, We thought she was all right, we thought her sorrows were ordinary ones. We had no idea.

How could any of them recover from something like that? Nothing she might do as a living wife and mother, no lapse, no fit of rage or depression, could possibly compare. It would be, simply, evil. It would punch a hole in the atmosphere, through which everything she's created - the orderly days, the lighted windows, the table laid for supper - would be sucked away."

My journal note: Yes - the question to ask is how can anyone truly recover from the suicide of a loved one, be it mother, father, wife, husband, brother or sister? Is it the absolute worse thing you can do to a loved one? And yes, when Josh died, I felt like a hole was punched in the atmosphere of my "normal" life and sucked it away. It is gone and irretrievable. We must find a "new normal".

Scary quotes on suicide ideation (in Laura Brown's head)

"Still, she is glad to know (for somehow, suddenly, she knows) that it is possible to stop living. There is comfort in facing the full range of options; in considering all your choices, fearlessly and without guile. She imagines Virginia Woolf, virginal, unbalanced, defeated by the impossible demands of life and art; she imagines her stepping into a river with a stone in her pocket."

"She takes the bottle off the shelf, holds it up to the light. There are at least thirty pills inside, maybe more. She puts it back on the shelf. It would be as simple as checking into a hotel room. It would be a simple as that. Think how wonderful it might be to no longer matter. Think how wonderful it might be to no longer worry, or struggle, or fail. What if that moment at dinner - that equipoise, that small perfection - were enough? What if you decided to want no more?"

My journal note: suicide ideation and fixation. Where death becomes "wonderful". Escape. A solution. The right solution. A permanent solution. Very scary to think the mind, following a certain path, can end up here. Is this what happened to Josh that fateful night?

(There is a third woman, Clarissa Vaughan living in New York City in 1998. She is called Mrs. Dalloway by a close friend who is a former lover and poet, dying of AIDS. I will bypass writing about her for fear of spoiling to plot.)

The movie came out in 2002 and was up for 9 Academy Awards. I did not see it at the time, deeming it "too sad." However now, I was eager to read the book and watch the movie. This makes me see, yet again, how Josh's death has changed me - in deep, fundamental, inexplicable ways. My motives in reading or listening/watching any type of media are different. My tolerance level for certain subjects is higher.

I do not fear reading about tragedy and death with subsequent passages on sorrow, grief and pain. I have felt it. I am living it.

God Bless

Send Silence Packing:Raising Awareness of Student Suicide

2011-05-06T20:41:00.000-04:00

Josh's picture and story was part of a recent tour called Send Silence Packing, a suicide awareness program from Active Minds, which went to 11 college campuses and 2 cities. The pictures below are from Penn State. The display began outside and was moved indoor due to weather.

We found out about this program because the daughter of friends is involved in the chapter at her campus.

The goal of the organization is this: "Through campus-wide events and national programs, Active Minds aims to remove the stigma that surrounds mental health issues, and create a comfortable environment for an open conversation about mental health issues on campuses throughout North America."

The story of how this group began is particularly inspiring because we would like to find or begin a program for teens with the same goal, as any stigma that exists in college is that much greater in high school.

Josh's trees

2011-04-30T20:13:00.000-04:00

Spring has arrived in Virginia - one of the most beautiful times of the year. The two dogwood trees that were planted in Josh's memory in 2009 have bloomed again - see previous post.

Bittersweet to see as they are reminder of yet another year that has passed without our beloved Josh.

God Bless

Joan Didion's Grief Journey in "The Year of Magical Thinking"

2011-04-13T16:00:00.003-04:00

For those who have lost a loved one, I would highly recommend this book. Like C.S Lewis in A Grief Observed, Joan Didion, as a writer takes pen to paper to chronicle her grief journey. More than usual dog-ear and underlining in this book. Thoughts and quotes below come from my journal, written a week after Josh's second year death anniversary.

Just a few short days after her husband suddenly died from a heart attack while eating dinner, she wrote:

Live changes fast. Life changes in an instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends. The question of self-pity.

Nine months later, she began writing this book.

It was in fact the ordinary nature of everything preceding the event that prevented me from truly believing it had happened, absorbing it, incorporating it, getting past it.

Yes, this is how I feel about "it". An ordinary Wednesday. I was working, getting ready to leave the house for a meeting. Tim had already left. I went to give Josh the phone and at first, saw that his bed was empty. Strange. Then went all through the house looking for him. Could he have left the house? No, we would have heard him. When I went back into his room, I found him. Why me? Why by myself? Why didn't Tim find him before leaving? I haven't been able to think or write about this until now.

She writes about the impact of grief:

Grief, when it comes, is nothing we expect it to be...Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.

The power of grief to derange the mind has in fact been exhaustively noted.

She writes about the look of the bereaved:

People who have recently lost someone have a certain look, recognizable maybe only to those who have seen that look on their own faces. I have noticed it on my face and I notice it now on others. The look is one of extreme vulnerability, nakedness, openness. It is the look of someone who walks from the ophthalmologist's office into the bright daylight with dilated eyes. These people who have lost someone look naked because they think themselves invisible. I myself felt invisible for a period of time, incorporeal. I seemed to have crossed one of those legendary rivers that divide the living from the dead, entered a place in which I could be seen only by those who were themselves recently bereaved.

After some time has passed, she experiences fears - of being along, getting hurt and dying. My fears are different. I fear the "other shoe dropping" - that something will happen to one of my other three kids.

I don't normally quote long passages in my journal or on this blog, but this one, I must:

Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the nature of even those few days or weeks. We might expect if the death is sudden to feel shock. We do not expect this shock to be obliterative, dislocating to both mind and body. We might expect that we will be prostrate, inconsolable, crazy with loss. We do not expect to be literally crazy, cool customers who believe their husband is about to return and need his shoes.

In the version of grief we imagine, the model will be "healing." A certain forward movement will prevail. The worse days will be the earliest days. We imagine that the moment to most severely test us will be the funeral, after which this hypothetical healing will take place. When we anticipate the funeral we wonder about failing to "get through it," rise to the occasion, exhibit the "strength" that invariably gets mentioned as the correct response to death. We anticipate needing to steel ourselves for the moment: will I be able to greet people, will I be able to leave the scene, will I be able even to get dressed that day?

We have no way of knowing that the funeral itself will be an anodyne, a kind of narcotic regression in which we are wrapped in the core of others and the gravity and meaning of the occasion. Nor can we know ahead of the fact (and here lies the heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is) the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the meaningless of life.

Wow - what a passage. What truth. This is why I read. To understand. To illuminate. To find words, sentences, thoughts, passages that express with such precision and uncanniness what I think and feel. I say "yes, yes, yes" to it all. If in church, I would shout "AMEN!"

Didion is right, the funeral is not the problem. Our home was calm and quiet the morning of Saturday, March 21, 2009. Seemed even more so after the three days of family, friends and kids who came to pay their respects. It was just our immediate family at home, getting ready. We had all worked on what we were going to say. Tyler, Lauren and Gillian read aloud what they had written. Lauren was running around in a green cover-up for her bathing suit that could in a stretch, be mistaken for a dress. At one point, Tyler actually thought she was wearing it to the funeral - too funny.

I wore a black dress that was bought on sale a few weeks prior, never thinking the first (and so far only) time I would wear it would be at Josh's funeral. All arrangements had been made. We drove to the church. I remember it being a bright, sunny day. The foyer was beautiful. Flowers, photo collage, his big football photo, lots of light. All the people. All the kids. Being surprised at how many came. The service was what we wanted - a loving, uplifting tribute to a beloved young soul who impacted many.

No, the funeral is not the problem. It is as she says - the days after, when the reality sinks in, when everyone is gone and the absence is really, deeply felt. The loss of a child to a mother is so enormous that I am convinced, it can only be felt in stages for if I felt everything at once, I could not survive. My heart would literally break.

It has taken over two years before I can think and write about the day I found Josh and of memories from the funeral. I am sad but dry-eyed. What does this mean? The beginning of acceptance? Of understanding? That I've absorbed his death into my life, my being?

I had another "wow" moment towards the end of her book when she references listening to Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's "Over the Rainbow" which was played at Josh's funeral and is part of the playlist accessible on the side of the blog.

I will close with this quote which is why I have no plans to stop writing on this blog. And why Didion did not not want to finish her book.

I know why we try to keep the dead alive: we try to keep them alive in order to keep them with us.

God Bless

Our Reaction to Dale's 10 Recommendations to Reform the Current Disciplinary Process

2011-03-31T21:59:00.004-04:00

First of all, we want to say shame on Superintendent Dale and the School Board for taking action only after a second young life tragically lost to suicide has galvanized enough parental outrage and demand for change, due in large part to the courageous advocacy of the Stuban family and the unrelenting media scrutiny from the Washington Post and local news stations.

The Zero Tolerance Reform advocacy group was in existence several years prior to Josh's death and had been calling attention, albeit on deaf ears, to this draconian and overly harsh punitive process. Had reforms occurred at that time, perhaps our son would be alive.

We find it interesting that the 10 recommendations below are being touted by school officials as "the most sweeping changes in more than a dozen years." As Tim says, if nothing has been done in many years, any change will be "sweeping". We see this as county "spin" to make this look better than what it really is.

Refining notification rules and helping parents prepare for the process
Helping students and parents understand their rights and responsibilities
Recording all disciplinary hearings
Shortening the disciplinary process
Providing instructional and intervention support for students in limbo
Giving more power to principals
Collecting data on existing and any new disciplinary processes
Urging parents to fill out exit surveys after hearings and school board rulings
Training and retraining staff on disciplinary guidelines
Continuing the "Positive Behavioral Interventions and Support" programs across all schools

Do you have the same reaction as we do when reading this list? Aren't these just "bare minimum" items? Isn't the county exposing how little attention has been placed on the disciplinary process that affected over 600 students last year and largely responsible for the deaths of two? A process that all 175,000 students are exposed to?

Let's be honest Superintendent Dale and School Board members, this list isn't about true reform - it is about establishing procedures that should've been in place from the start.

For example, how can FCPS subject students to involuntary transfers, basically ripping them out of their community, and not collect data on the impact of this highly punitive action to the student? We find this "unconscionable".

This is a start but there is a long way to go. Here is our list that would signal true reform.

IMMEDIATE CHANGE that must be demanded by all FCPS parents:

Parents MUST BE notified if their child has done anything to warrant suspension. There should be NO questioning of the student by school administrators or SRO (School Resource Officers) and NO searching of student property until at least one parent is present.
Stop involuntary transfers immediately until the process has been reformed. Heaven help the Superintendent and School Board if another FCPS student who has been involuntarily transferred attempts or succeeds in suicide.

REFORM the process

The initial hearing should be at the local schools. Only if the student is deemed a threat to the school community by people who know the student, should it be "kicked" up the School Board Hearing Office.
Use the money saved by reducing the Hearing office (the cost is approximately $1.6 million) to provide training on the local level for these hearings.
First time juvenile offenders should be treated as such. Distinctions must be made between dumb teen mistakes and hardened criminal activity. It should not be that the law treats these kids with more compassion and understanding than the school system.
Consequences should match the offense with a goal of education and reform. Kids should be able to make dumb teen mistakes and learn from them without wholesale change and disruption to their lives. NOTE: We are not saying that kids who break rules shouldn't be punished. They should be. But not in a way that is overly harsh and punitive.
SRO presence in schools should be re-evaluated. We have heard horror stories of "over zealous" SRO's that take any excuse to search students. It is as though they are looking for someone to prosecute. Has something that started out as a good thing, gone too far?
Involuntary transfers should be the absolute last resort, not the first.

Our overall comment to the Superintendent and the School Board is this: Stop hiding behind the excuse of "we are following the Virginia State Code when we recommend first-time student offenders for expulsion." It has been established that Virginia law not only allows school boards to use discretion for special circumstances but can determine what those circumstances are.

Remember what it was like to be a teen. If you were back in high school, did you engage in activity that would subject you to the disciplinary process? And if so, how would you have fared?

Use discretion; have compassion.

Or more famously said: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. "

Helpful Links For the Grief Journey

2011-03-30T08:22:00.000-04:00

A list of helpful links for the journey....

On Coping with Grief

On Grieving

Recover-from-grief.com - a website maintained by a Certified Grief Counselor whose goal is to provide a site that offers a clear, practical plan for dealing with the stresses and uncertainties of grief loss.

Forums/Support

Suicide Grief Support Forum - is a public message board whose mission is to "provide information, support and comfort to anyone whose life has been touched by the suicide of another person."
SiblingSurvivors.com - created to be a "supportive community of people who are survivors of sibling suicide."
Survivors of Suicide.com - purpose of the site is to "help those who have lost a loved one to suicide resolve their grief and pain in their own personal way."

On Suicide

Helpful Books

My List on Josh's Blog (in chronological order of when read)
List by on my Reading Blog (by subject, with rating)
AAS Bibliography
AFSP Bibliography

Pictures From March 2011 Bar Fundraiser for Half Marathon Run

2011-03-26T16:08:00.001-04:00

Today our daughter Lauren and her boyfriend John, ran the SunTrust Half Marathon in Washington DC in memory of our beloved Josh. The bar fundraiser raised almost $3,000 which brings the total in Josh's fund to over $14,000! Many, many thanks to all those who supported the fundraiser, either by your donation at Rumors Bar or by sending in your check. Lauren will be coming home this summer to volunteer a few months of her time to the important task of finding programs that we can support with this money.

Because the timing of this race falls near the anniversary of Josh's death, we plan to continue the tradition. I have already decided to join Lauren next year and will run either the half marathon again or the relay. We hope others will join us.

Below is a slideshow of the event. We are so proud of Lauren and what she is doing to honor her brother's memory.

2 Years Later - March 18, 2011

2011-03-18T21:36:00.002-04:00

Can it be two years already? Has Josh been gone for that long? It doesn't seem so, but time does not lie. It does not slow down either. It keeps moving without pause or break.

And although it has been 24 months or 730 days, Josh's death does not feel that far from me. I've created a space for myself to read and write in his room but sometimes, many times, it is hard to be there. The stuff on his desk stare at me. It is physically painful to see his handwriting. His glasses and sunglasses hang where he last put them. What if I could put them on and see what he saw, that last night two years ago?

Stuff is piled in his closet. Will I find any clues if I meticulously go through everything? I should start but can't find the motivation or energy. So things remain. For how long? Who knows. All I know is that I can't do anything about it now.

We've received a number of checks for Lauren's fundraising run that is happening next weekend along with heartfelt notes. Numerous Facebook messages, emails, cards from friends as well as perfect strangers. All to let us know that they are thinking of Josh and it hits me again - for the umpteenth time - how much our boy is loved and still missed by so many.

The tear ducts have recently been dry but not now. The spigots have turned on after receiving an email from one of Josh's school friends who shared very specific memories of him. Of what he taught her (how to solve a Rubic's cube - I forgot how obsessed he was with that), the last time she saw him which was the day he was suspended and a last text a few days before he died.

Why did he do it? Why did he end it all? Why did he leave everyone who loved him? The unanswerable questions followed by the inward self-grilling and the blanket of guilt continues, even after two long years.

I will end this post with pictures from the day.

Pictures from the cemetery....

A new chime from Josh's grandparents

Making a blanket of red and white rose petals

Beautiful flowers received today...

Slide show of the Wings gathering....Tim and I are so grateful to those who came to be with us....

Wings Gathering - March 18, 2011

2011-03-17T22:07:00.000-04:00

For those who are free and would like to gather to remember Josh while eating some wings, Tim and I will be at the Buffalo Wings Factory in Reston on Friday, March 18th at 7pm.

If we haven't met you yet, but you know our son, please stop by. We would love to meet you and hear your stories.

2nd Annual "Running to Remember Josh" Fundraiser - March 25, 2011

2011-03-09T16:30:00.002-05:00

Dear Friends,

On March 26th, Lauren Anderson and close friends will run the SunTrust National Half Marathon in the honor of Joshua Lee Anderson, who tragically ended his life on March 18, 2009. The Josh Anderson Memorial Fund was created shortly thereafter to support programs for the education and prevention of teenage suicide. Lauren, her mother and two dear friends ran the marathon and half marathon last year on March 20, 2010 in Josh's honor and raised $8,000 towards the Fund! This summer, Lauren will be moving back to the D.C. area to devote time and energy towards the fight against teenage suicide.

A Bar Fundraiser for the Josh Anderson Memorial Fund will take place on March 25, 2011 from 5-7 pm at Rumors bar in D.C.

Feel free to forward on to friends, family, colleagues and classmates as this is an open event to everyone. We hope to see you there!

The Anderson Family

Rumors is located ~2 blocks from Dupont Circle and the Dupont Circle metro. Bracelets will be $10 at the door which will go towards the Fund and drinks will be happy hour prices. Additional donations are accepted.

If you can’t make the event but would still like to donate, checks can be made out to the Great Falls Optimist Club and mailed to 1300 Carpers Farm Way. Vienna, VA 22182.

Coming up to the 2 year....

2011-03-07T20:34:00.000-05:00

It is now March 7th and Josh's 2 year death anniversary is around the corner. After March 18th, we will be living in the third year without him. For some reason, this feels significant. I don't know why. Perhaps it is the same sort of feeling that a cancer victim has after enduring invasive surgery, days of chemotherapy and rounds of radiation. It feels like our family has survived the worst of the unimaginable. Not that we are done, but the worst is over. And now, we are in the process of moving forward with our lives while taking Josh with us.

My fear that his death would be in vain is unfounded. With the tragic death of another young teen who was also subject to the disciplinary process within Fairfax County Public Schools, there is finally some movement to examine the effectiveness of the policy and make wholesale changes.

I also feared that Josh would be forgotten by his friends. Nothing could be further from the truth as evidenced by the numerous birthday messages on his Facebook wall two months ago. Last month, I heard from a mom whose son went to South Lakes HS and played football and lacrosse with our boy. She shared how much Josh is still loved and missed. With their permission, the photo below is a picture of his desk. So we are not the only one who have pictures of Josh around our home.

We love and miss you Josh.
R.I.P. my beloved son,
Love,
Mom

Josh and Nick's Suicides ARE Linked to FCPS ZT Policy: Updated 6/10/2011

2011-03-04T11:00:00.302-05:00

This post has been created in honor of Josh Anderson (3/18/2009) and Nick Stuban (1/20/2011)

Both of these boys should be alive: Josh as a freshman in college and Nick as a high school sophomore. While their offenses were different, the feelings were the same: helplessness, hopelessness and despair due to the punishment given by Fairfax County Public Schools and as a result, both are gone. In their prime of life. And the saddest thing of all is that if treated differently, they would still be here.

Additional thought: Actually, what is so horrific about all of this is that if the policy was reviewed and reformed after Josh's death, then Nick would still be alive. To me, this falls squarely at the feet of the Fairfax County School Board and Superintendent.

There has been much in the media after Nick's death resulting in increased public pressure for the School Board and Superintendent Jack Dale to revise the draconian disciplinary policies. Two members of the Fairfax Board of Supervisors are calling for it. And any parent who has read the moving article by Donna St. George in Sunday's Washington Post (2/20/11) about the Stuban's experience and Nick's suicide should be afraid, angry and get involved in the call for reform. Why? Because the disciplinary policies could ensnare you and your child.

Teens are teens. Despite everything you do to keep your kids on the "straight and narrow"....you know what I mean: the "talks", the warnings, the curfews, the vetting of friends, careful monitoring of sleepovers, dishing out of consequences when rules are broken, all of the things that conscientious parents do, please listen when I say this - when they are in high school, all bets are off.

Josh was not a bad kid. And while I don't believe his words about drug use in high school were entirely true, "Mom, everyone is doing it", it is more prevalent than what I want to think and believe. He was a repeat offender, despite everything we were trying to do, and I realize he will not garner the same sympathy as Nick, but he was not a bad kid. We don't condone what he did but he should not have been made to feel like a criminal. He was guilty of being dumb, stupid and making really bad choices, but he was not a bad kid. He was not a threat to other students in FCPS and as such, he should not have faced expulsion to an alternative school or from the county. He should've have been punished, absolutely. And severely so. But not by removing him from his school, friends, athletic opportunities and support system. We believe this was too harsh. (Read this post for our experience)

Tim is keeping me abreast of the comments on the recent articles. I understand that just as Josh will be judged "guilty as charged", having been caught twice, the same will be for us as his parents. What were we teaching him? How permissive were we? Why couldn't we control our own son so that he would stay away from drugs? At the risk of sounding defensive, and I will only do this once, our other three kids will serve as as our parental "resume".

Tyler (26) graduated from TJ, short for the the nationally renowned Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology. According to the US News and World Report, it is the #1 high school in the country, securing the top spot each of the three years they have ranked schools. He graduated from the Terry College of Business at the University of Georgia, is married and working as an account executive at a telemarketing firm.
Lauren (23) went to Langley HS and after graduating from the top ranked McIntire School of Commerce at the University of Virginia, is now working as a financial analyst at a mid market investment banking firm.
Gillian (20) is also a TJ graduate and is currently a 3rd year student at the University of Virginia, majoring in psychology and minoring in film study.

Everyone in our area knows how difficult it is to get into TJ. And all who live in Virginia know how steep the competition is to receive the coveted UVA acceptance letter as it is the #2 top public university in the country. Parents also know the challenge that college graduates face in securing good jobs in this tough economy. While all the credit goes to our kids for their accomplishments, I believe they would say that parental love and support was paramount to their success.

Why am I sharing more about our family? Only to say this: If it can happen to us and now to the Stuban's, it can happen to anyone. Our hearts go out to Nick's parents. Unfortunately we know the nightmare they are living. Tim and I implore parents to wake up and demand change for the sake of your children....before other lives are irrevocably damaged or heaven forbid, lost.

Below are media links in chronological order. The intent is to have everything on one post for easy reference.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Suicide death of our 17 year old beloved son

Joshua Lee Anderson

Wednesday (3/25/09)

Reston Connection: Saxons, Seahawks Mourn Teammate

Sunday (4/5/09)
Washington Post: Unbending Rules on Drugs in Schools Drive One Teen to the Breaking Point by Marc Fisher

Monday (4/6/09)
Washington Post - Raw Fisher: Zero Tolerance: Cure Can Be Harsher Than Crime by Marc Fisher

The New York Times Parenting Blog: A Zero-Tolerance Policy, and a Suicide by Lisa Belkin

Tuesday (4/14/09)
Washington Post - Raw Fisher: Zero Tolerance: Parents Talk Tough, But Are They Really? by Marc Fisher

Wednesday (4/29/09)
Reston Connection: Seahawks Ready for Postseason Breakthrough by Rich Sanders

Tuesday (10/13/09)
Washington Post - The Answer Sheet blog post: Checking It Out: Zero Tolerance or Zero Sense? by Valerie Strauss

Friday (9/17/10)
Gazette: One Strike, They're Out by Julia O'Donoghue

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Suicide death of 15 year old beloved son

Nicholas L. Stuban

Saturday (1/22/11)
Washington Post: Student Death Stirs Up Fairfax: Disciplinary policies scrutinized after student death in Fairfax. Suicide suspected after suspension and transfer by Donna St. George

Monday (1/24/11)

Fairfax City Patch: Student's Death Opens Old Wounds by Whitney Rhodes

Thursday (1/27/11)
Burke Connections: Mantua Teenager Remembered: Nick Stuban, 15, participated in Woodson football, Boy Scouts by Julia O'Donoghue

Tuesday (2/8/11)
Fairfax County Board of Supervisors (BOS) Resolution: Fairfax County Public Schools Zero Tolerance Policy by Supervisor Catherine M. Hudgins (Hunter Mill District) and Supervisor Penny Gross (Mason District)

Friday (2/11/11)
FCPS Superintendent Jack D. Dale: Statement to Members of the Fairfax County BOS

Washington Post: School Superintendent Jack D. Dale Defended Fairfax County's Discipline Policies by Donna St. George

Reston Patch: Supervisor Hudgins Explains 'Zero Tolerance' Remarks

Reston Patch: Schools Superintendent Blasts Hunter Mill Supervisor by Karen Goff

Tuesday (2/15/11)
Oakton Patch: County, School Officials Spar Over Disciplinary Process' Link to Student Suicides by Whitney Rhodes

Reston Patch Opinion: Gibson: 'Our Students Deserve Better': Hunter Mill School Board rep says county BOS should stay out of zero tolerance debate.

Sunday (2/20/11)
Washington Post: Student's Suspension Furthered His Despair: Suicide turns attention to Fairfax County's discipline procedures by Donna St. George

Washington Post - The Answer Sheet blog post: Why School Zero Tolerance Policies Make No Sense by Valerie Strauss

Monday (2/21/11):
6 page letter from the Rutherford Institute to Superintendent Jack Dale titled Nick Stuban and Fairfax County Public Schools Disciplinary Process

The Rutherford Institute News: Rutherford Institute Denounces Zero Tolerance, Calls On Fairfax School District to Reform Disciplinary Process in Wake of Student Suicide

Washington Post: Family of Fairfax Teen Suicide Victim Wants Changes in School Disciplinary Policies by Donna St. George

Washington Post: A Temperance Movement Springs Up to Combat Fairfax County Schools' Zero Tolerance Policy by Petula Dvorak

Channel 9 News: Father of Suicide Victim Demands Changes in School Policy

Connection: School Discipline: Broken or Perfect? Jack Dale criticizes concerns linking teen suicides to suspensions by Julia O'Donoghue

Tuesday (2/22/11):
Washington Post - The Answer Sheet: Jack Dale's response to Stuban Family Letter

Springfield Connection: Time to Talk about 'Discipline': Schools need to consider the best interests of the student by Mary Kimm

Wednesday (2/23/11):
Oakton Patch: Dale Points to State Zero Tolerance Policies to Explain FCPS Actions by Whitney Rhodes

Fairfax City Patch: Reed Responds to Zero Tolerance Debate (Patricia Reed is the school board member for the Providence District, which includes Woodson HS)

Washington Post: VA Teen's Suicide Prompts MD Review of Disciplinary Policies by Donna St. George

Washington Post Opinon: The Rationale for Strict High School Discipline by David Campbell, teacher at Centreville HS

Washington Post Opinon: No Second Chances at Fairfax Schools by Robert Guerra

Washington Post Editorial: Fairfax County Should Reconsider Its Zero Tolerance School Discipline

Saxon Scope: Is 'Zero Tolerance' Not Enough? by Terra Holderman

Thursday (2/24/11)
Channel 9 news: Fairfax School Officials Defend Discipline Policy

Dignity in Schools: Zero Tolerance, Zero Consideration by Joao Da Silva

abc2news: Virginia teen's death prompts Maryland to review zero tolerance polices

Scrippsnews: School's Rigid Adherence to Rules Proves Fatal by Dan Thomasson

Friday (2/25/11)

Channel 9 News: Parents of Suicide Victim Speak on Camera, Blast School System

myfoxdc: Fairfax County School Policy under Review After Teen Suicide by Audrey Barnes

FCPS News Release: Fairfax County School Board to Review Discipline Topics

Washington Post: Fairfax County School Board To Review Discipline Policies by Donna St. George

Monday (2/28/11)

Washington Post - Two letters to the Editor: Removing Students: Fair or Foul? by Crystal Shin, Charlottesville and Michael Wilcove, Rockville

Washington Examiner: Fairfax Suicide Prompts VA Task Force on School Discipline by Lisa Gartner

Wednesday (3/2/11)
Washington Examiner Local Editorial: 'Zero Tolerance' Policies Do Lasting Damage

Friday (3/4/11)

Washington Post Opinons: What 'Zero Tolerance" Meant For My Son by Sonia Mey-Schmidt

Wednesday (3/9/11)

Washington Examiner Local Editorial: "Zero Tolerance" Policies do Lasting Damage

Thursday (3/10/11) -

Washington Post: Teenage Suspended from Fairfax County over Acne Drug by Donna St. George

McLean Patch Mom's Chat: Disciplinary Process Needs Reform: Don't Crush Our Kid's Dreams

Friday (3/11/11)

Washington Post's The Answer Sheet: 5 Myths About Zero-Tolerance Disciplinary Policies by Valerie Strauss

Vienna Patch: Stubans to Parents: Commit to FCPS Reform

Vienna Patch: FCPS Discipline Reform Group Plans for Monday's School Board Session by Whitney Rhodes

Saturday (3/12/11)
Washington Post: A Temperance Movement Springs Up to Combat Fairfax County Schools' Zero Tolerance Policy by Petula Dvorak

Sunday (3/13/11)
Time Magazine: Zero Tolerance, Zero Sense by Nancy Gibbs

Monday (3/14/11)

Washington Post Local Breaking News Blog: Fairfax Holds Hearings on School Discipline Policies by Donna St. George

Reston Patch: School Board Considers More 'Holistic' Approach to Discipline by Whitney Rhodes

Red Apple Mom Blog post: The "Fear Factor" in FCPS School Discipline

Channel 9 News: Fairfax School Policy Reviewed After Expulsions by Peggy Fox

FCPS School Board Agenda and Topics for all day work session: Review of Student Disciplinary Process

Tuesday (3/15/11)
Washington Post Education: In the Aftermath of Student's Suicide, Fairfax Board Examines Discipline Policies by Donna St. George

Channel 9 News: Virginia Education Leader Wants Reviews for all Disciplined Students by Peggy Fox

Wednesday (3/16/11)
Fairfax Times: School Board Considers Changing its Discipline Policy by Holly Hobbs

Washington Post: Fairfax County School Board to Review Discipline Policies by Donna St. George

Saturday (3/19/11)
Washington Post's Higher Education: Fairfax Schools' Discipline Policies Up for Review: Parents Seek More Leniency by Donna St. George

Sunday (3/20/11)
Reston Patch: Parents Push for Changes to Disciplinary Process by Sherell Williams

Tuesday (3/22/11)
Washington Post: Fairfax Schools Chief Says System is Seeking Ways to Improve Discipline Process by Donna St. George

Fox News: Community Meeting Held to Discuss Fairfax County Schools Disciplinary Process by Wisdom Martin

Wednesday (3/23/11)
WAMU 88.3 DC: Kojo in Your Community: Discipline in the Fairfax County Schools

Fairfax City Patch: Stubans Call Out Involuntary Transfers, Want Discipline Changes Now by Whitney Rhodes and Bobbi Bowman

Radio Without All the Noise: Kojo Explores FCPS Disciplinary Policies with McLean Community by Jonathan Wilson

Thursday (3/24/11)
Falls Church News Press.com: Commentary on March 20th Town Hall Meeting by Penny Gross, Mason District Supervisor of Fairfax Board of Supervisors

Monday (3/28/11)
Washington Post: Fairfax Schools Consider Recording Student Disciplinary Hearings by Donna St. George

Wednesday (3/30/11)
Reston Patch: Dale Recommends Relief for Students Caught with Meds, But What About Others? by Whitney Rhodes

WTOP: 'Zero Tolerance' May be Amended in Fairfax Schools by Hank Silverberg

Fairfax Times: School Board to Address Expulsion, Transfers by Holly Hobbs

Channel 9 News: Fairfax Schools Superintendent Proposes Changes To Discipline Process by Peggy Fox

NBC News: Superintendent Suggests Plan to Improve Discipline in Schools

Fox News: Virginia Task Force Meets with Student's Father to Discuss School Disciplinary Program

Thursday (3/31/11)

Washington Post: Dale Proposes Changes to Fairfax Discipline Process by Donna St. George

Fairfax Times Opinion: A Primer on Fairfax County Public School's Disciplinary Process by David Hirsch, attorney with Fairfax-based law firm

Fairfax Times: School Discipline Process Can Be Improved by Kathy Smith, Chairman of the Fairfax County School Board

March 2011
Child Trends Brief: Multiple Responses, Promising Results: Evidence-Based, Nonpunitive Alternatives to Zero Tolerance by Christopher Boccanfuso, Ph.D and Megan Kuhfeld B.S.

Sunday (4/3/11)
Washington Post Local Opinion: How Fairfax Can Get School Discipline Right by Caroline Hemenway and Janet Otersen, co-founders of FairfaxZeroToleranceReform.org

Monday (4/4/11)
Washington Examiner: Fairfax School Board Weighs Changes to Discipline Policy by Lisa Gartner

Washington Post: Revamp of Fairfax School Discipline Rules Continues by Donna St. George

Fox News: No Changes to Fairfax County Public Schools Discipline Policy by Sherri Ly

Wednesday (4/6/11)
FairfaxCityPatch: Gibson: There Needs To Be Consequences for Drug Offenders in Schools by Karen Goff

Wednesday (4/20/11)
Washington Post: Penalties for Drug Offenses Weigh Heavily on Students by Donna St. George

Tuesday (5/10/11)
Vienna Patch: Madison, Thoreau Principals Open Dialogue on School Discipline by Elizabeth Vandenburg

Channel 9 News: Are School's Zero Tolerance Policies Going Too Far?

Saturday (5/14/11)
Washington Post: Fairfax Discipline Proposals Issued by Donna St. George

Tuesday (5/17/11)
Vienna Patch: School Board Mulls Parental Notification, Access to Hearing Recording in Discipline Work Session by Sherell Williams

Washington Post: Fairfax County School Board Weighs Changes to Discipline Policies by Donna St. George

FairfaxTimes.com: School Board: Discipline Proposal Not Enough by Holly Hobbs

Tuesday (6/7/11)
Vienna Patch: FZTR Hopes School Board's SR&R Vote Isn't Final Call by Whitney Rhodes

Thursday (6/9/11)
Washington Post: Fairfax May Reexamine Forced School Transfers in Discipline Cases by Donna St. George

Channel 9 News (5:00 pm): Parents of Son Who Committed Suicide Rally for Changes by Peggy Fox

Channel 9 News (11:00 pm): Disciplinary Policy Changes Coming To Fairfax County Public Schools

Channel 4 News (11:00 pm): Fairfax Schools Zero Tolerance Policies Nixed by Darcy Spencer

Friday (6/10/11)
Washington Post: Fairfax Scales Back Discipline Policy by Donna St. George

Vienna Patch: School Board Votes to Make Discipline Process More Flexible, Supportive by Naomi Nix

ABC 7 News: Fairfax Parents, Students Glad Over the Change in Discipline Policies by Gail Pennybaker

Saturday (6/11/11)
Vienna Patch: School Board: Discipline Changes Won't End 'Involuntary Transfer' Option by Naomi Nix

23 Months Later - February 18, 2011

2011-02-18T18:00:00.006-05:00

C.S Lewis, celebrated author of beloved books such as The Chronicles of Narnia and Mere Christianity poured out his heart in a journal after the passing of his beloved wife, "H". His honest and gripping thoughts are recorded in a small book called A Grief Observed.

Being a journal writer myself, the foreword by author Madeline L'Engle resonates:

"It is all right to wallow in one's journal; it is a way of getting rid of self-pity and self-indulgence and self-centeredness. What we work out in our journals we don't take out on family and friends. I am grateful to Lewis for the honesty of his journal of grief, because it makes quite clear that the human being is allowed to grieve, that it is normal, it is right to grieve, and the Christian is not denied this natural response to loss."

There are a number of quotes from the book that speak to me. One analogy, however, accurately describes the impact of the devastating loss on a survivor's life. No matter how long it has been since the death. It reinforces what is mentioned in a previous post, that I will NEVER "get over" Josh's death.

"Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing: after he's had his leg off it is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he'll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg. He has 'got over it.' But he will probably have recurring pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be biped again."

Then later he writes:

"Did you know, dear, how much you took away with you when you left? You have stripped me even of my past, even of the things we never shared. I was wrong to say the stump was recovering from the pain of amputation. I was deceived because it has so many ways to hurt me that I discover them only one by one."

At present, I have a prosthetic leg which works pretty well. In fact, so well that people who meet me for the first time would not know that I am an amputee. That I am a mother who has lost a son. I function at at a high level on my job, teach three aerobics classes a week, am interested in renewing previously enjoyed experiences like skiing, am planning a trip to New Zealand with Lauren to visit Gillian while there for a study abroad program, and for all intensive purposes, to someone on the outside, I have recovered.

But that is a facade. You see, the chopping off of my leg was so violent, like the horrible scenes from Civil War movies when the poor solidiers had no anesthesia when faced with the ax; that to recover completely from this deep wound or trauma may never happen. I am lucky, I suppose that there has been no complications from the amputation. No insomnia or nightmares. No anxiety or depression. No suicidal thoughts of my own. But there is fear. That something will happen to one of my three surviving children. That as a mother, I might suffer more.

(See post on my reading blog for more.)

Motive for Suicide - Not Wanting to be a Burden?

2011-02-13T22:44:00.013-05:00

It is almost 2 years since Josh's decision to leave us - can it be that long already? It doesn't seem possible. I've picked up some survivor of suicide books to re-read; ones with chapters that addressed feelings farther down the grief journey than where I was at that time of the initial reading.

One book, Take the Dimness of My Soul Away: healing after a loved one's suicide, by William Ritter is a series of sermons that the author gave at different points after his son's death. In the last one, given nine years later, he recounts his feelings upon reviewing the film The Hours for a church event. Having never seen the movie, it is now in my Netflix queue. The subject matter is suicide. And how the reason that one of the characters takes her life is that she doesn't want to continue to "spoil" her husband's life any longer. He then recounts how several have come to him as their pastor with the same motive for their own suicidal thoughts:

"...one of the things that always surfaces is their belief that, in choosing death, they will be doing the world a favor....their family a favor...their friends a favor. Sometimes they will be quite specific about the ways in which their departure will make someone else's life easier. Those remaining will now have more time, more money, less worry, or less fury. They really believe that. Because if they didn't, they couldn't end their lives. Or wouldn't."

Did Josh feel this way? I have to believe he did. Because at this time of his death, due to a very stupid mistake, he was facing unbearable consequences which not only affected him, but us as well. And I think the mountain of guilt, anxiety, fear and frustration was too much. He was disappointed in himself and knew we were as well. What I feel guilty about now, almost two years later is that I am not sure that we made it crystal clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it is was the action we were disappointed in, and not him. He as a person. His being.

Why am I thinking of this now? Because Jack Dale, the Superintendent of Fairfax County Public Schools in a response to the Board of Supervisors has effectively said that FCPS does not have a Zero Tolerance policy and that linking Josh's death to the disciplinary process "for the purpose of furthering a falsehood is unconscionable and a blow to those who have already suffered great pain and loss."

Tim and I could not believe this. How can he say there is no Zero Tolerance policy in FCPS? How dare he say this! And who is he to talk about a "blow to those who have already suffered great pain and loss"? Is he talking about us? How would he know? Since that awful day, when the Hearing Office knew we were not coming because Josh had killed himself, we have heard nothing. There was no phone call or letter of condolence Silence. Nothing from the Superintendent's office or any other office at FCPS. Nothing from our elected School Board member either. This to us, is "unconscionable". I suppose they thought it would be an admission of guilt and were afraid of opening themselves up to liability and litigation, which was the furthest thing on our mind at the time.

I believe they are linked. How can I not think that when our son took his life the day before our second time to the Hearing Office? I have re-read our experience with that office, posted within a week after his death and there is absolutely nothing I would change. It is what happened. And our questions remain the same.

There is a parent advocacy group that is asking questions and wants reform. For our kids...every one of them. I have read the comments on the recent Post article about this topic and while many understand this policy is hurting rather than helping our kids, there are others who don't. Who find this to be another example of parents not accepting full responsibility for their own and/or their kids' actions; instead, pointing the finger elsewhere. The honest truth is that "pre-Josh", I probably would have agreed. Until it happened to us. Until our son was caught up in the horrible, humiliating, degrading suspension/expulsion process. Where he was considered guilty from the get-go. There was no due process and nothing remotely fair or compassionate about it. (Other comments about the Superintendent's response on TOP radio and on the RedAppleMom blog.)

What is "unconscionable" is that Superintendent Dale is not taking the steps to review this policy, whatever he chooses to call it, to determine if it is working. Is it helping our kids? It is also "unconscionable" that FCPS, despite repeated requests by parents for statistics regarding this policy, refuses to release what should be public information.

Back to the book.....

What does this pastor say to those who confess their desire to leave?

I do not tell them I know what "wanting to leave" feels like. But I do tell them I know what it feels like to be left. That my life hasn't been better since Bill left. That it's been worse. For a long time....worse. Years of worse. Then I say, "Look, I can't promise that things are going to turn around for you, turn up for you, or get better for you. I think they are. But if you can't see that, I can't force you to wear my glasses. All I can say to you is this: When you reach the point where you can't come up with a single reason to stay alive one more day, then stay alive as a gift to somebody. Maybe you'll tell them. Probably you won't. But if you stay alive as a gift for one day, you may just be able to stay alive for two days. Then who knows, maybe you can go for three."

I wish Josh could've heard these words. Maybe it would have gotten him through that dark, dark night when he only saw one way out.

"Will To Live"

2011-02-12T01:27:00.004-05:00

I don't know if it is just me, but every week, I hear or read about a heartbreaking story of another teen suicide. I don't remember hearing very much "pre-Josh." Were these tragedies always around, but I wasn't aware? Did I see articles in the paper and just skim over them, thinking foolishly, "this does not apply to me?"

This week, a family member sent Tim this link to a Boston Globe article about an ex-Red Sox player who is a "member of the saddest club on earth." John Trautwein's son Will, age 15, took his life last October. He sounds a lot like Josh,...he "had so many friends and he was big and strong and good-looking and popular." And then the haunting words from the dad, "We really don't know." What is left unsaid - the loudest word to parents like us: WHY?

They have started a foundation in his name called the Will To Live Foundation. It is focused on getting "kids, teenagers and young adults involved in the fight against suicide." The family's vision statement ends with this: "Quite simple, this community, your community cannot stand any more empty rooms! Help us help out kids find the Will to Live and prevent teen suicide together!"

I agree with this approach. In fact, my daughter and I have been talking about how best to use the money that has been raised in Josh's fund. We have about $12,000 and while I feel guilty that it has not been deployed as yet, to find the right place has not been easy. For we want Josh's fund to support local, school-based programs that provide awareness, education and prevention of teen suicide and it does not seem like Fairfax County Public Schools has programs of this nature. As I wrote about in a previous post, many kids do not or will not talk to anyone about their problems. This means, they are their own last line of defense. In order to successfully fight the rising trend of teen suicide, we must get in front of the kids.

Because of another tragic suicide in our area, it may be that the Superintendent of Schools, Jack Dale is ready to acknowledge the issue and stand behind programs that would raise awareness of teen depression/suicide. While he attempts to deny that FCPS has a Zero Tolerance Policy in this recent Statement to the Fairfax County Board of Supervisors, and calls the linking of Josh's and Nick's death to the county's disciplinary processes "unconscionable" (I can't even go there right now), at least he seems ready to tackle what we would like to see - programs that address the mental well-being of our youth. (Update: article about this statement in today's Washington Post.)

I am inspired by what Will's parents are doing and agree with their words, "If we save just one life, then Will's (or Josh's) legacy is forever."

Grief Journey to Reading Journey - Chronicled in a New Blog

2011-02-04T21:05:00.005-05:00

Since Josh took his life on March 18, 2009, I have been on a grief journey that is chronicled in this blog. Curiously, this has given rise to another journey which a new blog will cover - a reading journey.

I have always loved a good book. My definition was pretty specific. It had to be a fast read, a real page-turner. Moving plot, engrossing story, believable characters. Mystery, suspense, drama, romance, spy, thrillers - as long as the story moved quickly, I was happy to read it.

My reading was strictly for pleasure. I wanted books that took me to another place. I read quickly and skim the "boring" parts. A very impatient reader. Not appreciative of well constructed sentences or paragraphs. I only wanted to read that which moved the plot forward. Everything else was superfilous and unnecessary.

My habit was to read at night before going to sleep. The problem with this, however, is that I retained very little of what I read. So much so, that within a couple of days of finishing a book, I could not tell you the names of the characters or the basic plot. In one ear and out the other. But that was okay since it was all for pleasure anyway.

Then came my personal 9/11. The day I found our youngest of four, our seventeen-year old son, dead.

Since that day, reading was no longer just for pleasure. It became necessary for my survival. I looked for books that helped me cope with his death. This has taken me to new genres - ones I would never have looked at "pre-Josh".

survivor of suicide books
how to journal books
parental bereavement books
on suicide
memoirs

From writing in a personal journal and on a public blog, I see the impact of words. I have a greater appreciation and respect for authors who can evoke feelings and emotions in a few short sentences. Who can use words to describe scenes so clearly that as a reader, you feel like you are there.

I was a Biology major. And having despised high school English, I took one English class in college - and only because it was required. As a result, I have not read many of the classics. Regretfully, the breadth of my reading is narrow.

Now, I am ready for a change. I want to expand my reading horizon, by using lists like 1,001 Books to Read Before You Die. I want to be a more thoughtful and discerning reader. I want to become a better writer and the best way to do this, is to read.

We are nearing the 2 year mark since Josh has left our family. My reading and writing have been a life preserver - I could not have survived without them. I am actually excited about what adventures await me in books and look forward to chronicling them in the new blog.

My Journal, My Friend

2011-01-30T11:00:00.010-05:00

It is no exaggeration when I say that journal writing has saved me. For it is where, day or night, I can pour out my heart without inhibition or censorship. It is a place of safety and freedom where openness and honesty are paramount. What I truly think and feel, the "real" me, resides in its bosom. The good, bad and ugly.

The pages welcome my pen. They do not judge. They seek not to fix. I am completely understood so clarification or re-explanation is unnecessary. Sometimes it is a purging; my hand cannot write fast enough. Other times, my thoughts are flitting and incoherent so cannot be snagged and immortalized on paper. Many times, I journal about quotes from my reading that help solidify an unconscious thought, feeling or question. Many such as the previous post or, this one, have ended up here.

As a mother, I have the horrible and nightmarish task of processing the suicide death of my 17-year old son, my baby. Much lies underneath, in my sub and unconscious mind. My journal is a place to face what is there with the faith that I'll only "see" what can be handled. Many times, it is convoluted and strange. Other times, it is just repetitive, like "why did he do it?" Who know how many times I have written those words. Or it is ever evolving. Random thoughts today may be solidified or revised tomorrow.

Regardless, in these pages, I can think through, ponder, and ruminate on my "stuff", which over time, is helping me to process Josh's death and the devastating impact to my heart, soul, mind and psyche.

Two helpful books are 1) Creative Journal Writing: the Art and Heart of Reflection by Stephanie Dowrick and 2) The New Diary: How to Use a Journal for Self-Guidance and Expanded Creativity by Tristine Rainer. Some of my favorites quotes in Dowrick's book:

"I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart." Anne Frank

"We do not write to be understood; we write in order to understand." Cecil Day-Lewis

"Truly, it is in the darkness that one finds light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us." Meister Echkart

Rainer writes how a diarist, Anais Nin "used the diary not to escape from life but to live it more fully and deeply." A number of journal writing books and memoirs have referenced "The Diary of Anais Nin" which is actually seven volumes. I was lucky enough to find six at a used bookstore over the summer. I'm currently reading through Volume I and the most meaningful quotes are below:

"I have been trying to be honest, day by day, in the diary."

"The diary began as a diary of a journey, to record everything for my father. It was also to be an island, in which, I could take refuge in an alien land, write French, think my thoughts, hold on to my soul, to myself."

It is "the only steadfast friend I have, the only one which makes my life bearable; because my happiness with human beings is so precarious, my confiding moods rare, and the least sign of non-interest is enough to silence me. In the journal I am at ease."

Since Josh's death, less than 2 years ago, I have filled up four books and am working on my fifth. The fourth, and only book that I plan to use going forward has blank pages. Uncertain about it at first, I now love the freedom to write, diagram, draw arrows, box, illustrate, list, color - anything I want within the pages. The best news is that I found Piccadilly large notebooks that are the perfect size and price at Borders - for $5.99. Whenever I see them, I stock up.

Writing utensils are important too, so say other books. I agree now that I've found the perfect "journal-writing" pen, the Varsity disposable fountain pen by Pilot. They are a bit pricey at $3.29 each but are worth it.

Is anyone else writing in a journal? Are there things that have helped you?

Another Suicide in Fairfax County - Similar to Josh

2011-01-24T22:27:00.004-05:00

Yesterday, this article appeared in the Washington Post. My heart sank as I read the words, "The apparent suicide of a 15 -year-old high school football player in Fairfax County has sparked concerns about the school district's disciplinary policies, which critics say are overly punitive and often debilitating for students." Oh no, not another kid! Not another family! Not another mother! Poor, poor mother.

The article says he is an only child. My heart breaks even more. Her son will be buried with his football shirt #45. Josh was buried in his #33 South Lakes jersey - the one he is wearing in the picture on the right side of this blog.

As I as reading through the article, I was steeling myself for it. For when his death would be mentioned. It was at the end. "Noting the 2009 death of Josh Anderson, 17, who committed suicide as he awaited hearing on a second marijuana offense: One death was enough. Not a second one."

I didn't cry when I read this article. I just felt numb and empty. And very, very sad - knowing the pain facing his parents - now and in the months to come. No, the tears did not come until hours later; after doing the laundry, going to the grocery store, working on a new blog for myself, a reading blog; after trying to sleep and not being able to, finally getting up to write in my journal - that is when it hit me. Note: my thoughts below are raw and uncensored; right from my journal.

The poor family. His poor friends. Another kid - dead. I don't know what to write or how I feel. Why? I should be feeling a lot with this but just numb. Blank. Why has my handwriting shrunk all of a sudden? While I am writing this? My mind and heart are blank. School officials are not saying much or what they say is status quo. I HATE FCPS AND THEIR POLICIES. That kill - literally - kill or if not kill, they maim and destroy our children. Teens who are not bad and evil - they're just dumb. They are guilty of being dumb. Doing stupid things. Thinking they will not get caught. They don't connect behavior and consequences. Impulsive.

I guess this is what I really feel - that if we didn't live here, would Josh still be alive? That in my heart of hearts, I place a lot of blame on the Zero Tolerance Policy - which subjected our son to a humiliating, degrading interrogation by cold-hearted School Board Hearing Officers. So horrible that he could not face it again. Then I turn to myself. I BLAME MYSELF. That I did not see his inner turmoil. That I didn't help him cope. That I wasn't there for him in the way that he needed. That if someone else were his mother, maybe he would be alive. I feel complicit with his death. That my good wasn't good enough. I am so sorry Josh. I am so, so sorry.

I couldn't write my usual letter to him today - maybe this is why. I didn't make the effort to visit him today - maybe this is why. I couldn't sleep - maybe this is why. This is really what is going on - MAJOR GUILT. And now that I've allowed my conscious mind to see and feel it - it is smothering me.

I am guilty.

I am not the mother he needed.

I was not enough for him.

I am the reason he is dead.

It was 2 am when I wrote these words. The empty kitchen was witness to my refreshed grief. And even when the words flew from pen to paper, I thought, "It is 2am. You are tired, emotional and not thinking straight. Better go to bed." And I did. For some reason, it is cathartic to purge myself of all crazy thoughts and feelings onto empty pages that don't speak back, try to reason with me and say that I am talking rubbish. No, my journal pages just take it. I went to bed feeling empty, drained and exhausted.

Woke up thinking about the last sentence I wrote the night before. Do I really think I am the reason he is dead? No, of course not. In fact, if I were awake that fateful night, I would have tried to physically restrain him from his fatal action. He would've had to knock me out to continue with his plans.

So I understand that he did this to himself. But I do feel, in the depths of my soul, a guilt that cannot be shaken or reasoned away. I remember reading something early on that struck me, but I found it hard to relate to. Not any more. In the book, My Son, My Son: A Guide to Healing After Death, Loss and Suicide, Iris Bolton writes about guilt:

Guilt is perhaps the most punishing stage of all. I remember that first day sitting on my bed saying over and over, "What have I done wrong? If only I had done more." My senses told me that I'd failed as a parent, failed myself, failed my son. The word I used to describe my condition was foul. Irrationally I thought I must indeed be foul for my son to prefer death to living with me and our family. Guilt hits hard and flits in and out of other moods.

I am lacking as a parent. Or more specifically, as Josh's mother. And I don't write this to solicit vehement comments to the contrary. Everyone has a cross to bear and I think this is mine. I can't absolve myself of this guilt. For how could I not be found guilty when my own son chose to take his life?

Suicide of a child means enormous guilt for the mother. Any child. Any mother. Cause and effect. One leads to the other. It is what a mother unwittingly signs up for, once she has given birth to her baby. Or first holds an adopted child in her arms. It is a tragedy that you can never be prepared for, never expect to be part of your family history. So when the nightmare occurs, when it really happens to you, the waves of shock and disbelief eventually gives way to guilt. A guilt so large, it defies measurement.

Tim sent me a link to another article in the FairfaxCityPatch called "Student's Death Opens Old Wounds." The "old wounds" refers to Josh's death. This will never be an "old" wound for me.

22 Months Later - January 18, 2011

2011-01-18T17:21:00.022-05:00

A dear friend recently lost her father and I sent her a sympathy card with this saying:

"To remember is another way to love"

I have seen evidence recently of how much Josh is loved and continues to be - even almost 2 years later. Two days ago, there were almost 100 posts on his Facebook wall from friends wishing him "Happy Birthday" and sharing how much they loved and missed him. And not only on his birthday, but on high school graduation day, before going to college, during the holidays - friends posted throughout the year.

The tear spigots turn on as I read these posts - so sincere, so poignant, so genuine. I am moved by how his friends, despite everything going on in their lives, have not forgotten him. The uninhibitedness with which they express their love - this from both guys and girls. How could he not see how much he was loved? How many would be affected by his death?

The book, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, is a moving memoir by Maya Angelou, who describes her life as a young black girl trying to understand why she is judged by her skin color when she feels as human as any white person. These words are towards the end of the book, when she speaks of the "coming of age" process. It really struck me.

To be left alone on the tightrope of youthful unknowing is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom and the threat of eternal indecision. Few, if any survive their teens. Most surrender to the vague but murderous pressure of adult conformity. It becomes easier to die and avoid conflicts than to maintain a constant battle with the superior forces of maturity.

I wrote in my journal:

For some reason, this rings true of Josh. Describes the vulnerable teen. What our young people face. Pressures from within, from their peers, from adults - parents, grandparents, teachers, coaches. Are there some kids, whose internal make-up need more time to mature and develop before asked to navigate the space between adolescence and adulthood?

Are there some kids, so adverse to conflict, that they would literally rather die?

We wanted Josh to grow up, be mature, be responsible, act his age. "Forty years ago," I'd say, "kids your age were going off to war with guns in their hands. Can you just PLEASE think about the consequences of your behavior before doing something really dumb?"

Our expectations obviously did not help him cope with life. Didn't help him with finding an alternative to suicide. Did we expect too much? More than he was emotionally ready for? It is a difficult question because we think, at times, that since he was the youngest and the baby of the family that we did too much. Maybe didn't allow his character to be tested enough. I vacillate back and forth - did we expect too much of him or not enough? Were we too strong or not strong enough? Did we push him too much or not enough?

I find myself on a mental merry-go-round with these thoughts. None of which will change the situation - the fact that he is gone. So it is futile, I know, but my mind doesn't want to let it go. It is a form of "guilt jail" built for myself so that no matter where I turn, as his mother, I am responsible. I was not good enough. I did not give him what he needed. I did not notice his fatal frame of mind. I missed something. I did not do enough or I did too much. I did not say enough, or I said too much.

Many times I tell myself, "You did the best you could," and sometimes, I believe it. But not always. And back in the "grief jail" I go - even twenty-two months later.

Happy Birthday Josh - January 16, 2011

2011-01-16T14:24:00.020-05:00

Josh would be 19 years old today...if he were alive. These months are harder than usual because they make up a "season of grief", as one of my books calls it. This happens when your deceased child's birthday and death anniversary fall within a three month period of time. Add in Christmas and New Years and it is a triple header.

I was going to Josh's grave site today to place "Happy Birthday" balloons, lost in thought while listening to an audiobook, and was jolted to reality by the harsh, loud sounds of an ambulance and fire truck racing by. They turned into a subdivision and I was immediately brought back to the day that Josh died. I had called Tim, hysterical, after finding Josh. He called 911 and before I knew it, sirens were screaming down our street and stopping in front of our home. Paramedics came racing up the stairs and shooed me out of his room. I remember looking out the front window, seeing the red trucks and thinking, "I can't believe this is happening to us."

Today, as I watched the trucks enter the neighborhood, I thought of the poor soul in need of help and hoped that it was not too late. Then I thought of those paramedics who have answered other 911 calls last year and found teenagers, just like Josh, dead by their own hand. How many have there been in our area? How are the parents and families coping? How do the paramedics handle seeing such tragedy?

As time marches me towards the 2-year death anniversary on March 18th, like a conveyer belt that I cannot escape from, I think about my "grief journey". Words flow through my mind that describe the terrible work needed to come to grips with the loss of my beloved boy. Words like:

assimilate
integrate
incorporate
comprehend
take in
reconcile
come to terms with
adjust to
accept
resign
submit to

The magnitude of losing a child is so great, that the reality can only be faced in small doses. Only as much as a mother's breaking heart can bear. There is a frailty and fragility to my soul now - despite what may be seen from the outside. Painfully aware that our family is not immune to tragedy, my greatest fear is if something happened to one of our other three children. I tell God that I could not survive it and beg Him to please spare them. "If one must go," I say, "take me."

Today was cold and blustery at the cemetery with the wind cutting through my jeans and gloves. "Partly sunny, partly cloudy," the weatherman would say. The ringing chimes in the trees reminded me of church bells. While securing the balloons to the vase, I noticed two items placed in the hole that holds his vase. I didn't recognize them as Josh's but they very well could be. I don't know who has done this or the significance of the items, but am happy that others visit him, just as I do.

Happy 19th Birthday Josh. We love and miss you. R.I.P.

Love,

Dad and Mom

The Death of a Friend

2011-01-07T19:02:00.015-05:00

I was baking cookies the other night when a friend's call informed me of the sudden death of another dear, gracious, sweet friend. A few weeks ago, I had learned that she had been diagnosed with cancer and was awaiting test results and prognosis. I don't think anyone thought her death would be this sudden. I mistakenly thought there would be time to reconnect as we had not been in touch since Josh's death.

My friend has lived a long life - full of love. Love from husband, children, grandchildren and friends. She lived life to the full and with great gusto. She traveled extensively - listening to her itineraries would leave me exhausted! I can't imagine her having any regrets except that she's left her loved ones without warning.

My journal has become my confident. I write what I am thinking and feeling - just to get things out. This is what I wrote on hearing of her passing:

She has passed away! I can't believe she is gone! So fast! Her poor family: husband, daughter and sons. How tragic to be so sudden but maybe she was spared tremendous suffering. Maybe this is God's mercy. Poor, poor family! I hope she is able to be with Josh. It comforts me to think they may be together.

I am no stranger to death now. To what it means - the catastrophic impact to your family and to what you know to be true, real or tangible. How thin the line is between life and death - literally seconds or a few minutes. One minute - alive. The other minute - gone. And so final, irreversible, undo-overable. Cannot take it back. Cannot push replay. This is what is so difficult about death - the fact that it is FINAL. Cannot change. Powerless. Neither fame, earthly power or money can undo death.

When enough happens to shut down critical bodily functions, whether by illness, accident, old age or violence, and the line is crossed, death has arrived. Life has gone. Evidence of life is gone - no breathing, no movement, no pulse, no reaction, no response. A stiffness - so unnatural to see a body with no life. Empty. A shell. No energy. Nothing happening on a micro or macro level. Quiet. Still. Gone. Absent. And eventually taken out in a black body bag, put on a gurney and into a waiting van for a final trip to the morgue.

And that was the last time I saw and touched my beloved Josh.

It will be two years in March, and I can still vividly remember the morning I found him. I try not to think about it very much but occasionally I do. It is like a bad dream, except I know it is not. It happened. And when I go and make my weekly visit to his grave site tomorrow and see the stone with his name, date of birth and date of death, I will know, once again, that this is my reality.

God Bless

New Year's Eve - December 31, 2010

2010-12-31T23:45:00.007-05:00

Reflecting on 2010, the images that flash through my mind center around Josh:

celebrating his 18th birthday on Jan 16th
the 1 year death anniversary on March 18th
half/full marathon fundraiser on March 20th

Then I think of what should be memories but are not:

high school graduation
going to college

And what he has missed out on:

kayaking on the Battenkill River in Vermont during a torrential downpour
watching Avatar in 3-D on an IMAX screen
learning how to ski

It is strange that I find his absence exponentially more profound than his presence. While alive, he just was. The baby of the family, always there, tagging along, interspersing our family conversations with his wiseguy comments or observations. Low-maintenance except in the mornings when it would take way too much energy to get him up and going. Otherwise, a quiet boy, easy going and willing to go along with anything.
I am glad for all the memories with family and friends in 2010 but as a mother, there is a corresponding emptiness that exists because Josh is not part of them. And he is not part of them because he is no longer with us. And he is no longer with us because he took his life. It is like a funnel - eventually all thoughts lead to that fact. Then comes the grief and sadness. It is inescapable.
I've had some strange dreams lately. Last night, I dreamt that I was at a memorial for Josh that was organized by a good friend. While presenting a gift to me, she began crying which made me cry. This happened right before the alarm went off so I woke up to tears on my face. Missing Josh. Tears while awake. Tears while asleep. Endless supply of tears - for Josh.
I was with my family for New Year's Eve. My mom bought clear balloons with silver snowflakes and after writing messages on them, we sent them up to the sky as a way of remembering our beloved son, grandson and nephew.

Rest in peace, Josh. We love and miss you so much.

God Bless

Merry Christmas Josh - December 25, 2010

2010-12-25T14:45:00.005-05:00

Christmas letter to my deceased son....

Good morning Josh - Merry Christmas! We are here with family and I can't help thinking about where you'd be or what you'd be doing if here. Would you be sleeping on the window seat in your Big Boppa's office or with Tyler and Emily in the other home? And at dinner last night, would you have been at the TV tray or at the table because you are bigger?

Gillian got out the stockings to bring with us. I can't remember yours - I wish I could. Your picture is on the tree - so sad. But I am glad it is there.

I'm sorry you are not here with us.
I am sorry I wasn't there for you.
I am sorry that I didn't do enough for you.
I am sorry that your solution was self-destruction.

I miss you.
I love you.

Mom xxoo

God Bless

21 Months Later - 12/18/2010

2010-12-18T13:15:00.009-05:00

Today is December 18th, twenty-one months after Josh's passing and one week until Christmas. Since we are traveling for the holidays, there is no tree. Only two wreaths on the door and a single candle in Josh's bedroom window - in memory of his life.

I have, however, decorated Josh's grave site with a wreath and his tree with ornaments and red bows.

I want to close this post with a poem I found which is about how a grieving person comes to choose life.

The Thing Is by Ellen Bass

The thing is.....

to love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you've held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you take life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.

God Bless

New definitions: Impulsiveness and Sadness

2010-12-04T15:12:00.033-05:00

In mid October, our local library held their annual used book sale. Hardback books were $2 and almost all paperbacks were 50 cents. Very dangerous for someone whose love of books and desire to read has been rekindled in the wake of Josh's death. I came home with two big shopping bags of books and spent less than $25.

In most of the books I've read, "post-Josh", regardless of genre, storyline or author, something hits me. The Reader, by Bernhard Schlink was no exception. In it, I have a new way of looking at impulsiveness and sadness.

Written in the first person, the protagonist, Michael Berg looks back to a life changing event, and cannot determine why he acted the way he did.

I don't know why I did it. Often enough in my life I have done things I had not decided to do. Something - whatever that may be - goes into action; "it" goes to the woman I don't want to see anymore, "it" makes the remark to the boss that costs me my head, "it" keeps on smoking although I have decided to quit, and then quits smoking just when I've accepted the fact that I'm a smoker and always will be. I don't mean to say that thinking and reaching decisions have no influence on behavior. But behavior does not merely enact whatever has already been thought through and decided. It has its own sources, and is my behavior, quite independently, just as my thoughts are my thoughts, and my decisions my decisions (my emphasis).

Those of us with children have asked the question, "why did you do it?" many times and have heard the somewhat annoying answer, "I don't know". The quote above describes this common phenomenon and puts forth the idea that behavior is not always linked to thought or decisions and in fact, can be it's own entity and completely independent. A scary thought. Penned in the margin of my book is "definition of impulsiveness?" for isn't that what it means? That sometimes we do or say something without thinking or making a rational, conscious decision and afterwards, think, "why did I just do (or say) that?" But by then, it's too late. The deed is done.

Is this what happened to Josh that dark night? An impulsive act that was not grounded in thought and conscious decision? Behavior that ran amuck and did "it's" own thing, resulting in the most horrific consequence - his death? Now it is my turn to say, "I don't know."

In another chapter, Michael looks back to a happy time of his life, but because of events that happened since, rather then feeling happy in his memories, he only feels profound sadness.

Why? Why does what was beautiful suddenly shatter in hindsight because it concealed dark truths? Why does the memory of years of happy marriage turn to gall when our partner is revealed to have had a lover all those years? Because such a situation makes it impossible to be happy? But we were happy! Sometimes the memory of happiness cannot stay true because it ended unhappily.....Is this what sadness is all about? Is it what comes over us when beautiful memories shatter in hindsight because the remembered happiness fed not just on actual circumstances but on a promise that was not kept?

I wrote in the book margin: "promise of an intact family" for this was taken away in the never-to-be-forgotten moment when I found Josh's body.

My journal entry: "My memories have been re-ignited with the photo scanning project. All significant days in Josh's short life have been recorded and seeing them again, re-living the events has only heightened the pain. But I don't regret the project. I want to remember. These memories now serve to keep him alive. It doesn't make me "happy" and so I agree with this quote. Some well-meaning people have said things like, "just think of the good times" or "hold onto the good memories" as a way to get past the pain and grief, but it doesn't work, at least for me. There might be a time, in the far distant future, when my memories of Josh will bring joy. Right now, that is not the case. They only serve to remind me of the unkept promise.

God Bless

Thanksgiving 2010

2010-11-26T15:56:00.020-05:00

Our second Thanksgiving without Josh has passed. Incrementally easier than last year. Lauren and Gillian came home so along with my parents and brother, there were seven of us at the table. A week ago I confessed to Tim that having no motivation to shop and cook, I'd rather order a turkey and ham meal from Safeway. He promised help from himself and the girls and so we did sit down to a home-cooked meal, one of the tastiest. Not over cooking the turkey and taking the extra step to make stuffing from scratch were the keys. As we were eating I did, of course, think of Josh along with his older brother who could not be with us and how they both would've had several helpings of the stuffing, one of their favorite sides.

As the day approached, I tried to think back to the last Thanksgiving we had with Josh, in 2008. Unfortunately, I don't remember that much, just snippets, probably because we did not do anything that memorable. Now I know that whenever family gathers, we should take advantage of the time to build new memories. And so yesterday, after being stuffed with drink, food and desserts, we cleared the table and played Taboo and Euchre. Then joined thousands of other crazy people who went to Tysons Mall at midnight. Definitely a memorable experience - through probably not one to repeat next year.

My journal has become a place of self-exortation.

Sue - look at it (Thanksgiving) differently. It is the being together that is most important. The food, etc will get done. Just be happy that family (sans Josh) will be together. Make new memories. Be in the moment. Share love. Give love. Don't be focused on the "to do's". Be focused on family. Be engaged. Be thankful that we will be together.

"Post Josh", I do have a greater awareness that any holiday could be the last. On the one hand I admit that this is a morbid and depressing thought. But had I been more aware in 08, there would be more vivid memories of the last Thanksgiving with our beloved Josh. I want to avoid having this type of regret in the future.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful Thanksgiving with family and friends.

God Bless

20 Months - November 18, 2010

2010-11-18T07:00:00.009-05:00

Time is flying by - how can it be 20 months since Josh has died? It still is unbelievable to me and the same questions swirl in my head. How can this be? What happened? Why him? Why our family? Why didn't he say something? What could I have done?

My post today comes from a journal that I bring when visiting Josh. In it, I write letters to him. The one I am sharing comes from two days after my birthday, which was a sad and emotional day.

Dear Josh,
It is sunny and warm in the sun. I have made the usual run to Safeway. I like the sunflowers as they last over a week. The ones from two weeks ago are done - many of the petals have fallen off. The rest I have put on the grass - bright yellow petals marking where you lay - your final resting place.

The wind brushes across my cheeks and lifts the pages as I write. Chimes sing softly, harmonizing with each other above the drone of mowers in distant parts. Brittle leaves rustle in the wind, making their own distinctive sound. Their last stand before falling to the ground in days to come. It is a different sound than in spring or summer, at the height and fullness of life. I look up and see one leaf loosen its hold and with the wind, fall gently to the ground, scattering haphazardly on the grave sites below. A leaf would have to travel a good distance to land on your site.

It is quite and peaceful here. On the one hand, it is what I prefer. On the other, I wonder where are the living of all the dead around you? I guess over time, visits cease. Will I be able to stop coming? Right now, it is routine. I don't even think while driving - the car knows where to go.

It's been a rough couple of days, Josh. Started on my birthday. I wrote in my journal and all I could think about was the fact that you weren't here. The impact of this horrible reality hit me anew - too much, too sad. I don't want to be getting older, "celebrating" another year of life while you are dead. It hits me again how unnatural it is that you have predeceased me! Never expected! Never imagined!

Yesterday was hard too. I worked on the Halloween slide show for the blog and seeing all the pictures of you, so cute and adorable, with family and friends. Seemingly happy. You did have a happy childhood, didn't you? While working on this, I got sadder and sadder. I could feel my heart breaking inside and it became hard to breathe. Grief is so painful, Josh. It physically hurts.

At 17, your life is done. It makes me so mad I want to hit something, over and over. But there is nothing I can do. No remedy. No fixing. No going back. You've done something to yourself and ultimately to our family that is irreversible. I don't think you knew because if you did, how could you go through with it? No, I have to think that it was extremely impulsive and you were not yourself. I wish you did something that would've indicated your state of mind without being fatal.

Death is final Josh!
Silly boy.
But loved and missed by me and EVERYONE.

Love,
Mom

God Bless

Halloween Pics

2010-10-31T11:00:00.003-04:00

A slide show of Halloween pictures of Josh with family and friends.

I would give anything to turn back time and have my Josh back home.

God Bless

19 Months Later - October 18, 2010

2010-10-18T08:00:00.003-04:00

I have just started reading two books: Beyond Tears: Living After Losing a Child by Ellen Mitchell and When the Bough Breaks: Forever After the Death of a Son or Daughter by Judith Bernstein.

The book by Mitchell compiles thoughts and quotes from nine women who have lost their children; the youngest was 16 years old and the oldest was 28. Bernstein lost her 26 year old son in 1987 to cancer. She did not find the kind of support books that exist today so she set out to write one - interviewing 55 people who had lost a child at least 3 years old and had been gone at least 5 years at the time of the interview.

It helps me to read these books - like dropping in on a support group at will. If there is a story that does not help, I can skip it. If it is too much, the book is put down for a later date. If something hits home, I can underline, highlight, dog-ear the page and write in my journal until thoughts and feelings are analyzed and exhausted.

It helps but it is not easy. As Bernstein says:

No one ever taught us how to mourn, how to deal with the intense emotions, the isolation, the chaotic thoughts, the dizzying ups and downs. No one gets an instruction book about how to deal emotionally with the death of any loved one, let alone the death of one's child; it's too unthinkable. Mourners are in turbulent, unchartered waters without a guide (5).

And because grief and mourning is very specific to the individual, (i.e. what helps me may not help someone else), you are on your own, even in spite of tremendous support from family, friends, or professional counselors. The grief journey can only be traveled by the individual mourner, one step at a time, one day at a time. There is no proxy. I cannot pay someone to travel in my stead. I could possibly deny or postpone the journey but in time, it will be forced upon me.

After nineteen months, I am, of course, still on this journey. The crushing, heart-breaking and relentless grief experienced in the first months after Josh's death has given way to another grief. Mitchell calls it "shadow grief". A good analogy. Always there, though not always seen.

I wanted to share a quote from her book that I have been thinking about lately.

When your children are here, you tend to take them from granted. When they are gone you think of them twenty-four hours a day.

So true. While I think about my other three children daily, Josh is present 24/7 and his death colors my life like a lens through which all experiences pass. For example, I think about him during my reading, no matter the book, genre or subject matter. A recent example will illustrate.

Through convoluted means, which I don't mean to get into now, but could be another post entitled something like "Grief Journey Creates Reading Journey", I bought and read T.H. White's classic, The Once and Future King and loved it. The book is a wonderful story of the Arthurian legend: the boy who pulls the sword from the stone and becomes King, Merlyn, Lancelot, the Knights of the Round Table, Camelot, Queen Guenever and the Quest of the Holy Grail. But how can anything written in the years between 1938-1941 have anything to do with Josh, you ask?

In another post, I wrote about Josh's special connection with dogs. The following passage made me think of him and what would be his dream job.

In Sir Ector's kennel there was a special boy, called the Dog Boy, who lived with the hounds day and night. He was a sort of head hound, and it was his business to take them out every day for walks, to pull thorns out of their feet, keep cankers out of their ears, bind the smaller bones that got dislocated, dose them for worms, isolate and nurse them in distemper, arbitrate in their quarrels and to sleep curled up among them at night. He would talk to them, not in baby talk like a maiden lady, but correctly in their own growls and barks. They all loved him very much, and revered him for taking thorns out of their toes, and came to him with their troubles at once. He always understood immediately what was wrong, and generally he could put it right. It was nice for the dogs to have their god with them, in visible form.

Another passage, describing Sir Lancelot's view of himself was more sobering.

There was an impediment of his nature. In the secret parts of his peculiar brain, those unhappy and inextricable tangles which he felt at the roots, the boy was disabled by something which we cannot explain. He could not have explained either. He hated himself. The best knight in the world: everybody envied the self-esteem that must surely be his. But Lancelot never believed he was good or nice. Under...there was shame and self-loathing.....

I circled this passage after reading and wrote, "was this Josh?" Maybe not what he felt for most of his life, but what about those last days? What about the last hours? He needed to get rid of a problem. What if he thought the problem was himself? Trying to understand his suicidal mindset is futile, I know, but I still ask.

And so I continue to muddle through my days - reading, thinking and writing - with "shadow grief" attached.

God Bless

Pictures of Josh - 12 Years Old

2010-10-15T18:00:00.003-04:00

As I was thinking about what to write on Josh's blog today, it occurred to me that it has been a while since I posted a slide show of photos. The last one was three months ago and was from 2003 when he was 11 years old.

Going into my analytical mode I ask myself, "Why is that?" The pictures have been scanned for months and have been sitting in my computer, waiting to be uploaded to Picasa, and then the blog. I did not consciously delay action so it must have been subconscious. Yes, this makes sense. I am running out of years that Josh is alive. He died when he was 17 years old, so each slide show that I create and post brings me closer to the end. Words can't express how sad this makes me feel.

RIP Josh. We love and miss you.

God Bless

Why So Many Suicides?

2010-10-08T11:00:00.003-04:00

The number of teens and young adults who have taken their lives in recent weeks is both horrifying and frightening:

25 year old LPGA player
23 year old NFL player
College football player
Northern Virginia high school senior football player
Another kid from the same high school
Third kid with ties to the same high school in a span of two weeks
Four suicides at Fort Hood over 3 days
18 year old Rutgers student

And these are one who have been in the media. How many others are gone - leaving devastation and incomprehensible sorrow and grief for family and friends?

And while the possible reasons vary, the end result is the same.

Although not all are adolescents, I am reminded of a quote from a book, published in 2006 called, By Their Own Young Hand: Deliberate Self-Harm and Suicidal Ideas in Adolescents by Keith Hawton and Karen Rodham, two researchers in England. (See blog post for more thoughts on this book.)

One might regard the extent of self-harm and suicidal behavior by young people in a society as reflecting the extent to which that society cares for and cherishes its young people. Levels of self-harm and suicidal behaviors are far higher in young people in many societies than they were three or four decades ago. There has been much debate about the reason for this. One obvious but important conclusion is that the problem of self-harm and suicidal behavior among adolescents needs to be fully recognized within society. If there is adequate recognition of this problem, then this should lead to prioritization of efforts to understand more about it, to develop preventative initiatives, to ensure that adequate clinical services for adolescents are available, attractive and staffed by knowledgeable individuals, to support helplines for adolescents in need, and to address issues and threats posed by the Internet and other aspects of the media" (pg 193).

Are we a society that "cares for and cherishes its young people"?

Are we recognizing there is even a problem? That our young people are at risk from within - from themselves? That suicidal thoughts and actions are not limited to those with a history of depression, but is now a valid option for a vulnerable mind when encountering a problem that appears to be insurmountable? So in actual fact, this tragedy could happen to any family?

Can more be done to raise public awareness and provide education on mental health and well-being? Should there be greater focus and study on the pressures and issues that are unique to a generation which has grown up with the technological advances experienced in the last two decades? Are there viable and easily accessible support options available in times of distress? Can we lessen the "suicide" stigma so that those in need are not afraid to ask for help?

To the best of our knowledge, our son did not share his fatal thoughts with anyone, however fleeting or consuming they were. So for him and probably many others, the first and perhaps only line of defense resides from within.

I am not sure of everything that could or should be done. All I know is that we have joined a rapidly growing group of families, surviving this needless, senseless and preventable act, committed by our loved one.

Josh and all of these others had their whole lives ahead of them. The increasing number of suicides in this country needs to be stemmed and reversed for as we are so painfully aware, it is literally an issue of life or death.

God Bless

THE QUESTION - Over Eighteen Months Later

2010-09-24T19:33:00.056-04:00

Where has the time gone? It has been over eighteen months since Josh's passing. So hard to type the three italicized words. Not only that, there are several ways I could say it. For example, very straightforwardly: "It has been over eighteen months since Josh's death." Or if I wanted to indicate how he died: "It has been over eighteen months since Josh's suicide." Or if my fingers cannot type the "s" word, I can say: "It has been over eighteen months since Josh decided to leave us."

All say the same thing - he is gone. No longer here. No calls....no texts.....no jokes....no smirk....gone.

It has been over eighteen months and in some ways, I still can't believe it. Yes, the room is still empty. Yes, it is just Tim and I at home with our dogs. Yes, he was not in our family Christmas picture last year. Yes, I "visit" him every weekend and bring fresh flowers, trim the grass around his stone, scrub the dirt away and once done with my little "chores", sit and write a letter to him. Yet in spite of these truths, it is still hard for me to believe that he is really gone. I can't explain it. Maybe in God's mercy, it is His way for this awful truth to seep into my heart, mind and soul rather than be borne full force as He knows a mother could never survive.

But the reality hits me in other ways. Recently, I went to a friend's baby shower. Most of the women were strangers and while in the past, I would've engaged them in conversation about such innocuous things that are part of "mother talk" like: how many kids do you have, how old are they, what are they doing, etc., I was panicking internally that someone would ask me these questions. So I was a quiet guest, aloof and stoic. There was nothing in my demeanor or body language that would invite conversation. I was successful. No one approached me and asked THE QUESTION. As a result, I felt a bit sad while driving home. "Pre-Josh", this would've been a time to be refreshed as a woman and mother - connecting with others about life, family, and children. Instead, I felt empty. But small price to pay as THE QUESTION needed to be avoided at all cost.

In Suzanne Redfern and Susan Gilbert's book, The Grieving Garden: Living With the Death of a Child: 22 Parents Share Their Stories, there is a whole chapter devoted to this issue.

One of the incidents many of us dread the most is being hit with THE QUESTION when a stranger asks about our children. It feels like a body blow to our most tender and vulnerable places. THE QUESTION is excruciating when it assults us in situations like a dinner party, the dentist's chair, or an airplane seat. What do you say when you're asked, "How many children do you have?" (pg 31).

One parent's response

Even though I know my answer, I still dread hearing THE QUESTION. Most of the time I can feel it coming. It's often especially hard, as for many people, discussions of their children are "happy talk", relating how much they enjoy watching their children grow and be happy. I know my answer is going to change the atmosphere from happy to horror, as all suddenly contemplate the worst fear of every parent - loss of a child. After "the answer" from me, there's "the reaction". All of us have experienced the reaction of totally ignoring what's been said. Maybe the other party even immediately changes the subject. Maybe a quick acknowledgement and then back to "happy talk" (pg 35).

What more "happy talk" occurs than at a baby shower??? No, THE QUESTION had to be avoided at all cost. In fact, as shown in the next example, one can get very adept in avoiding THE QUESTION.

Last week, I was at a training meeting for work. The night before, several of us met at the hotel bar for drinks before dinner. While most of my work colleagues know about our tragedy, some did not. I was talking to one "uninformed" colleague and the conversation got around to children. She turned to me and began asking THE QUESTION. I immediately focused on what was showing on a nearby TV screen and made some comment that distracted her and everyone else. Mission accomplished. It was a very deliberate move on my part, but one that still feels foreign.

At this time, I am most comfortable with parents that knew Josh or have kids who knew him. We recently went out to dinner with 3 such couples and I was genuinely interested in knowing what was going on with their sons who have gone off to college. Keeping up with their kids is a thin thread to Josh - what he might be up to if still alive. The night did not pass without some tears on my part as we remembered him, but thankfully, they understand and are not afraid of my emotions.

There are ripple effects to Josh's passing, his death, his suicide in terms of how my life has changed. The way I interact with others at a baby shower or a work event is one small example.

God Bless

"One Strike, They're Out" - September 17, 2010

2010-09-17T22:00:00.005-04:00

Two months ago, I shared in a previous post about being interviewed by a reporter for a local newspaper and how difficult it was. Well, the article came out on Friday. I hope that parents in our area will demand that the School Board reform the Zero Tolerance policy to one that would help our children, rather than hurt them.

Reminders - September 10, 2010

2010-09-10T21:00:00.004-04:00

In a previous post I had shared about a cross stitch pattern, Footprints, that I was working on as part of my grief journey. As one who is notorious for beginning projects and letting them languish for years, I finished this in record time. When completed, off I went to the craft store, taking advantage of their 50% sale to get it matted and framed. It now is on the living room wall, next to the piano, on which numerous items received in the months after Josh's death are displayed.

These items, like many other pictures around our house are reminders not only of our beloved Josh but of our loss. This blog is also a painful reminder. When I read previous posts or write a new one, I have to be ready. Prepared to feel the loss or the "abyss" as one mother , whose 21-year old son died after being hit by a car, puts it in the book, The Grieving Garden: Living With the Death of a Child by Suzanne Redfern and Susan Gilbert. Her description of the abyss: "the searing sense of the full realization of his death....breathtaking, staggering intensity of pain...shattering, unbelievable quality of knowing that my child is gone."

This is what she felt on a daily basis in the days, weeks and months after his death. Then, nine and a half years later, she writes:

I live the bulk of my life at a safe distance from the edge of the abyss. Those early months and years, I often felt that I was right on the edge. Living so near to that abyss left very little room in my life or heart for anything else. And I truly didn't think I would survive if I fell in. Now, while its always in my peripheral vision, my field of awareness, I'm usually not at the edge. But I can go there. Sometimes I am swept there unexpectedly. Other times, on anniversaries or simply on a quiet afternoon, I can choose to go there and feel this primal grief, that bottomless sorrow. For me, to hold his life forever, forever alive in me means that I must also hold his death forever alive in me. I hold it all: the gift of him, the miracle of his life and being, and the abyss. (249-250)

These words really spoke to me. Especially the words: primal grief and bottomless sorrow. This is accurate. This is true. It is what I feel when the loss of our son hits me. When the reality of his death slaps or smacks me in the face. There is no consolation, nothing that can be said or done to make me feel better.

Then the other reality sinks in....that life goes on. The living must continue to live. Josh is gone, but I am not. And so, I have my time of weeping while writing this post, and then onto other things. It is like living on an emotional roller coaster - quite draining. This is why I reserve writing blog posts for the weekend. It is too much emotion for the week as I work in a fairly high-stress job. So it is trying to manage. Cope. Deal. Figure out what I can handle and what I can't which is not easy. And while reading books is helpful, this grief journey is individual. It is unique for each person. So in many ways, one has to figure it out as they go. And with the help and support of family and friends, hopefully I can come through on the other end.

I will end this post with photos of my finished project - in dedication to our much loved and missed boy, Joshua.

God Bless

Empty Nest

2010-08-26T19:00:00.001-04:00

Josh's friends are either at college or will be there soon. He would've been one of them, if he were still here. Tim and I have looked forward in anticipation to being empty nesters but because of Josh's death, what should be a great time in our lives is now just hard, difficult and sad.

Being college sweethearts, we got married right out of school. Nine months later, I was pregnant with our first and by the time our fourth and last child (Josh) was born, I had just turned 30. While it would've been ideal to have time in our marriage without cribs, diapers, strollers or car seats, and to be more financially secure, we adapted and had fun with our large family. We used to joke that with the six of us, the Anderson clan didn't just visit, we invaded.

While there are many good reasons to delay having a family until older and more established, there are some perks in doing it our way. One: raising children takes a lot of energy which is more abundant when younger and two: when the last child leaves home, you are still relatively young and have a lot, Lord willing, of good years to look forward to.

"Pre-Josh", this was my hope. At those times when raising four active children was overwhelming, challenging and took every ounce of energy, Tim and I would look at each other, sigh and ask when they were all leaving. We obviously loved each of our kids and would do anything for them, but we also yearned for the time when they were out of the house, on their own and we could just focus on ourselves.

Today, the house is quiet since Gillian left for UVA last week. At times, I am caught in a fantasy - deluding myself into thinking that Josh's room is empty not because he is dead, but because he is at school too. In those moments, I think about what Tim and I would be doing, together, sans children. How would I be feeling now that our empty nest nirvana is here? Would we have gone out to a nice dinner to celebrate our new found freedom? Would we raise our champaign glasses in a toast to the next stage of married life saying, "Here's to the future - we are blessed to be young and healthy enough to enjoy it"?

Then reality comes crashing down and when I peer ahead to the future, instead of seeing a bright new stage of married life, all I see is a life without our beloved Josh. An amputated and crippled family. Struggling to survive this earthquake that has shaken our very core. I don't think Josh would want me to be sad and look so bleakly at the future, but then why did he do this to himself and to us?

I had mentioned a book called The Grieving Garden: Living With the Death of a Child by Suzanne Redfern and Susan Gilbert in the previous post. For this post I want to share a poem that expresses where a mother is at in her grief journey, twenty-eight years after her nine year old daughter died of a rare disease. While I cannot relate now, this poem does speak to me and gives me hope that peace, joy, contentment and happiness may be in the future.

HE IS GONE

You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all the he has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him,
Or you can be full of the love that you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he is gone,
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,
Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

David Harkins, Silloth, Cumbria, UK 1981

I will end this post with a picture from Homecoming 2008, recently sent by a fellow mom whose daughter knew Josh. Even though he is in the back, this mom knew that I would want to have it. She is right.

Rest in peace, our dear son. We miss you so much.

God Bless

17 Months Later - August 18, 2010

2010-08-18T09:37:00.022-04:00

It is now seventeen months since our beloved Josh, at the tender age of 17, with his whole life ahead of him, acted on what is still an incomprehensible decision to end his own life. We continue to reel, even after all of these months.

As I was writing in my journal the other night, an image from a 1998 movie, Deep Impact, came to mind. Two people were on the beach waiting for the inevitable. A comet struck the ocean creating a ginormous tidal wave that wiped them and miles of civilization out. After pondering this image, I wrote in my journal:

Absorbing tragedy - a new thought. I was going along in life, minding my own business, so to speak, and Josh took his life. This monumental tragedy - like a tidal wave, a train wreck, a hurricane, a fire - has struck me full force but rather than being dashed to bits, I have been asked to absorb the equivalent - into my heart, body and soul in order to continue with life. Being asked to incorporate this tidal wave of loss into my conscious and subconscious mind. First of all, the impact is enough to kill or if not, to maim and cripple me. Second, it is not something that can be seen from the outside - the devastating damage is internal.

Trying to absorb this immense tragedy - Josh's death, my baby boy who is now gone - is a monumental task if asked to do it one time, but I am constantly faced with reminders that re-open wounds, resurface feelings, and push me back. So it is one step forward and three steps back.

The most difficult thing is that it is all internal. One does not see broken bones, a cast, or burns - no disfigurement or scarring. If someone were burned over 90% of their body, one glance would be enough to know this person has years of pain and healing in front of them. It would be understood. But in my case, because my wounds are not external, no one would know that this kind of pain, grief, suffering and healing is what I face as well.

But when I look in the mirror, I know. I see someone who is not whole. Who is fractured, broken, and burned. A part of her heart that has been cut out - an amputee. I see this and feel it - every day. It is almost 17 months, in fact, the 18th is on a Wednesday which is the day of the week that he died. That is hard because 17 months ago, right now, he was still alive. How I wish we could move time back.

I have finished a book called The Grieving Garden: Living with the Death of a Child by Suzanne Redfern and Susan Gilbert. In it, 22 parents share their stories of loss. The circumstances vary widely - mode of death, age of the child, and how long ago their tragedy occurred. But the feelings are the same. I have found this book to very helpful and plan to share more in future posts. However, I will end this post with a "Permission to Mourn" certificate, shared by a father who lost his 32 year old daughter to lung cancer.

PERMISSION TO MOURN

Is granted to the holder of this certificate, ____________________ who is hereby entitled to publicly acknowledge his/her loss, mourn openly, to share narratives of the loss, and to recruit social support in his/her own way and time, without apology or embarrassment. Tears, memories, silence, uncertainty, and strong emotions are hereby enfranchised.

Please treat this griever with kindness, compassion, and love.

This certificate has no expiration date.

We continue to feel the thoughts and prayers of so many who also love and miss our beloved Josh.

God Bless

"Grief Mine" - Facebook

2010-08-14T11:00:00.002-04:00

I have a new term: "grief mine". Like a land mine buried in the ground, ready to blow up an unsuspecting and potentially innocent soul, so grief mines are hidden in places that one would least expect. I landed on one the other night.

I had a hard time sleeping and went online to check my Facebook. A good way to spend a few minutes or hours catching up on friend's activities, viewing pictures, reading wall posts, etc. I happened to see summer vacation pictures of a friend who has a son Josh's age. They were at the beach and he looked so handsome, strong and most of all - ALIVE. In his face, one could see the expectation of a bright future, full of promise, with new adventures and experiences awaiting around every corner.

As I looked at the photos and contrasted them to our summer vacation, also on the beach, but no pictures of Josh - running, playing, posing with his sisters - I began to feel sorry for myself. Started crying. And felt, if I am being completely honest, a little jealous. It hit me that I no longer have what she has. No more happy "all in the family" photos for me. The feelings of despair and sorrow were strong and completely unexpected. I was not prepared. Caught unaware, blind-sighted and knocked flat on my back, emotionally. A casualty of a "grief mine."

At times like this, the reality of his death and our loss is just too hard to bear. So far, at least for me, it has not gotten easier over time.....

Josh - With all of my heart, I wish you were still here with us - alive and well.

God Bless

Her Name is Grief (2) August 6, 2010

2010-08-07T11:24:00.051-04:00

I think of Grief as a "she". A big, round, soft older woman with wide arms and a loving smile. She knows pain, living with it constantly as she feels everyone's loss. Even though worn down and burdened, she still manages to keep some humor. Why do I imagine grief like this?

At this time, almost 17 months later, nothing else comes to mind. Certainly not a monster, horrifying and scary, but rather one who knows sorrow and can empathize. It saddens her that I feel such pain, but at the same time, she knows that it is absolutely necessary for healing, closure, and a chance to move on with life. She is my companion now. She lets me live my life but at times, she needs to be felt in all of her glory. She is cognizant of her power and that too much can be devastating, overwhelming and unmanageable.

She is actually proud of me - that I am able to continue with life, yet still acknowledge her. It may be that too many people actually try to push her to the far recesses of their mind where she cannot move, breathe or help with the healing. Stuffed in a little corner and ignored, her frustration leads to anger which strengthens her power. In fury, she gets out of control and wreaks havoc mentally, emotionally and physically.

But I don’t think she wants to be this way. She only wants to be recognized, acknowledged, and respected. Being aware of her presence, there is no need to be at odds. Instead, we are comrades in the loss of our beloved Josh. From time to time, we need to have a cry, feel sorry for ourselves, think of all that is gone and what will never be, which brings even more tears, until both are drained. After this intense connection, she retreats for a while as she knows that I need a break. And surprisingly, she needs some breathing space too.

As I said in the first post, I think over time, she will become less selfish and needy, allowing other emotions to reside and co-exist in harmony. She will retreat for longer periods of time, knowing that we have spent enough time together. She will be content, realizing her job is almost done. Because of her, I will be at better place - have perspective, acceptance and peace. I will be able to move on.

I hope this is true even though I do not feel it as yet. Because of this, I am okay to keep her in my life, to pay attention and be aware. To not be afraid to let her fill me with her presence. We are in this together - she is my friend. She is not against me, but for me.

Her Name is Grief - August 3, 2010

2010-08-03T08:00:00.008-04:00

In the past, when reading or hearing of other family's tragedies, I had thought ourselves lucky that we had been spared, then quickly knocked on wood. We had four children who were easily conceived and born, slept through the night at 6 weeks old, did not suffer from colic, and were well behaved. Tim was 100% engaged as their father and in spite of our different personalities, we rarely disagreed on how to raise them. We had no experience with death of an immediate family member as both mine and his parents are living - we haven’t even suffered the loss of our dogs.

Death and his close cousin, Grief rarely intruded in my life, except for example, while reading a sad story. Also, I do cry easily at movies, even an animated one like Lion King, when a character that I care about, dies. At those times, Grief, like a shawl, drapes over my shoulders, enveloping me in her sorrow but is easily discarded when closing the book or walking out of the movie theater. I am now aware that this was only a glimpse of her, a shadow of her true self.

Since Josh's death, on that fateful day of March 18, 2009, Grief, in all of her overwhelming fury, domination, and expansivenss; with no mercy, respite, or break -the "real deal" has come to stay. She invades my heart, soul and mind and when full blown, fills every cell and crevice within my body. Nothing is off limits or sacred. She is with me everywhere, all of the time; no matter what I do or where I am at, she is there. She has now become a part of me. I cannot escape. There is no place to hide, she finds me everywhere.

Strange. What gives her such strength? Such tenacity? Such power? It is tied directly to the love for my boy, who is now gone. Because I love him so much, I grieve so much. And I will love Josh until the day I die, so it stands to reason that I will also grieve until the day I die.

I feel her everywhere. In a picture of Josh, she is there. When I see a kid who has the same kind of build as him, she is there. When I think of places we have been or things we have done, she is there. For example, we are now on vacation in Vermont, a place where he has been. Sometimes, Josh and I would play golf with Tim, in a "best ball" format. With the strokes given (1 if less than 250 yards, 2 if more), it would be quite competitive. I will never forget his smile when a well struck 9-iron would sail 150+ yards, the distance of my driver - sad to say.

During a recent round of golf, on a particular hole, the memory of playing with Josh was so vivid, I could almost "see" him. I remember it being a perfect match of our good/bad shots. We used my drive which landed left of the fairway. His second shot put us in front of the green on the right. We used my pitch up to the green and he made the putt. Anytime we beat Tim on a hole, we would quietly give each other a fist pump. I am happy for this distinct memory, but Grief finds me as well.

I want her to go, but not really for she is proof of my love for Josh. And so, in a weird way, I embrace her, revel in her strength, marvel at how powerful she is. I want her to stay for I fear the time when I don’t cry for him. Would that mean that my love has lessened? Or that I am forgetting him? Or is it possible that as time goes on, she gets weaker, so other emotions can come back? For early on, she is so big, so huge that all other feelings are crowded out. In that way, she is quite selfish and jealous. But maybe over time, she will shrink, so there is room for others - like joy, happiness, peace, contentment, and hope.

I am glad that I don’t feel her 24/7. I know she is there but she lets me get on with other aspects of my life: family, job, working out, reading, etc. She does not control every waking moment, of which, I am thankful. I don’t think I could handle it - way too much. I can hear her voice:

"You have to feel me from time to time. I can’t be pushed back or down for a long period of time. I need to come up and breathe, explode, be felt. Otherwise, it will be worse for you. I know it’s hard, but you have to let me come up. You have to feel me - not all the time, but some of the time. I am not an ogre. I am actually here because of you. For if you didn’t love Josh so much, I would not have a reason to be with you. So do not be afraid. Do not hate me. Do not despise me. We are both here together because and only because of your love for Josh.”

So there it is. Love, death and grief - intertwined. I can’t change what has happened and because of that, she is here to stay.

God Bless

Our Summer Vacation - Josh is With Us

2010-07-28T08:32:00.015-04:00

We are on Cape Cod, Massachusetts, visiting Tim's family - a beautiful, relaxing spot. It was one of Josh's favorite places; in fact, the main picture on the blog was taken here. And while he is always in our hearts, just in case, he has a way of reminding us of his presence.

Tim's parents belong to a country club and on Sunday nights, there is a wonderful buffet dinner. Because we are a big group, we are split between two tables: the adults and "kids". Wouldn't you know, both this year and last year, there was an empty seat at the kids table? It surprised and saddened me last year, but now, I just smile inside, knowing that Josh should have a place with his siblings and cousins.

After dinner, the kids walked down to the beach where Gillian captured a magnificent sunset on her camera. And because it had just started to sprinkle, when they turned back towards the clubhouse, a huge rainbow filled the sky. It may be hard to see, but the last picture actually shows a double rainbow.

I had been asking Josh to show us that he is with us. I believe he has.

We all love and miss you, Josh.
God Bless

16 months later - July 18, 2010

2010-07-18T20:30:00.005-04:00

Yesterday was rough - unexpectedly. Tim and I met with a reporter from the Connection, a chain of local newspapers in our area. She is writing an article about the disciplinary process in Fairfax County Public Schools (FCPS) and has heard about Josh’s experience and subsequent death.

I was fine at the beginning. We talked about how Josh made a stupid mistake and because of the Zero Tolerance policy in the school system, was treated like he was a threat to the school which meant being sent to another high school for the first offense and most likely expelled completely for the second.

We do not condone what he did. But he was not a threat to the student body, of either school.

The FCPS hearing is a horrible experience, for both child and parents. Due process is non-existent; students are guilty as charged. No decision, upon appeal, has ever been overturned. Our question is this: "If the outcome has already been pre-determined, why go through the hearing process? The student is subject to a highly intimidating environment in which they are expected to answer a barrage of questions. It is a lesson in humiliation. To add insult to injury, there is no support, counseling, or assistance for the child and family, either before the hearing or after.

My words are strong, I know. But until your child gets caught in this net, you cannot even imagine the experience. Our three older children either did not violate school policies or were smart enough not to get caught, so we never had gone through this process. In fact, knowing what I know now, that Josh was not emotionally strong enough to handle the probable expulsion, I wish we decided to forgo the hearing, not even attend. What was the point? I should've protected our son from that type of sanctioned bullying.

We did not do this and the morning before the school board hearing, Josh took his life.

She asked if we received anything from the hearing office after the tragedy - a call, letter, or perfunctory condolence card and was surprised at the answer, "no". And to our knowledge, no study has been done either before Josh's death or afterwards to determine the effectiveness of this policy. This needs to be done. The tax paying parents of the County should demand it.

Then the reporter asked, "Would things have changed if Josh were treated differently?" Wow - that really hit me. My eyes filled with tears immediately. A minute later I replied softly as the answer is too difficult to face, much less hear aloud, "I don't like to think about it because it makes me angry and bitter. But yes, I think things would be different". Left unsaid: "Yes, he would still be alive."

With this next question, she was just trying to understand the timeline of events, not to send me in an emotional tail spin. "Would Josh have graduated this spring?" An innocent question with an easy answer but I had to get up and leave. My hand over my mouth to stop loud sobs escaping my lips, not wanting to make her feel bad. The grief washed over me anew.

It has now been 16 months since Josh's fatal decision. One might think that it has gotten easier with the passing of time. But grief does not travel in a linear fashion. In our experience, the connection between grief and time is better described like an archer's target, with concentric circles around a bulls-eye, representing Josh's death. Each circle around the center corresponds to a period of time, say a year. As time moves on, the distance to the circle increases but not by much. Meaning that any memory, word, song, thought, movie, photo or innocent question can bring back all of the emotions of that time. It is never far away. I know that five, ten or twenty years will bring some distance, but I don't think it will be that much.

I will end this post with two pictures that Gillian found recently. They were taken in 2008 as an assignment for her high school photography class. Any new pictures, especially ones taken when he is older, are priceless treasures.

Josh - we love and miss you.

God Bless

Pictures of Josh - 11 yrs old

2010-07-12T18:46:00.012-04:00

It is a good thing that we don't use our dining room for it has been completely taken over by my photo scanning project that I started three months after Josh died (see previous post). I thought it would take a few months - ha! A year later and I am still at it. It is a bit discouraging as it appears as though I have only scratched the surface, but in actual fact, I have accomplished a lot. All of my pictures from the year Josh was born (1992) are digital. Although this was my original goal, it will not feel complete until I scan the rest of my negatives - back to 1983, when Tim and I got married.

I am taking it a little at a time. No rush. No deadlines. No pressure. For I can only do what I want or what feels right. Sometimes it is days or even weeks before I feel like doing something on this project. "Pre-Josh", this would have bothered me. I am a list person - write it down and check it off. A big project like this would've been reduced to manageable chunks, to be tackled every weekend until finished and then onto the next project. I am (or used to be) a goal-oriented person. The more goals, the better. They motivated and energized me. No longer. Strange how a significant personality trait can just dissipate - as if it were never there. That person seems foreign to me now.

So what am I doing with my time - outside of work? I've been reading a lot. I watch Red Sox games while working on my cross stitching project. There is a story about Josh in my head that I've started to put on paper. A little this and a little that. Nothing big, nothing much. But enough to get me through each day and night.

These picture are of Josh in 2003. He was eleven years old and you can see the beginnings of the infamous "smirk".

I love you Josh. I think about you every day and miss you more now than ever before. R.I.P

Love,
Mom

Anger and Grief - July 3, 2010

2010-07-03T12:52:00.046-04:00

Shortly after Josh died, I read that anger is one of the 5 or 7 stages of grief. Intellectually, this made sense, but it had not been my experience.....until now. Over 15 months later, I feel anger. It is a surprising emotion - after months of sadness, pain, grief and sorrow; followed recently by weeks of feeling numb and empty.

Each weekend, I visit Josh and write him a letter. Today was sunny and hot, but not humid. Flags were everywhere, swaying in the breeze. Other than the chimes in Josh's tree and the occasional bird chirping, it was quiet. I told him I was angry.

I am angry at him for what he did to himself, to me and our family. I am angry at myself for not even thinking that suicide was a possibility, and thus all I asked him was, "You're not thinking of hurting yourself, are you?" at which point, he looked at me like I had green hair and said "no" in a disgusted tone and left the room. Taking him at face value, I thought, "Okay, at least that is not an issue." How wrong I was.

I am angry at God for not intervening. Perhaps one lucid thought in the midst of the irrational mindset could have deterred him from following through on the fatal action. Or maybe Tim or I could have woken up and diverted his plans. I have heard numerous stories of thwarted suicide attempts and think, "Why not Josh?" Why couldn't he be saved too?"

I am angry at the unfairness of it. If suicide, from a purely statistical point of view occurs in x number of teens, or in x number of families, or to x number of parents, why him? Why us? Why me?

There are pictures of Josh all over our house, in every room. When I see these photos or think about him, I do not think of the happy memories. If I am completely honest, I think, "You stupid boy. Why did you do such a dumb thing? Why couldn't you have chosen a non-fatal route? You did something that is irreversible. There is no turning back. We cannot fix this. You are gone and there is nothing we can do to change this."

Then the finality of his death hits me once again. I feel guilty at being angry at Josh, who is after all, the one who is dead, and I weep out of self-pity - for him and for me.

Thanks to those who continue to remember Josh and who keep us in your thoughts and prayers as it is still so hard.

God Bless

Congratulations LHS and SLHS graduates

2010-06-17T07:38:00.018-04:00

The past few days have been cloudy, overcast and rainy in the Washington DC area. But today is a beautiful day, with bright sunshine and blue skies, fitting for Graduation Day for the two high schools that our Josh attended.

Having gone through this with Josh's three older siblings, I think back to what it was like, and perhaps the feelings and thought bubbles in their minds. Amazement while getting dressed, thinking, "Wow, is it really here?" Bittersweet feelings: sad that one chapter of life is ending but excited (and a little scared) at what new experiences and friendships lie ahead. Jittery nerves while lining up with fellow graduates, waiting for the start of the ceremony. Pride when walking up to receive the hard earned diploma. Sheer joy when it is all over - surrounded by friends and family - hugs, handshakes and high-fives. Pictures, pictures and more pictures - causing twitching faces due to all the smiling. Off to family celebrations, then ANGP (all night grad party), then whatever is planned for the summer.

It is a special day for parents as well. I remember feeling many of the same things: relief and amazement that high school is over, thinking, where did the time go? Pride while watching them receive their diploma; happiness at seeing their joy. Congratulations to other graduates and families marveling at how these kids are all grown up, ready to embark on their futures, hoping that we have given them the tools to succeed. Wanting the whole week to be a special one: hosting family members, graduation parties, attending various events for seniors, volunteering at ANGP. It is their graduation, but it feels like that for us as well.

Admittedly, it has been a sadder than normal week for me as I can't help but think about what we would be doing if Josh were still alive. How different things would be. Another big event that he (and we) are missing out on.

One consolation, and it is a big one, is knowing that Josh has not been forgotten by his friends and the community. I've received a couple of emails which have touched us deeply.

I am the parent of a former classmate of Josh's (my daughter sat next to Josh throughout 6th grade at Forestville) and am also co-chair of this year's Baccalaureate at LHS for the Class of 2010. As you may remember from your older kids, Baccalaureate is an independent, interfaith, celebration of graduation with music, prayer, and reflection. We are all conscious that, in an ideal world, Josh would have been graduating with this class. As a result, one of the groups of performers have asked to dedicate their song ("Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley) to Josh. We recognize how hard this week in particular and want to let you know that Josh will be in everyone's hearts and prayers.

As high school graduation approaches, we want you and Tim to know that Josh will be in all of our thoughts. The seniors who were promoted from Forestville in 2004 will be having a kickball game and potluck dinner. As a group, we are planning a class contribution to Josh's memorial fund. Josh's blessed memory will always remain in our hearts.

While we were invited to both events and to the graduation ceremonies of both schools, it would be too difficult to attend. It is enough to know that he has been and will continue to be in the hearts of friends and classmates. I will end this post with pictures taken from a couple of yearbooks that we have received.

Inside cover of the 2009 McLean Mustang Yearbook

Half-page dedication in LHS yearbook

We appreciate so much what others have done to ensure Josh's memory lives on.

God Bless

Teammates Still Remember Josh

2010-06-10T19:40:00.002-04:00

Over a year has passed since Josh left us on that fateful day, March 18, 2009. He was a gifted athlete and school was marked not so much by quarters passed, but sports seasons. He left us two days before the opening South Lakes lacrosse game. The boys played that Friday night with a man down on defense on the first play - in memory of him. We received pictures of that night which are posted on the blog.

He would be in his senior year. Another South Lakes lacrosse season has passed. I received an email with this note from a SLHS mom. It encourages us to know that our beloved son still lives in the hearts of his teammates.

My name is Meagan Church. My son, Jeff, is a student at South Lakes (sophomore) and I wrote to you last year shortly after Josh passed away. Jeff gave up soccer last year to try out for the JV LAX team. I thought it might be a mistake (I was afraid that he wouldn't make the team since he didn't have any experience) but I supported his decision to try. Since all of the players started out together Jeff had the opportunity to meet Josh. Jeff was impressed that an older, "cool" guy would be nice to the younger, newer players like Jeff. Jeff played on JV last season.

This season Jeff started on JV but was moved up to Varsity for several games. When the season ended I opened up Jeff's LAX bag to clean things. Right away when I unzipped the bag I noticed the letters "JA" on Jeff's helmet. I was thinking JA, JA, JA... then I remember that the players had put Josh's initials on their helmets to honor him.

I took this picture to share with you. I hope that you don't mind. You know how dirty, wet and sweaty these boys get. It was clear to me that the initials were not faded--someone had to have taken the time to go over them again--they were clear and the ink was dark. I asked Jeff about it and he said that all of the helmets are that way. It's obvious that the players missed and honored your son in every game they played. I'm proud that my son had the chance to wear a helmet with Josh's initials on it.

Josh - I wish you knew what an impact your short life on Earth has had on so many people. Rest in peace, my beloved son. Know that you are still missed by family, friends and teammates. We all wish with all of our hearts that you could have found another way.

God Bless

Grief Journey - How Long?

2010-05-23T14:17:00.038-04:00

As mentioned in the Mother’s Day #2 post, I have read a short book called Life After The Death Of My Son: What I am Learning by Dennis Apple. This father lost his 19-year old son due to complications brought on by mono. He died in his sleep on the family room couch and was discovered by his dad. It was a totally unexpected death of an otherwise healthy young man. He wrote this book 17 years after the death of his son and I have found much that validates my own feelings/experiences with gentle guidance for the long road ahead.

On the grief journey:

First year was a daze - living a parent's worst nightmare.
Second year, facing painful reminders on the calendar, "we knew we were in this for the long haul."
Parents who have lost a child are in a fog, like waking up from general anesthesia, for years, not days.
"Bereaved parents feel as though they're on a long, sad march but have no final destination. We feel as though this overwhelming sadness will be with us forever."
"Bereaved parents are also learning how to play hurt, but the casual onlooker has no idea how badly they've been injured or how long it will take to recover."
Grieve until the "cup of sorrow is fully drained."
In the author's case, it was five long years before he and his wife were ready to move forward with their lives.

Although it is daunting to think that my grief journey is in it's infancy, I don't shy away from this truth. Deep in my heart and soul, I know it will take a very, very long time to recover from or be reconciled to Josh's death. How long? I don't know. Why so long? Apple gives some answers.

Why the death of a child, in particular, is so hard:

Losing a child is like "having your heart ripped out of you, without the aid of an anesthetic."
It is unnatural - summed up in this saying: "When I buried my parents, I buried my past; when I buried my spouse, I buried my present; but when I buried my child, I buried my future."
A child carries the parent's DNA. Everything connected to the parent that was in that child dies as well: physical features, mannerisms, idiosyncrasies, etc.
This death is unique, creating a cascade of other losses: future birthdays, graduation celebrations, first job, wedding, first home, grandchildren.
Parents grieve over these additional losses.

I've learned that losing Josh has been a compound loss. Loss upon loss upon loss. Like dominoes - one falls and so they will eventually all fall. One event that builds upon itself. This is why it has been so overwhelming.

Why it will take as long as it takes:

"As a parent mourns the death of her child, the mourning itself provides the connection between the parent and the child....an invisible umbilical cord that keeps the two connected. To cut the cord would be abandoning the child. Few grievers understand this truth, and it is the reason we become resentful of those who try to hurry us through our grief. To us who grieve, it feels as though they - the buck-up-and-get-over-it people - are trying to separate us from our child."
In fact, people who try to push grieving parents towards a quick resolution, show that by doing so, they have not suffered this loss. Fellow bereaved parents know better.
A good response for those well-meaning people: "People close on houses, not the death of a child."

The whole concept that mourning Josh maintains my connection to him is not something I could have articulated prior to reading this book, but it is true. And even the thought of someone saying "I should be over his death by now" makes me angry. I hope this is never said to me.

Why it means so much to keep up with Josh's friends:

"Grieving parents keep a mental record of the age of their child, and they carefully watch whose who were friends of their child as they continue on."

Aha! This is why I like receiving emails, calls and visits from Josh's friends. Why I am happy to accept a friend request on Facebook. Why I know what college choices have been made. Why I have graduation photos in small frames on a table with Josh's pictures. Why his friend's sports photos are on my fridge. Why Tim goes to see his friends play football, basketball, baseball and lacrosse. We still want to know what goes on in these boy's lives - those who are the same age as our Josh would have been.

Do you ever get over it?

This author's answer, seventeen years later: "No, you never get over it. It gets different, but you never get over it. For us, the first five years represent the worst of the nightmare. We'll have a big scar on our hearts forever."

Surely Josh did not know this would be the consequence of his fatal action. But I wish he did, for maybe that knowledge would have saved him.

God Bless

14 Months Later - Do You Have Any "Josh Treasures?"

2010-05-18T18:30:00.009-04:00

My friend Roxanne put this picture of Josh in a beautiful photo album filled with pictures of our two boys. I had seen most of the pictures but not this one. In speaking to her recently, she spent six hours going through previous pictures and found others of Josh that she will send to me. We talked about how finding forgotten pictures of him is like finding "Josh Treasures".

My daughter, Gillian, recently found a couple of black and white pictures that she took of Josh in 2008, when she was taking a photo class in high school. (I will put those in another post.) When she showed me, I was so happy that she found them. A few months ago, I probably would've broken down, so I can see some progress in my grief journey. If you have any pictures of Josh, please email them to me: jandermom@gmail.com. I would love to have them.

I love this picture. What a strong, handsome (and funny) guy.

I'd love to hear of your favorite or most vivid memories of Josh. Each memory, like each picture, is a treasure, wrapped up and stored in this mother's heart. Thanks so much to all those who have shared their "Josh Treasures" with me so far. I will never tire of hearing them. These memories keep him alive.

God Bless

Mother's Day #2 - May 9, 2010

2010-05-09T20:20:00.003-04:00

Last year, the days leading up to Mother's day, which was two months after Josh's death, was worse than the actual day. This year, the opposite is true. I knew the day was approaching, but did not feel anything, one way or the other. We made plans to meet my parents at Josh's grave site and then take them to a nice Mother's Day brunch.

Then, last night, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was watching Star Trek and thinking that Josh would've really like the movie. In fact, I think the trailers were out in the weeks prior to his death. I began wishing for the "good old days", when we would watch movies together. He would stretch out next to me on the bed or on the floor, with the dogs curled up beside him. My wishing became a yearning, a longing, a desire so strong that I could "see" him next to me. Then the knowledge that it would never be brought on pain similar to the first days after his death - sharp, overwhelming, deep and intense.

I haven't felt much lately, but now realize that it doesn't mean the pain isn't there. It is ever present, flowing underneath the consciousness and at different times, will come to the surface and release, like a geyser, enveloping and drowning me in emotion. Then the feelings subside, replaced by a numbness - most likely the body's way to protect itself as one could not possibly cope with feeling such grief every day, for months on end. But this kind of numbness has its price too.

Despite Josh's death, life goes on and I am swept in its current. Apart from the geyser-like burst of emotions just described, I mainly feel a deep hollowness inside, a black hole or void that is in the shape of my son, filling every cell in my body. An anesthetizing emptiness - one that erases the enjoyment of life or even the desire for a fulfilled life.

I can relate so much to this poor father's words, describing what it was like to come back to an empty home, after the sudden death of his 19-year old son.

We had to face the empty house, the place where he died, by ourselves. The engine was still running as I turned to my wife and said, "All I have to do is reach up to the visor and press the garage door button and we can lean back in our car seats, hold hands, close our eyes and die together."

"Yes," she said. "I know its very tempting. But we could never do that to Andy. But if we didn't have him...." She didn't finish her sentence but we both knew how tempting and easy it would be to slip out of our pain. We both wanted to die and felt it would have been a wonderful gift if somehow we had a legitimate way to leave the world.

This feeling continued for nearly five years. We were not seriously suicidal, but we had no desire to live either. It's hard to admit, but it's a feeling shared by countless bereaved parents.

Dennis Apple wrote Life After The Death of My Son: What I'm Learning, seventeen years after his otherwise healthy son died from complications due to mono.

I recently went to a Pink Ribbon luncheon, an annual event raising money for breast cancer. The key note speaker was a women who was diagnosed with a virulent form of breast cancer while a young wife and mother, barely in her 30's. She became a warrior, fighting for her life which meant subjecting her body to untested medical treatment, basically becoming a human lab rat. And despite all odds, she has won the fight and has been cancer free for over ten years. Her story was motivating, I am sure, for all the women in that room currently undergoing treatment for breast cancer.

"What if that happened to me - post Josh?" Would I become a warrior and do anything and everything to live? Or would I lie down in submission and allow the cancer to do it's work? Being brutally honest, I don't have the energy or the desire to fight for life. While I would not do anything to deliberately put myself at death's doorstep, if the opportunity presented itself, I wouldn't fight it because I really don't care what happens to me now. I think this is what Apple means when he says, "we had no desire to live". I am indifferent to life, apathetic and uncaring.

And then I get a Mother's Day card from my 22-year old daughter that says:

Mom,
You'll never know
how many times your voice
on the other end of the line
has helped me get through a bad day....

....or how often I'll remember
some little piece of wisdom
you gave me
months before,
even though it seemed
like I wasn't listening
at the time.

You'll never know
how much it means to me
to share my feelings
with the one person
who probably knows me
better than anyone,
and who has become
such a wonderful friend.

I love you, Mom

Knowing what a hard day this would be for me since none of the kids would be here, she arranged for her friends who live in DC to hand deliver a beautiful flower arrangement to me - in her stead. It is a wonderful gesture of love and when I called to say "thank you", her parting words were, "Remember Mom, there are three other kids who love you very much."

So because of my three surviving children, if I were faced with the choice of life or death, maybe I could find the will and desire to live. For them.

God Bless

Gone But Not Forgotten - April 25, 2010

2010-04-25T11:17:00.045-04:00

It has been one year, one month and one week since Josh left us all. I say "all" because the loss is felt well beyond just his immediate or extended family. His friends still think about him, miss him and continue to remember our beloved son.

Two such friends came over this week. They had been talking about visiting for quite a while, but just could not do it. Not sure how they would feel being in his home, seeing the pictures, and facing the fact that he is gone. Death is strange that way - the knowledge can rest in the mind, to be put away when too painful or when one wants to pretend it didn't happen. That Josh just went away someplace and will return - with the infamous smirk. The distance to the heart is mere inches, but can seem like miles when reality is hard to accept.

I can understand completely. But I want to say to his friends - if and when you would like to talk, our door is always open.

We had a good visit. The tissue box was near. Although sad, I wanted to hear about their memories: how they found out about Josh's death, what was their first reaction, what do they think now, what other experiences do they have with suicide, what they remember most about him, etc. Our conversation was similar to what I've had with other friends: frank, personal, deep and real. They encouraged me not to feel guilty but I cannot accept absolution - at least not yet. The compassion, sympathy and love expressed by his friends is amazing and so appreciated.

We talked about Josh's Facebook page. They said that people were continuing to post, even as recently as this month. They learned that I had received a copy of the posts right after his death and on his birthday but had not seen anything else. Sure enough, a couple of days later, one of these friends sent me a couple of emails with the rest of the posts. I've read all of them and can see now that his friends have posted when they heard of his death, after coming to see us, at each month's anniversary, during the football season, on his birthday, on the one-year anniversary and at random times - whenever they thought of him. Even friends who are now in college. If people continue to post on his wall, I will receive updates from his friend. What a kind, thoughtful thing to do.

To see the multitude of posts on his wall, even a year later is surprising to me, but in retrospect, it shouldn't be. Not when I know that another of his friends wrote a half page article for the school newspaper called "Remembering Josh: One year after the death of a beloved classmate, students continue to honor him in many ways."

Or when I hear of a lacrosse teammate who is wearing his number, 33, during this spring season. I hope Josh sees all of this and that he feels the continued outpouring of love - just as we do.

Rest in peace, my dear son. Much loved, much missed and still remembered by family and friends. We all wish you could have found another way out.

God Bless