4 Years and 4 Months: Dead But Not Dead

My grief journey has taken a very unexpected turn in terms of my reading.  For the past nine months, after reading Winter of the World, an engrossing novel about World War II by Ken Follett, I have been obsessed.

Since then, I have read or listened to 25 books on WWII:  biographies, memoirs, historical fiction, non-fiction and have watched the two HBO series Band of Brothers and The Pacific and as well as Hollywood's renditions of the war: War and Remembrance, Patton, Midway and Memphis Belle.  I have ordered 17 more books from Amazon and have another 20 books on my wish list.  I have never been interested in history, much less military history before now.

Why the fascination?  And how does this relate to my grief journey, knowing that somehow it must?

I find the first question easier to answer; in fact, the following bullet points are what I wrote on the first page of my WWII study journal:

• This war spanned the entire globe - it was a true world-wide conflict.
• It was a two front war against Nazi Germany and Imperialist Japan.
• Transformation of the United States was unprecedented from an isolationist country to full and total commitment to war as we would only accept full and unconditional surrender of the enemy - no peace negotiations. 
• Enormous sacrifice of human life.
• Countless inspiring stories of valor and courage.
• Sometimes, the outcomes of battles came down to pure luck.
• War politics personified in the larger-than-life Big Three: Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin.
• War and larger-than-life generals: Eisenhower, MacArthur, Rommel, Montgomery.
• War and citizen soldiers: college students, farm boys, salesmen, factory workers - regular "Joes" turned soldier.
• Homefront in war - changes in the workforce primarily for women and Negroes.
• Holocaust 
• Post war - the "Greatest Generation".  What did they do? How did they fare?
• Post war politics: Cold War to Korean War to Vietnam War

I think the answer to the second question, "How does this relate to my grief journey?" can be found in my September 2012 post: "He Who Learns Must Suffer".

I wrote that reading drama by the four greatest tragedians (Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides and Shakespeare) was cathartic.  I also noted that while my external life had contracted to a small circle, my internal world had expanded with the exploration of ancient Greek and Elizabethan literature.

Since then, my mind's eye has jumped centuries to the greatest drama of human history: World War II.  And instead of reading about characters created from imagination, I am learning about real life heroes and heroines - about the grisly business of war and how in the midst of either witnessing or experiencing unspeakable horror, one can keep their human dignity and find the resilience and fortitude to keep going.

The cathartic affect is still a paradox: i.e how can reading about someone else's pain and suffering cause a purging, cleansing and connection to my own deep feelings?

In recent days, I have been drawn to the classic memoirs of two Marines who fought in the Pacific Theatre, Helmut for My Pillow by Robert Leckie and With the Old Breed by E. B Sledge.  These brave men were featured in Tom Hanks/Steven Spielburg's HBO mini-series, The Pacific. 

The title of this post comes from a quote in Leckie's book as he ruminates on a post-battle scene in Cape Gloucester on the island of New Britain.

I stood among the heaps of dead.  They lay crumpled, useless, defunct.  The vital force was fled.  A bullet or a mortar fragment had torn a hole in these frail vessels and the substance had leaked out.  The mystery of the universe had once inhabited these lolling lumps, had given each an identity, a way of walking, perhaps a special habit of address or a way with words or a knack of putting color on canvas.  They had been so different, then.  Now they were nothing, heaps of nothing.  Can a bullet or a mortar fragment do this?  Does this force, this mystery, I mean this soul - does this spill out on the ground along with the blood?  No.  It is somewhere, I know it.  For this red-and-yellow lump I look down upon this instant was once a man, and the thing that energized him, the Word that gave "to airy nothing a local habitation and a name," the Word from a higher Word - this cannot have been obliterated by a quarter-inch of heated metal.  The mystery of the universe has departed him, and it is no good to say that the riddle is solved, the mystery is over - because it has changed residences.   The thing that shaped the flare of that nostril, that broadened that arm now bleeding, that wrought so fine that limply lying hand - that thing exists still, and has still the power to flare that nostril, to bend that arm, to clench that fist exactly as it did before.  

Because it is gone you cannot say it will not return; even though you may say it has never yet returned - you cannot say that it will not.  It is blasphemy to say a bit of metal has destroyed life, just as it is presumptuous to say that because life has disappeared it has been destroyed.  I stood among the heaps of the dead and I knew - no, I felt that death is only a sound we make to signify the Thing we do not know. 

This is a profound thought written by one who, after looking at the dead; no, really, deeply looking at them, contemplates what has occurred and after deep reflection, is convinced that a piece of metal cannot destroy the "mystery of the universe" that resides within our earthly vessels, nor can a plain, brown extension cord.

Said another way, just because life has disappeared or no longer inhabits the flesh, it does not mean that it has been obliterated or destroyed.  How this works, I do not know but I believe it.

I wrote the following in my journal:

Death is not the end but rather the beginning of another beginning. 

or 

Death is not the end but the transition to another form of living.

And perhaps the living bears some responsibility for as long as our loved ones are remembered, they stay alive.   I underlined this passage from Doris Kearns Goodwin's Pulitzer Prize winning book, No Ordinary Time: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in  World War II.  This little verse, given to Eleanor by a friend after FDR's sudden death, encouraged her to "make the rest of her life worthy of her husband's memory.  As long as she continued to fight for his ideals, he would continue to live."

"They are not dead who live in lives they leave behind.  In those whom they have blessed they live a life again."

RIP Josh.
You remain alive in our hearts.

4th Annual Running to Remember Josh - March 16, 2013

It is a blessing that our annual fundraiser, connected to the Rock n Roll Half and Full Marathon occurs around the anniversary of Josh's death.  (Click here to see post of last year's run).  Instead of sadness and grief leading up to that dreaded day, we are busy and focused on raising as much money as possible for the Josh Anderson Foundation, dedicated to preventing teenage suicide.  That weekend, our normally quiet home bustled with family and friends as both Gillian and Tyler arrived, as well as their cousin and friend, and one of Lauren's friend.

It is a reunion of sorts as most of the runners are friends of Lauren and Gillian and were in our home four years ago, giving their support, comfort and love to Josh's grieving sisters.  They have been with us every step of the way and so are an extension of our family - we are so grateful.  My dear friend Roxanne  came from Atlanta: we have known each other for years; she is like Josh's second mom since her son Bryce and Josh have been best friends since birth (they were born three weeks apart).  It was great to have Rachel, Josh's special friend, run her first half-marathon in support of JAF.

New friends were made: a high school student in Charlottesville has been volunteering with JAF as part of her senior project; she came to take pictures and shoot video.  One of Lauren's sorority sisters from college dedicated her run to her older brother, who tragically took his life last fall.  

All told, over 30 runners and supporters came from all over the country: Washington DC, Colorado, New York City, Boston, MA and Atlanta/Athens, Georgia.   Due to the generous contributions of over 400 donors, we raised over $27,000 - very close to the ambitious goal of $30,000.

Read article in our local newspaper, Foundation Prepares to Promote Mental Health, to learn more about what we are doing with the money.

The date for next year's run has already been set: Saturday, March 15, 2014.  We hope more runners will join us next year!

2013 Rock N Roll Half Marathon in Washington DC

Why we are running

Lauren and Gillian on race day morning with blue flag

Runners and supporters on Constitution Ave before the start

Starting line

Mile 6 - looking good!

Tailgate afterwards

Lauren and Gillian are happy it is over!

Congrats to all runners!

Lauren's friend ran in memory of her brother who took his life last fall

Everything we do is for him...

our beloved Josh

Slideshow with more pictures:

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

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

Josh's trees

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

Reminders - September 10, 2010

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

Congratulations LHS and SLHS graduates

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

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

14 Months Later - Do You Have Any "Josh Treasures?"

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

Gone But Not Forgotten - April 25, 2010

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

Memories: Like Priceless Treasures

About two weeks after Josh died, a singing group at his high school, the South Lake Singers performed a moving song called Prayer of the Children at the SingStrong competition, which they dedicated to our son. (Click here to view the YouTube video on a previous post.)

A few weeks ago, I received an email from one of the singers who has since graduated and gone to college. With permission, both the email and essay are below.

"Although Josh and I were not close friends, I am good friends with many of the people that love him dearly and the few times that I did hang out with him I was always struck by how kind he was to everyone and in every situation. I regularly read your blog and keep your family in my thoughts. I am now in college, and for my freshman writing seminar my first assignment was to write a personal narrative. There were no constraints to the assignment, and with a lifetime of experiences behind me I did not know what to write about. So I sat down at my computer and just began to write, and the words that followed surprised me. I ended up writing about my experience performing "Prayer of the Children" with South Lakes Singers at SingStrong and your son. I know that the words I chose could never do him justice, and a stranger reading my paper would never understand just how wonderful he is and how much he did for the world, but I decided to share it with you so you would know that he touched and changed the people that were even on the very outskirts of his life."

I remember standing on that stage and experiencing the overwhelming feeling of unity. All of our heartbeats were suddenly one and we felt the steady beat pulsing through our connected fingers. It’s as if we were all tied together by one string; sixteen people who come from completely different places emotionally, mentally, and physically, that were suddenly all the same. We came together for one cause and we made our message clear.

I loved the time of day when I would get to put away my notebooks and binders, stand on the risers and hear the sounds of music circling all around me. There was nothing like singing to make me forget about anything real going on in my life and just let me focus on the intricate details of music. To feel the harmonies and dynamics take me away into a different world so separate from anything going on in my real world was a release I looked forward to each day. During my senior year of high school, my choir started working on a very memorable piece called “Prayer of the Children” by Kurt Bestor. It is so incredible and overpowering, the first time we heard it my teacher played it over the loud speakers in our class room and the music pushed through the whole room, threatening to make the walls expand. The voices jumped out of the speakers towards us, bringing with them the emotion of the whole song. After hearing the piece, I was thrilled to be able to try our hand at performing it, but I didn’t know if we would ever be able to match the intense passion with which the recorded choir sang. We had many excellent performers in my choir, but emotional connection is something we had always struggled with. We were good at singing the correct notes with the correct rhythms, but conveying the emotion and overall message of a song was foreign to most of us. We had never experienced the things that many songs are about like loss, heartbreak, or intense grief and we didn’t know how to find that place within ourselves where we would be able to fabricate those emotions to replay them through the song. Every class our teacher would try to get us to connect and understand what the true meanings of the lyrics we were singing were, but we were never able to reach that point on our own.

During my senior year of high school, a great tragedy struck my community. A beloved, talented, and incredible boy took his life very suddenly. Never in my life have I seen people so open with their emotions. To see football players break down and cry was heartbreaking but very connecting at the same time. This was, and remains, a very sad experience, one of the saddest things I’ve experienced in my life, but I strongly believe that everything happens for a reason and I knew that we would all be able to find a way to learn from it. To see everyone’s grief plainly expressed all over their faces shows how important Josh was to them as a friend and to our community as a whole. Nobody was ashamed to admit that losing Josh was a painful thing, and this reminded us all that even if it is not expressed every day, there are always people in our lives that care about us. He reminded us that even in the deepest and darkest shadows of life, we have to remember that those shadows wouldn’t be there if there was no sunlight to create them.

After Josh passed away, everyone was distraught. He was truly one of the most strikingly kind people I have ever met, and I know that he left a positive impression on everyone. He was an amazing athlete, helping our team score touchdowns every game but more significantly always keeping up a positive attitude in everything he did. To say it was shocking to find out Josh would no longer be flashing his quirky smile in the hallways is an understatement, he is missed every single day. There are clearly things we did not know; things he was aching to be helped with, things he was struggling with so hard internally. Josh’s struggle gives meaning to the lyrics:

“Can you hear the prayer of the children?

On bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room

Empty eyes with no more tears to cry

Turning heavenward toward the light”.

He gave our song a meaning.

The choral program at my high school was awesome and my teacher worked so hard to ensure that we had every opportunity available to us. Because of her efforts we were able to host the East Coast A Cappella summit, an amazing event that invites professional a cappella groups from all over the world to perform and raise money for Alzheimer’s research. Every year there is a high school competition and the winner gets to open the big show on Saturday night. It is very competitive and a huge honor for the winner to be able to stand on the same stage as legendary professional groups. My choir was preparing “The Prayer of the Children” for the summit, but after Josh passed away we questioned whether something as mundane as a choir performance was appropriate during a time of such struggle. We didn’t know if we would be able to get through it, just a week after the passing of someone who was a great friend to many of us. The words are incredibly moving:

“Can you feel the hearts of the children?

Aching for home, for something of their very own

Reaching hands, with nothing to hold on to,

But hope for a better day a better day

and are so central to Josh’s struggle, and for one of the first times we were finding an unavoidable connection between our music and our lives. Even in a time of intense sorrow and emotional pain we understood that maybe our connection to the meaning of the music could be a small way to help us deal with the passing of Josh.

Standing on the stage wearing black with Josh’s number 33 painted across our chests, gave us a physical reminder of what we would never forget: what experience brought meaning to our song. In that moment on that stage I felt like part of something bigger. In light of such a huge and devastating loss that could never be replaced, we were also creating something. A connection among us and with our audience through our music-through the powerful words, the raw emotion, the crisp rise and falls of our voices as they went from loud to soft that made goosebumps rise up on the arms of all sixteen of us singing our hearts out. And that’s literally what we were doing-letting everything go from that terrible week and finding solace in the message of the music. We all felt our voices join in the air with the loss, the anger, the grief, and our need for Josh, but in that air we also found our strength. Together we would be okay by uniting ourselves in the music and for the first time feeling a connection that not only transformed our performance of the song, but brought us together in all of our times of need.

During that performance, we sang ‘Prayer of the Children’ for the first time without a physical conductor standing in front of us guiding us through the piece. We just stood there, sixteen people who come from completely different places emotionally, mentally, and physically, that were suddenly all the same. As we all lined up on the stage and clasped hands we were ready to show what we were learning from the harsh reality we were plunged into and how it gave meaning to the words we had previously sung so mindlessly over and over again. There was no cue to start, we all just knew. We felt the music within each of us because the song was no longer just a song. It was a message, it was a connection, it was Josh.

I am so grateful that Josh's friend took the time to share this with us. Any memory of our beloved Josh is a priceless treasure - stored in my heart forever.

God Bless

Josh's Trees and Pictures at 10 Years Old

Last year, we planted my favorite tree, a pink dogwood in our front yard - for Josh. A plaque given by one of his friends, with a verse from Psalm 23 is placed nearby.




Last October, another dogwood was planted near the town's youth football field - again, in memory of Josh. You can read about it here.

I am told that it is unusual for newly planted trees to bloom in the first year. And yet, Josh's trees have done so. My grieving heart takes comfort in this small occurrence. Even though it has been over a year, it is still so very, very hard.

I will end this short post with a slideshow of pictures taken when he was 10 years old.

God Bless

Another sign - Dr. Joshi

In a previous post entitled ”Remember Me”, I had shared how the sister of one of Josh's best friends, Bryce, was planning to name her unborn daughter, Hailee, in honor of Josh, whose middle name is my maiden name, Lee.

Hailee Marie came safely into the world on February 11th and with her, another sign from Josh. I received a phone call with the good news along with the most unbelievable story. Pictures confirming this story soon followed and are posted below.

Those of us who have given birth know that the pediatrician on call is the one who will be the baby's first doctor. If an on-going pediatrician has been chosen, this doctor will see typically see the baby later that day or the next.

Hailee's first doctor's name: Dr. Joshi - I kid you not!! A couple of questions ran through my mind: How many times have I heard this last name - never. What are the chances that a Dr. Joshi would be on call at the exact hospital on the exact day that Hailee was born? Can't even imagine the probability. Could this be just a coincidence? Even harder to believe than if it were a sign.

Also, "Joshie" is the nickname that Bryce's family used for him. And, if it was a sign from Josh, it would be exactly what he would do - with a very big smirk.

So over a year later, while I have heard of a number of "signs" given to others, there are three that are firmly embedded in my heart. The first sign was last year on Easter Sunday, less than a month after he died; the second sign was only a couple of months ago, followed by Hailee's sign, two weeks later.

Despite the pain that still pierces my heart whenever I am reminded that Josh is no longer with us, these signs give me hope and peace that he is not far from those he loves.

God Bless.

Half and Full Marathon Fundraiser - March 20, 2010 - updated with You Tube video

Days leading up to race day - To be honest, the most predominant feeling was one of dread and regret. After weeks of training, I was finding that after 8 miles, it seemed like every cell in my body wanted to stop. The longest I had run was 10 miles, and both times, it was really, really, really difficult. It would be fair to say that I could barely finish. I was experiencing sharp pain in my right knee during the long runs. But the notes, letters and checks that came daily did much to encourage me to continue in the quest to run 13.1 miles.

Two days before - was the 1 year death anniversary. We had a memorial service at "Josh's park", as his grandmother calls it, and then an open house in the evening. A mother of one of Josh's closest friends provided the food. Friends traveled from all over Virginia as well as from different states to help us remember Josh and to cheer us on during the race. As I remember this day, tears of thankfulness, not sadness fill my eyes. We are so overwhelmed by all of the love and support shown to us individually and as a family.

Day before - In the morning, Lauren, Tim and I met with a program director from the Optimist Club. We were encouraged by our conversation as they have found an organization that can possibly provide the type of programs that we are looking to fund: education/awareness of teenage depression/suicide -hopefully at his two high schools. Additionally, she had run a couple of marathons and based on her experience, suggested that we ask friends or family to run the last couple of miles with us. We followed her advise and this is one of the main reasons that we were able to successfully finish the race.

Eliza came in on the bus in the afternoon and her mom flew in from a vacation in LA. It was exciting to have our team together after months of training in four different cities (Boston, NYC, Atlanta and DC). Nadine, another dear friend joined us for dinner and gave us many other useful tips as this was her third marathon. We feasted on a big pasta dinner complete with lots of bread (carb heaven!), spinach salad and wonderful desserts that were left over from our open house. A plan on how all the "cheerleaders" would get to various mile markers by using the Metro was made and distributed. We were nervous, excited and ready.

Race day - Up at 5am and out of the door by 5:45am for the 7am start. Gillian is making a documentary of this event so she interviewed us while getting ready. When asked how I was feeling, two words came to mind: nervous dread. I really did not think I could finish but was going to give it my best effort. Some may think a negative mindset would work against me. In actual fact, it was the opposite because it took the pressure off and whatever happened, happened. I would be okay with it.

It is hard to describe the energy and enthusiasm that surrounded us as we waited for the start. It was another stellar day and we all felt Josh's presence. The route took us past the the U.S. Capital, Washington Monument, White House, through Dupont Circle, Adams Morgan, Howard University and back to the start. As we ran through neighborhoods, people were on their porch, playing music from boom boxes or with actual instruments like drums and trumpets. Little girls dressed up in their cheerleading outfits and were on the streets with the parents, yelling for us to keep going. Our fans were at mile markers 3, 6, 7.5, 10 (Gillian and a friend joined us) and at the half marathon finish. Because of the blue flags, we were able to spot one another from a distance.

The girls continued and a large group of fans were at mile 17. In fact, one of Lauren's friends joined them at this time and another at mile 20. During the last mile, Gillian and her friends joined and the entire "posse" ran them in. My eyes filled up when Lauren ran by - to do this in memory and honor of her brother was moving. Apparently, the announcer had seen the blue flags and asked what they were for. He was filled in and as Lauren crossed the finish line, over the loud speaker, he mentioned how her run was dedicated to Josh.

Post race - Two days later, my legs are sore and the right knee is tender. Words I would now use to describe the day? Exciting, exhilarating, and amazing. It was such a great experience that while running, we were talking about doing this again the following year and having more people join us.

As of this post, I am delighted to report that 89 checks and $8,000 has been given - double our goal! Thanks so much to all of our supporters. Together, we can make a difference in the lives of other young people.

See YouTube Video of the day.

One of many flags that were made for this special day

In the crowd - before the start of the race

Our "cheerleaders" - using the metro to get to places along the race route

Our team at 7.5 miles.....looking good!

Crossing over the half marathon finish line!

We made it!

Lauren in the final leg of the marathon - being "run in" by a group of Gillian's friends

Eliza in the final leg - ready to get a "side five" from me

They made it!

Lauren and Eliza with their cheering section

All for our beloved Josh

Celebrating with a well-earned glass of champagne

A note from Lauren about what the day meant to her....

My new beginning.

Some of you may know but most of you not, that I have suffered the past couple months with depressed and anxious thoughts and feelings as I have not been able to come to terms with the tragic loss of my brother and comprehend his mode of death and what both have meant for my life. One of the things- among my amazing friends and family as well as professional help- that has helped me progress through this low time has been my marathon training. Even when days seemed like they could not get worse, I would force myself to get out there and keep up with my running schedule. On the weekends, instead of partying and being social as I normally would, I devoted my time to preparing, completing and recovering from my long runs of 17, 18, 19 miles. During these hours, when I was alone on the road with my thoughts, I was able to put to practice a lot of the methods and practices I was using to re-train my thought process that has taken a course of its own post-Josh’s death.

So that is why marathon day meant so much to me. Josh’s spirit with us the entire time- making the sky as blue as possible and the temperature warm but bearable. The support was uncanny and amazing- my friends and family were running all over DC (literally) to catch us with loud screams and flag waving for a split second as we ran by. But there was also hope in the air. Hope that Josh will never be forgotten, that his death will not go in vain and especially necessary for me, hope that there still is life out there to be lived. There is a life that must be filled with relationships that withstand all adversity, love that endures even when it seems impossible and perseverance to take every day as it comes. Thank you to everyone who was there to support us- I know that I most definitely could not have run 26.2 miles without all of you there. Thank you Josh for watching over us that day and everyday. And thank you God for giving me the hope to get through this and live a much more fulfilled life on the other side.

God Bless

Half and Full Marathon Fundraiser

On a previous post, I shared about the decision to join my daughter in running the first half of a marathon on March 20th - in dedication and memory of Josh. How is the training going? I am in my 6th week and up until yesterday, I would have said, "pretty well, considering I am not a runner". Maybe I've hit a mid-training wall, if there is such a thing. Or maybe, due to an emotional and sad day on Friday, instead of the suggested 11 miles, I could only do 3. It could also be that I've had to run indoors on a treadmill for the past 5 weeks - which gets very boring. All that to say, I am now finding the training difficult.

I am also questioning the sanity of doing something as physically exhausting as this race, two days after Josh's 1 year death anniversary. It is not only the expected tears on the day, but I have heard from other moms in my situation that the days leading up to the 1 year are even worse than the day of. This makes sense to me because even now I think, A year ago, he was alive and we were doing this, that and the other - totally oblivious to the impending doom. I liken it to being on a train, either reading, working or sleeping, and completely unaware that the track ahead is broken with an inevitable crash set to occur.

My memories of Josh are the most vivid during the few days before March 18th or "doomsday". So it stands to reason that these will be very difficult. All of us who knew Josh those last days have a moment or interaction that was the last time we saw him alive. Whatever day that was might be hard for you too. Maybe you will be like me and think, if I could only jump back in time, say something at the key moment, or do something that would stop the chain of events leading up to his fatal decision and suicide. And like me, you realize, there is nothing that can be done. All of the "would have, should have and could haves" will not reverse his tragic death.

So on the day of the race, hopefully I will find the energy needed to finish, for that, and not a specific time, is my goal. Lauren and her best friend and running partner, Eliza have decided to add more motivation by using the race as a fundraiser for Josh's Memorial fund. Below is the solicitation and information for the check, if you should wish to make a donation.

Dear Friends,

On March 20^th, 2010, we will lace up our running shoes and test our endurance as participants in the Sun Trust National Marathon in Washington, D.C. While two members of our team have entered to run the half marathon course and two plan to run the full marathon, each one of us do so for the same reason: to commemorate the life of Joshua Lee Anderson, one who is missed every day by his family and friends. We remember Josh as a cherished son, a cool little brother, a faithful friend and a natural athlete. And while nothing can bring this amazing boy back to us, we will remember and honor him by training for, and running in, the National Marathon.

On March 18^th, 2009, Josh tragically took his own life at the age of 17. A year later, we want to take this special opportunity to perpetuate his legacy and the education/prevention of teen suicide by asking family and friends to sponsor our team in this race. All contributions will go to the Josh Anderson Memorial Fund, held at the Great Falls Optimist Club in Great Falls, Virginia. Over the past year, Josh’s Fund has already raised almost $4,000 by way of generous donors.

Through your sponsorship, it is our hope to contribute another $4,000 dollars to the Josh Anderson Memorial Fund to match what has already been collected. Any donation you give in support of our Marathon run, whether large or small, will go towards helping us meet this goal.

With your support and Josh’s spirit cheering us on, we will find the strength to cross the race’s finish line.

Sincerely,

Lauren Anderson and Eliza Bailey (Marathon Runners)

Sue Anderson and Susan Bailey (Half Marathon Runners)

Please make your tax deductible check payable to: Great Falls Optimist Club with Josh Anderson Memorial Fund in the memo line. Mail checks to: Sue Anderson 1300 Carpers Farm Way Vienna, VA 22182.

Please include a return address and an e-mail address – this is so we can send a recognition letter for tax deduction purposes.

Thank you and God Bless

"JA"

Since Josh's passing, my mindset has changed about a number of things. One example is tattoos. I never really understood why someone would want to mark their body in that fashion. However, this past weekend, I accompanied one of Josh's friends as she got a "JA" tattoo on her arm, in memory of our son. She used the letters from a note that he had given to her, so the tattoo is in his handwriting.

I am not sure what I expected, but the place was clean and neat. Photo albums depicted real-life samples: all black, color, large, small, lettering, animals, NFL teams, flowers, etc. The variety was amazing.

The artists that we met were passionate about their work. Very knowledgeable and followed such strict hygiene protocol, it reminded me of being in a doctor's office. Since it was the first time for Josh's friend, the standard warnings that some people faint or get sick was a bit nerve-wracking, but in fact, the tattoo took less than five minutes and did not seem to bother her at all. This was the experience of our daughter as well, who got a "JLA" tattoo on her arm, shortly after his death. You can see this tattoo as well as a couple of others from Josh's friends on the side bar of the blog, under "Original Art".

While I wanted to go and provide moral support, I had an ulterior motive as I, too, have been thinking about getting a tattoo on my arm. His name, his handwriting, taken from the final note which had two short sentences and "Josh". Small and easily covered by my watch, when needed. But in a place where I can see it. Another way to have my beloved boy with me, everywhere I go.

Photos are posted, with her permission.

I think Josh would be flattered. But why are we having to do this in the first place? No matter where I turn, the unanswerable"why" question is always there.

God Bless