Tuesday - Last Day

The way the calendar marks time makes things confusing when a certain day of the week, not the date, is significant. I found Josh on a Wednesday morning, around 10am, on my way out the door for a client meeting. I was dressed in a gray suit which has since been given away - I can't look at it, much less wear it. I was by myself, which is one of the things that I can't understand. Why me? Why not Tim and I together? I don't know the answer except that maybe it was meant to be. I carried this child in my body for nine months, gave birth and was the one to be with him at the end.

So tonight, Tuesday, a year ago, is the last time we saw our son alive.

The day was uneventful, so I cannot remember specifics. I am sure that Josh slept in as he was suspended from school and didn't need to get up at "O dark hundred" like all of the other high school students in our area. I don't remember having dinner together, although I am sure that we did. I do remember his girlfriend coming over; in fact, he walked out to her car to get notes for a history test that he needed to take the next day. He seemed relaxed; not tense, angry or upset.

I left for a couple of hours to visit with my cousin and her family who were visiting DC. In the meantime, Tim and Josh were watching TV, playing with and laughing at the dogs, and just relaxing. He was even doing his laundry.

What kid does his laundry and gets notes to study for a test when he knows that nothing will matter once the night is over?

I came home, don't really remember when, but when I was ready to go to bed, around 12:30am, he was watching "House." I said something like, "I'm going upstairs, so time for bed." He obediently turned off the TV and followed me up to our rooms. We said good-night as usual and that was that. I wish I had hugged him and told him I loved him, no matter what. But this was not his way. Josh was a very affectionate baby, toddler and little boy, but as he grew older, he was uncomfortable with any physical affection. But I should have hugged him anyway.

After receiving the news about Josh's suicide from their dad, our three older children came home that day, and stayed for 10 days after. Our oldest, Tyler, was brave enough to look through the history on Josh's computer and his iPod to try and reconstruct what he was doing that night. It appears that he watched almost 3 hours of You Tube videos. When I first heard this, my heart dropped as I thought, "what was he watching?" As it turns out, it mainly silly videos and then, towards the end, the videos became a little weirder and somewhat apocalyptic.

There was also a playlist on his ipod called the "final playlist" that he listened to that night. Strange, Tyler found it on his iPod but not on the Mac. We think he listened to it on the computer, then deleted it, but not from his iPod - maybe he forgot.

I have been reading 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. They were able to give a written survey to over 5,000 teenagers (15-16 years old), in which they asked questions about deliberate self-harm, be it actions or thoughts. 13% had engaged in self-harm behavior at some point in their young lives. Almost 7% within the previous year with another 15% reported having thoughts of self-harm but did not act on it.

Compared to the general population, the percentages quoted above are high. Therefore, the researchers theorize: "The relatively high prevalence figures for deliberate self-harm and thoughts of self-harm in adolescents suggest that such behavior and/or thoughts may not always indicate severe pathology but for some adolescents may indicate a period of transient distress" (pg. 47).

When one speaks of the suicide of a loved one, there is an immediate response, "Was he/she depressed?" or "How long was he/she depressed?" Tim and I struggle with this question as Josh did not appear depressed. Additionally, he had been seeing a counselor who specialized in treating adolescents and not once, did he suggest that Josh be treated for depression. "Transient distress" - this sounds more like what Josh was suffering from.

One of the more relevant discoveries from the study involves the question of the time spent thinking about self-harm behavior before acting on it. In other words, is the act impulsive or premeditated?

Based on this survey, "43.2% had thought about it for less than an hour, 13.1% had thought about it less than a day, 12.1% for less than a week, 9.3% for less than a month" (pg. 57). All told, over half had thought about it less than one day and 68% had thought about it less than one week. The conclusion, simply stated, is this: "the shortness of the period of premeditation involved in many acts of deliberate self-harm means that there is often little time for preventive intervention once planning has begun" (pg. 57).

Moreover, the researchers noted that underneath the impulsivity was a more fundamental issue: a deficiency in problem solving skills. "When an individual who lacks problem-solving skills is faced by an apparently insurmountable problem and consequent distress, they may act rapidly by doing something that will provide immediate relief" (pg. 74).

This seems to be borne out when kids were asked to choose the reason why they engaged in deliberate self-harm behavior within the past year. They had eight motives and could choose more than one, if applicable. The most frequently chosen motive was "I wanted to get relief from a terrible state of mind" at 73%.

When asked if they tried to get help, over half said "no". The most prevalent reason was that they did not need or want the help. Other reasons were that they didn't think the problem was serious enough or felt they should deal with the problem themselves.

The findings in this study resonate with me. Josh did not have good coping skills. He had a hard time expressing himself verbally and instead, just got mad and quiet. I could see improvement in this area, from the work done with his counselor, but it was not enough. That night, as he thought about the impending School Board hearing in which he would be expelled, Josh was backed into a corner where he did not see any solution (at least acceptable to him) and so he quite literally, eliminated the problem....himself.

How does a 17-year old kid get to this point? How does their mind go to a place where self destruction is the answer? There has to be a break with reality for no one in their right mind could do this to themselves. Everything that is real and part of the rational mind such as love of family and friends, must be shut out of the irrational mind that has taken over the body. Did Josh really want to die, or was death just the solution to the insurmountable problem? Why couldn't he have chosen a non-fatal solution, one that he could recover from? The saying about suicide rings true: "A permanent solution to a temporary problem."

Perhaps the most haunting question is posed at the end of the 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).

Last weekend, four of Josh's friends were home for Spring Break and came to visit. These boys told me how much they still missed Josh and wished that he was with us. They pray for us often - especially as the 1 year anniversary was approaching. It was touching to hear them share these thoughts. They also recounted stories from the time spent together, many of which were during sleepovers. I end this post with one fond memory - of him coming over with his sleeping bag and his "Josh-asaurus" pillow.



Rest in peace, my dear, dear son. We love and miss you so very much. We will never forget you.

God Bless

A Year Ago - Josh Was Still Alive

During the past few days, at various times, my mind starts and finishes this sentence. "A year ago, Josh was doing _____." Or "a year ago, we were doing _____." Remembering the last days that he was alive is tough and painful.

Last year, on Saturday, March 14, 2009, Josh took the SAT's at a high school in Loudoun County. He could not take them in Fairfax County as he had been suspended and could not set foot on Fairfax County Public School (FCPS) property. A few weeks after his death, his scores came in the mail. When I saw the envelope, it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach - another reminder of our loss.

How did he do? This is what is so baffling. As compared to the average SAT scores of college bound seniors in 2008, Josh scored as well in Writing (490 vs 494 ave.), better in Critical Reading (530 vs. 502) and much higher in Math (620 vs. 515). In fact, this math score was better than 80% of college bound seniors the previous year.

I only bring this up to say, how can a kid take a four-hour college entrance exam on a Saturday morning and be dead by his own hand only four days later? When I say that going over everything in my mind those last few days does not reveal any clues about the impending doom, this is what I mean.

A year ago today, Tim and I took Josh to see an attorney. Someone who "specialized" in youth incidences that involved the school system. We had a disheartening discussion as she confirmed what we had felt; this was Josh's second offense and in school system with a Zero Tolerance policy, two strikes meant out. We did talk about alternatives with the attorney so Josh knew we were already looking at other school options for him.

We drove in two cars as Tim had another appointment after this meeting. Josh drove back with me. It was a quiet ride. He put his chair all the way back and closed his eyes. What did I do? Bit my tongue so I wouldn't yell at him because I really wanted to. I was mad at him - for making dumb choices that got him (and us) in this situation. Mad that he did not learn from his mistakes. Mad that he was making a mess of things again. I didn't say anything because I knew he felt bad and sorry. And that if he could, he would've done anything to change the situation. In retrospect, I'm glad I kept my mouth shut for if I had yelled at him, I am sure the guilt would be exponentially worse.

But as I think back on this time, why didn't I say something else? To let him know it would be alright? That his dad and I would stick by him and help him any way that we could? That we would get through it together. That although it is horrible to be expelled from school, "this too shall pass". And that some good could come out of it. What really haunts me is this: could he have been thinking those dark and fatal thoughts at this time? During our silent car ride?

When we got home, he pulled himself together and actually completed four homework assignments. So again, why would a kid do this if he knew there would be no point? If he was certain that in 48 hours, he would be dead? You see, Josh was the type of person that if it was not going to make a difference, he would not do it.

So a year ago, Monday night, he was alive. We ate dinner and talked about the upcoming School Board Hearing which none of us were looking forward to. His counselor was going to attend and be an advocate as well as a buffer for Josh, in case the hearing officers became hostile, like they had done previously.

He seemed okay; albeit resigned to what was going to happen. We all were. Sometimes I think back to that dinner and ask myself - why didn't I just say, "Forget FCPS. We are not going to the hearing. We are not going to subject our son that that kind of treatment. We are going to figure it out without them." I would say and do this now. But back then, this option did not even enter my mind. I wish it had. Would he still be alive now?

"Hindsight is 20/20" is a true saying and in my case, a cruel one.

Tomorrow, Tuesday, a year ago, is the last day that Tim and I saw our beloved Josh alive.

Pictures of Josh on friend's cell phones

God Bless

My "Josh" tattoo - March 13, 2010

When we walked in for our appointment today, the place was buzzing with activity. Three artists were busy working on tattoos that were as varied as the people getting them. A high school girl accompanied by her friend and mother, and two others, male and female, probably in their late 20's. I was with two of Josh's friends, one of which was also getting a tattoo, in memory of him.

Josh's friend wanted his initials, "JLA" in light grey. I brought samples of his written work, as his friend wanted it in his writing.

For my tattoo, Josh left a very short note on that fateful night, with two sentences and his name. "Josh", possibly the last thing he ever wrote is what I wanted on the inside of my left forearm; small enough where I could hide it under my watch if needed, but still in a place where I could see it.

Getting ready - my pulse had quickened and sweat beads were forming on my brow. I must not be the only customer that experiences this, as a strategically placed fan was turned on by the artist, when he saw my discomfort.

I could not watch the procedure. And, contrary to other's experience, this did sting!

My beloved son's name, written on the night that he died, etched not only in my heart, but now on my skin.

"Pre-Josh", I would have never set foot in a tattoo place. But neither would I be writing on a blog. Or training for and running in a half marathon, which happens in less than a week. I've learned that "all bets are off" when you lose a child. The inconceivable has occurred, at which point, to deal with the loss, sorrow and grief, anything is possible.

I have also learned that grieving is personal. What helps one person deal with their loss may not be sufficient or appropriate for someone else. No matter how well meaning, it is not helpful to judge or criticize how someone grieves the loss of a loved one. The only exception I can think of, is if self-harming behavior is the result.

Grieving is also complicated, especially in the case of a suicide. And it is a lonely journey that must be taken to arrive on the "other" side - peace and acceptance. I have to admit, that almost a year into this "grief journey", I do not feel any closer to experiencing peace. I have to believe it will come but do not know when. Nor do I have any expectations. When you love someone as deeply and thoroughly as a mother does a child, how can there be a timetable?

So I continue to take one day at a time for this is all I can do. And I keep ending my posts with the same truth - Josh's tragic and sudden death has been more bearable due to the love, support, thoughts and prayers that we continue to receive.

God Bless

Surviving Suicide

Our daughter has recently attended a survivors of suicide support group in Atlanta at which those who lost fiance, parent, son, daughter, sibling, friend to suicide gathered. It was very emotional as these survivors shared their thoughts, feelings, pain and grief. One young lady is just like our daughter: one of four children where the youngest, a brother, took his life. One marked difference however, which I see as tragedy upon tragedy. She said that all of her friends have abandoned her.

Our daughter was shocked and immediately thought of herself. "What if my friends did that? How could I ever get through or "survive" this horrible loss?" It prompted her, upon returning home, to email her closest friends a note of thanks for being there: supporting, encouraging and loving her through the past 12 months.

As I shared this with Tim, we shook our heads with incomprehension. We felt sadness and sympathy for this young lady who is trying to make sense of a devastating loss and marveled at how our experience has been completely different. We have felt nothing but the highest level of support from the community, work colleagues and friends. And very important to me, Josh's friends.

I shudder to think what it would be like if we felt shunned or judged because of what Josh did to himself. One of the reasons that I think we are doing "as well as can be expected" is because of the love, thoughts, and prayers still being received. Our half/full marathon run has raised over $3,000 so far. The letters and notes that accompany the generous checks are full of support and encouragement. We hope to well exceed our goal of $4,000. This keeps me going on the challenging 10 mile runs that are part of my training.

And as each day goes by, I hear of more of ours and our children's friends who plan to be with us over that weekend. To remember Josh: tell stories, laugh, cry and just be together. It makes what would be an unbearable 1 year anniversary something to share with those who love and miss our beloved boy.

I have visited with several of Josh's friends in the past couple of weeks. One is organizing a "black out" on March 18th at school (participating students wear black to remember Josh). Another said that several of his friends have approached the principal to ask if an empty chair could be placed in what would have been Josh's seat at graduation. "Yes" was the answer, with our permission. When asked, all I could do was nod in affirmation as the tears rolled down.

I received an email from another of his friends who sent a copy of her well researched and thought out position paper for English/Government titled: "The Zero-Tolerance Policy in Schools Is Not Effective". I am encouraged to see students study, think about and write about policies that affect themselves and classmates. And in our case, a tragic and senseless loss of a young, vibrant life which was directly linked to such a policy.

A few weeks ago, I visited Josh and found this letter to him. With permission, this is what it said:

Josh,

I don't know where to begin. There's so much to say. I wish you were still here so badly I can't describe it. It's incredible how much your passing has affected us all. I wish that so much had been different, but most of all I wish you were still alive. I feel like I could have been so much of a better friend to you. I am sorry that you didn't have enough reason in your eyes to stay with us. I miss you always & forever. I hope that wherever your are, you are happier now then you were on earth.

I feel the same way as what is penned in this heartfelt note by a young friend.

I speak for Tim and each one of our children when I say that without the love, support, encouragement and prayers from family and friends, we could not bear our loss.

Thank you and God Bless

Plans For the 1 Year Anniversary - March 18, 2010

In a few short weeks, the one year anniversary of Josh's death will be upon us. So hard to believe it has been almost a year. Still so hard to believe that he is gone. With the input of our children and his close friends, we have a plan for the weekend. If you would like to remember Josh with us, please feel free to attend whatever works into your schedule.

Thursday, March 18th

3pm Memorial Time at Fairfax Memorial Park. Beltway (495 south) to Braddock Road West. Right on Burke Station Road. Right into the park. 2nd left at the Garden of Prayer. Park along the road. Josh's grave site on the right.

5pm Open House afterwards for anyone who would like to hang out, tell stories about Josh and just be together. At our home: 1300 Carpers Farm Way. Vienna, VA 22182

Saturday, March 20th

7am - 12 Sun Trust National Half and Full Marathon fundraiser. Click here for directions and information for spectators. We welcome supporters to help us get to the finish line!

5pm Memorial time at Josh's grave site for those who were not able to come on Thursday.

6:30pm Last fundraiser at the Buffalo Wings Factory in Reston.

Words cannot express how much the love, support and prayers have meant to our family as we attempt to navigate life without our beloved Josh.

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

11 Months Later - February 18, 2010

For some reason, these blog posts have become more and more difficult to write. Is it because the raw, open pain that desperately needed an outlet has lessened to an ever present throb that I must learn to live with on a daily basis? Or is it because when I sit down to write a post, I must face my feelings about Josh's tragic suicide and right now, it is easier to just watch TV and work on my "Footprints" cross stitch pattern. Or read a book. Or work on my photo scanning project. Even cleaning the house, doing the laundry, running or working are more preferable than facing my feelings.

Strange - a few months ago, my feelings and thoughts were in constant need of expression, whether via my journal or this blog. A dormant writer emerged from the overwhelming depths of pain, sorrow, guilt and grief. These days, the well has run dry. The budding writer has retreated. My mind is blank when sitting at the computer. For what else is there to say?

All the questions that went round and round in my head after finding our beloved Josh no longer alive are still there - no answers have been found. How are we dealing with this unbearable loss? "One day at a time" remains our motto. How is my heart? It is still broken. Has it become easier to accept his premature death? No, it is still unbelievable.

Grieving over the death of a child for a period of months is mentally and emotionally exhausting. I feel empty. Like someone has popped a balloon and all that is left is a small piece of elastic material. Any energy I have is reserved for getting through each day: working, keeping up with the house, training for the upcoming half marathon, and being there for our surviving children. After that, there is nothing left.

Maybe my mind and heart have needed a "break" as after today, time will be marching on toward the 1 year anniversary of Josh's death - March 18th, 2010. All three of our children will be home and I hear friends from out-of-town plan to travel to be with us. I would like to do something special, but have not gotten very far in making plans for when I start thinking about this day, all I can do is cry.

Our lives were completely shattered when Josh decided to leave us. It is hard recovering from something like this. Thank you for continuing to remember us in your thoughts and prayers. We do feel them and it does help.

God Bless

Triggered Memories - February 10, 2010

Memories of Josh are triggered by various things. For example, walking into an American Eagle shop with my daughter the other day, and looking at the various items for boys, brought a lump to my throat. I couldn't get out fast enough.

We live in the Washington DC area and are being bombarded with snow. "Snowmageddon" is what they are calling it. Kids have been and will continue to be home from school for days. "You know who would've like all this snow and no school," I said to my husband the other night. Of course, I meant Josh. He was not particularly fond of school, except for the social aspect of it and would've liked having all of these snow days. Boy, he's really missing out, I say to myself while trying not to think of where his physical body lies.

We have two dogs, Buddy and Benji, who had a special relationship with our boy. The other night, while Tim and I were watching TV, they were on each end of the couch with their heads laying comfortably on the armrests. We had to get a picture because it reminded us of when Josh and Gillian were little and did the very same thing. I have posted the pictures below.





What I feel now is a dull ache and an underlying, perpetual sadness. Josh's death is not so much in the forefront of my mind but resides within the second or third layer of conscious thought. What was once a raw, open wound feels scabbed over, but still sore and vulnerable. I suppose this is the mind and heart's way of coping and trying to move forward.

Sometimes, though, while getting a cup of tea before sitting back down at my computer for work, it hits me. How could he be gone? Why did he do this? Why couldn't he have survived that dark night? Why didn't I do or say more? How could we not have known he was contemplating suicide? And I am right back to feeling the guilt, sorrow and pain - over 10 months later.

But then I realize that nothing I do or say can change what has happened. No amount of tears will bring our beloved Josh back. It is a tragic event that has occurred within our family and we have to find a way to cope, integrating it into the fabric of our lives and move on. One step at time. One day at a time. Helped by the love, support and prayers of extended family and friends.

God Bless.

A Sign From iPhoto?

Gillian has been coming home on the weekends from college to earn a bit of money working as a youth league basketball referee/scorekeeper. We like having her home as the house is too quiet otherwise. Last night, I was at my desk working when she came downstairs saying in a somewhat strained voice, "Mom, you have to look at this." My stomach dropped a bit, not knowing what I would see. Another note from Josh? A picture that I haven't seen? Another reminder of our painful loss?

What she showed me took my breath away. On her Mac, she had been working in the iPhoto program, where you can "tag" someone's face, name it and iPhoto will suggest other photos they might be in. Once tagged, it is a clever way to find all the pictures with that person in it.

She was working on tagging all photos of Josh. Below is the screenshot of what she wanted to show me. Above the black bar are all the tagged pictures of Josh. Then the words: "Josh may also be in the photos below". It is a bit difficult to see on the first screenshot, but the second shows the photo is one of angels on the side of the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, France.




We both stared at the screen, shaking our heads and wondered how this could be. Being a novice Mac user myself, I asked her, "Have you ever seen something like this before?" Gillian, who has thousands of picture on her computer and works with iPhoto regularly, answered emphatically, "Never, no way! This has never happened."

Just two weeks ago, at Josh's grave site, on his 18th birthday, I asked him to let us know he was okay.

Thank you, Josh for giving us this sign and letting us know you are now our guardian angel.

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

January's Fundraiser at BWF

Many thanks to everyone who came to the fundraiser at the Buffalo Wings Factory where the manager has graciously allowed us to gather on each anniversary month of Josh's passing. 10% of the receipts are donated to his fund at the Great Falls Optimist Club. It helps to have something like this to look forward to; a gathering of friends who knew, love and miss Josh - just as we do.

This past Monday was particularly poignant as it was two days after his 18th birthday. In fact, the manager presented a photo cake to us, in memory of our beloved boy.

Here is a photo collage made by one of Josh's football coaches, up on the wall, along with other sports paraphernalia.

At these fundraisers, it is wonderful to see our friends, but in particular, my heart is lifted in being with Josh's friends. They are full of life, energy and hope for the future. College applications are done and they now must wait for the decision letters. It is an exciting time, but also a bit scary and unnerving. I feel privileged when taken into their confidence and feelings are shared. They have been there for me; in whatever way I can, I would like to be there for them.

These kids remember Josh in their own ways. I have shared in another post how one of his friends wore #33 during the football season - in dedication to Josh. Another friend ended up being a walk-on football player at JMU this past fall and since #33 was already taken, chose the next closest number.

Another friend was able to get his number for the basketball season. I know Josh would get a kick out of this picture. They had that kind of relationship.

Even when writing this post, I am amazed at how much our Josh was loved. Makes his choice and subsequent action even more senseless. How does a kid get to that point? I don't know but hope that any other young person who might be toying with idea of self-annihilation, would look past their own pain and realize there is a vast network of loving people to help, support and guide them to life. I wish Josh had known this. It is too late for him, but hopefully not for anyone else who has witnessed the impact of his life and death.

God Bless

10 Months Later - January 18, 2010

Has it been ten months already? On the one hand, it does not seem possible, but on the other, it does, as my mind flips through the calendar of time.

• March 18 - the day Josh left us
• May - Lauren's graduation from college
• July - vacation
• September - start of school and football season
• November - Thanksgiving
• December - Christmas and New Year
• January 16 - his 18th birthday
  

Yes, he was missing at all of these events.

Then I think of what we've done because he is gone.

• The funeral service and burial
  
• Picking out his gravestone
  
• Regular visits to the cemetery or " Josh's Park" as my mother calls it
• The monthly fundraisers at the Buffalo Wings Factory
• A photo scanning project that has overtaken my dining room
• The dogwood tree planting at the youth league football field
• My "jandermom" email address
• New license plates for our cars
• Accruing a mini library with titles like Grieving a Suicide or No Time to Say Good-bye or By Their Own Young Hand: Deliberate Self-harm and Suicidal Ideas in Adolescents
  
• Three filled journals
• White christmas tree

So strange that a year ago, I was completely oblivious to the impending doom. Josh had just turned seventeen years old, was acclimated to his new school, had a girlfriend and was seeing a counselor which helped in his communication with us....things seemed to be pretty good.

Never, ever, in a million years would I guess what would transpire within two months. That Josh would smoke pot again, be caught at school which enforces a strict Zero-Tolerance policy, face expulsion, and choose to take his own life - the day before the School Board hearing. It is like a nightmare that replays over and over again.

Everyone in our family is traumatized. How could we not be? Totally and completely blind-sighted with no warning or time to prepare emotionally. One minute, we were living normal lives, then the unthinkable happened: I found our Josh dead. Gone. Never to see, hear or touch again. He took himself out with no explanation and left a boatload of unanswerable questions.

Ten months later, we continue to reel - trying to come to terms with this most incredible, horrific event. How do we live with his death? How do we live in spite of his death? How do we go forward with our lives - without him? I think of it like being at a rest stop while on a family vacation. We have to get in the car to keep going but Josh cannot continue with us - at least in a physical form.

After a number of conversations with our daughter, who is having a particularly hard time right now, I wrote this in my journal.

Everything has caught up with her. She has to stop and think about how she feels regarding her brother's death and how to incorporate "it" - Josh's suicide, his tragic, sudden and senseless death and our subsequent loss into her young life. And as much as she'd like to bury and ignore everything, "it" must be faced and dealt with. "It" is life changing; she will never be the same, none of us will. I think this is part of grieving, to process not only losing Josh, but a part of our family and a part of ourselves - very overwhelming and difficult.

In addition, feelings surrounding the mode of death are complicated - in comparison to say, an illness or accident. In these situations, one can say, "my son died by X disease" or "he had cancer" or "he was in a car accident". In our case, "he committed suicide" or "he died by his own hand" or "he decided to take his life" brings up questions with no known answers. Even after ten months, I cannot think of one thing he said, did or didn't do that could have alerted us to his fatal mindset.

For all family members who lose a child, at whatever age, the grief is immeasurable. But when it is via suicide, processing this death is more challenging. The waters are muddy, the way is unclear, the path like a maze. One question leads to ten others. None with answers. So because the reason for death is unclear, there is no resolution. Feelings include the expected sorrow and grief, but also a tremendous amount of guilt and even a little anger. Difficult terrain to navigate for a middle-aged mother, much less for siblings who are 19, 22 and 24 years old or friends who are 17 or 18 years old.

As well, we've not had to deal with death prior to this as both sets of grandparents are living. Even our pets have survived Josh. A distant concept has become a living reality. The shadow of death is an unbidden and unwelcome presence - constant, relentless, and unmerciful. Permeating conscious, subconscious and unconscious thoughts. Casting a permanent grey cloud over previously sunny skies. Poking its head in our dreams and thoughts while causing a general feeling of malaise. Unshakable. Unlike guests that eventually leave, death and all of its partners (grief, sorrow, pain, etc) have taken up permanent residence and we have to figure out how to live with them. "One day at a time" is my motto and mantra.

Josh did not understand the far-reaching consequences of his actions - I am sure of this. For if he could see even 1/100th of the pain we are in, he could not have gone through with it.

Rest in peace, my dear boy. We love and miss you with all of our hearts and promise that as we move forward with our lives, we will take you with us.

God Bless

Happy 18th Birthday - January 16, 2010

I have been dreading this day and now it is here. Just typing the title causes my eyes to fill with tears. What can I say? What is there to say? Nothing really, except that I wish with all of my heart that Josh were still here. To be celebrating his 18th birthday with his family and friends, not with balloons on his grave stone saying "Happy 18th Birthday."

If he were still alive, what would we be doing? Those that knew him could attest that he did not like parties where he would be the center of attention. In fact, the last birthday party that I was allowed to organize was his 13th. How could I know that there would only be four more?

Below is a slideshow of photos from Josh's birthdays, beginning with the wonderful day he came into our family.



My dear friend, Roxanne and her son have flown in today to be with us. We went to visit Josh with arms full of balloons, flowers and photos. When we got there, we found a letter to Josh from one of his friends. Tim and I were moved by the sentiments expressed. With his permission, this is what it said:

Dear Josh,
Hey, your birthday is on Saturday so I have come to visit you. I think about you all the time. You were a great friend, who always looked out for people who needed it, especially me. We were very close for a good while, and I considered you one of the most important people in my life. I miss you so much, and I am so sorry for whatever situation led to your final act. However, I feel your death has helped so many people realize what they have in this life. I am so thankful to you for making me more appreciative and grateful for everything. I pray for you and your family often, and I hope your soul has found a peaceful place to rest. I will never forget you and everything you meant to me.

Love,
Your friend,
Always,
Kas

We spent a good amount of time decorating "Josh's tree" with photos that Roxanne had laminated, laying rose petals on the grass and positioning his balloons. Below are pictures of our handiwork. As Rox said, "Anyone who sees this will see a much loved soul". I agree.










Josh,
We love and miss you so much, especially on this day. Do you like the balloons? One is from Grandpa and Grandma. And Gillian thought you would like the dog with the shades. I will never know why you felt that leaving us was your only option and I confess that this question haunts me every day. I wish you could have understood how important you were to so many people. Maybe if you had realized this, it would have saved you. Please watch over us as it is still so very hard. We take one day at a time - it's the only thing we can do. I pray you are at peace, my beloved son. One day, we will be together again.

Love,
Mom

Running Half Marathon: March 20, 2010

On a previous post, Josh's sister wrote about running a marathon in memory of Josh. And it just so happens that the National Marathon is being held in Washington DC on March 20, 2010. Fitting as this is only two days after the anniversary of his death.

I enjoy working out, and even teach a few aerobics classes a week at a local gym, but am not a runner. I get bored easily and have always found the monotony of running something to be endured, not enjoyed. But in the past few months, to mix up my own work-out, I've begun running once a week. It is not much, but enough to have my daughter ask if I would consider signing up for the half marathon and running the first part with her.

In the past, I would've laughed and said, "Are you crazy?" However, things are different now. The thought of being in training during the weeks leading up to the "one year" mark is appealing. To do this in memory of Josh, with his sister, something hard and challenging - feels right.

One small caveat. In order to sign up for this race, you have to post a qualifying time in another race, like a 5k. "How long is a 5k?" I ask my daughter. "It is 3.1 miles and you have to run at least a 10 minute mile or within 31 minutes", she replies. So I sign up for an outdoor race called the Christmas Caper which ended up being canceled due to a huge snowstorm that hit the day before. Probably a good thing as running on a freezing, cold morning might have done me in.

Next try is an indoor track meet at a local middle school on a weekend morning. I did not know what to expect and was surprised to see children, teens, and adults of varying ages. "People do this for fun? Why?" says my thought bubble.

The 5k was the last race and I was there with about 20 other runners. 25 laps around. As I look around, I notice that I am the only one with an IPod. This should have alerted me to what I was in for. Start gun goes off and I can tell my pace is faster than a 10 minute mile. But very quickly, I find myself at the end of the pack and not only that, people are passing me because they are 1, 2, 3 or 4 laps ahead! I am the last one to finish and get a sprinkling of applause when done. I clocked a 27.40 minute time, well within the time needed to qualify which was good enough for me.

So I now have a calendar with my running goals and only hope that I can get acclimated to running longer distances. It is not so easy to coax an older body to get used to the constant pounding on the joints. And with all that has happened, I feel as though I have aged 10 years in the past ten months.

One of my daughter's college friends is running the full race with her and I hear her mother may be interested in running the half with me.

If any others are interested, please join us. We would love to have you. In memory of Josh.

God Bless

My Journal - My Friend

In the post Writing To Heal, I share how the act of writing has become a life preserver for me, saving my life. This was written at the end of August, and four months and three major holidays later (Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year), it is still the case - even more so. And as I look to the future, with Josh's 18th birthday on the horizon (January 16th) and the ever looming one year anniversary date on March 18th, I suspect that without my new friend, I would not survive.

My journal writing over the years has been sporadic and if I look back on the entries, very boring. Pretty much a list of activities done by myself or members of my family. Not much color or emotion.

Since Josh's death, I have already filled three blank books. Thoughts, questions, emotions and feelings such as hurt, pain, sorrow, and grief are scribbled in these pages. I am doing a lot of reading and as I journal through the books, it helps me to remember what I've read, and internalize key thoughts and ideas.

For example, I can relate to the author of The Suicide Index. Joan Wickersham was already out of the home, married with a child when her father shot himself. Fifteen years after his death, she began penning this memoir. She ponders over the same questions that I have.

What was it about him that made him add up the reasons and come up with dying as the right answer? Had he been adding up reasons? Was it possible to arrange rational causes in a column and arrive at an irrational result? Was his death a rational act, or an irrational one? Was his suicide a decision he made, or a force beyond his power to control? Did he have a choice? If so, then he did something unforgivable. If not, then how can we blame him? (69, 229)

I read this book quickly, with my customary underlining, writing in margins and dog-earring the pages that speak to me. Let's just say that I would not be able to resell this book or even give it away. After finishing, I set it down for a few days. Then came back, re-read what I marked, and opened up my journal. This is what I wrote about the above quote:

First of all, will I be obsessed with these questions fifteen years from now? I hope not, but knowing me, I probably will be. "Queen Analyzer" - that could be my middle name. It is like taking a thread - a question or thought and following it to where it leads. Problem is, the answer is unknown, or if it could be known, it is complicated. Cannot be one answer. Someone cannot commit self-murder as the result of a simple answer - like he was a teenage, impulsive, spur of the moment, wasn't thinking, his brain was not fully developed. Too neat, like an accident. Cannot explain an accident, it just happens. Unavoidable. Chance. Nothing could be done. I am therefore absolved of all guilt as a mother of a child who committed suicide. Sorry, I can't accept this. I cannot or will not let myself off the hook that easily. So while some of this may be true, I reject it as the only answer.

I currently write in a bound black book with unlined pages which I found for around seven dollars. Being the control freak that I am, I was unsure about writing without any lines. "Be free, write big, small, diagonally across the page, draw - whatever you want to do," the "how-to" journal books have said. Surprisingly enough, I do like it. And I've found a type of pen that I like too. A disposable fountain pen which I've ordered from Staples. About two dollars per pen, it is a little pricey, but I like how it feels across the page.

So with my unlined blank book and my fountain pen, when I sit down to write, I feel at home. With a friend. A confidante. Available 24/7 - without judgment, critique or the need to "fix" me. Willing to take whatever I give: good, bad, ugly and downright horrible. Can take my tears without getting uncomfortable or the silence without needing to fill the space with words. Willing to listen to all of my emotions, regardless how irrational they may be.

Sometimes I have been unable to sleep and so I take my journal downstairs, intending to write while in front of Josh's tree. Most times, I get sleepy, lay down and fall asleep with the lights and beautiful white tree being the last image in my tired mind - my journal doesn't care. Nor when I wake up at 6:30 am with some thought that I have to get down on paper - no problem. Completely unselfish - only there for me - as much as I want to give or as little. Hours and hours in one day and only a couple of quick minutes in a week - my friend is always there.

How could I survive the overwhelming loss, sadness, grief, guilt, despair over Josh's young and tragic death without it? Simply put, I could not. My feelings, without a safe outlet, would churn, boil, bubble up and explode. I can now understand why some people turn to alcohol after tragedy to mask the pain. Instead of this type of harmful activity, I can bring a nice cup of tea or glass of wine to my room, sit down and pour my feelings onto the pages of my journal.

There is not a human who could be this type of friend to me. I could not be this for someone else, but a ninety-nine cent spiral notebook or seven dollar blank book can be. And so I say, "Thank you, journal, for being there for me over the past nine-and-a-half months - the most horrible that I've had to endure - that any mother would have to suffer. You have kept me sane. You have saved me and will continue to do so. Thank you for being my friend".

God Bless

A Mother's Love - December 31, 2009

It's been my tradition at the end of every year to "take stock" in my journal: highlights, accomplishments, work, family, review of goals, etc. I just can't bring myself to take pen to paper this year as what would I say? Everything pales in comparison to the loss of our beloved Josh. This is not only the event of the year, but of my life. Nothing will be the same for me since that fateful day on March 18, 2009......ever. Why is this?

What was just an intellectual truth to me, has now been lived and experienced. Grief is directly proportional to love. Love much - grieve much.

In the book, Silent Grief: Living in the Wake of Suicide, Christopher Lukas and Henry Selden write: "The guilt and depression among parental survivors does seem to be more intense and longer lasting than among others. Every single parent to whom we talked expressed this same feeling: their "job" had been to protect their child - and they had failed" (127).

One cannot measure the love a parent has for their child - no matter how old that child is. And while a father's love is intense, I still don't think it is the same as a mother's love. And it doesn't matter how many children a mother is blessed to have, as her heart just grows to accommodate the same, intense love for each one.

These thoughts were roaming in my head one night and the next morning, I had to write this poem down. I dedicate this to my fourth son, Joshua Lee Anderson, whom I love with all of my heart and soul and therefore am grieving with all of my heart and soul.

A Mother's Love
by Sue Anderson
(12/29/2009)

A mother's love,
if expressed as hope,
is never ending.

A mother's love,
if expressed as energy,
is boundless.

A mother's love,
if expressed as space,
is immeasurable.

A mother's love,
if expressed as truth,
is irrefutable.

A mother's love,
if expressed as substance,
is indestructible.

A mother's love,
if expressed as understanding,
is unfathomable.

A mother's love,
if expressed as sacrifice,
is unquestionable.

A mother's love,
if expressed as devotion,
is unconditional.

A mother's love,
if expressed as time,
is eternal.

Rest in peace, my dear, beloved son.

God Bless.

Christmas - Then and Now

"Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!" In a world that seems so far away, yet was only twelve months ago, these words were said with much sincerity and gusto to everyone I knew. Nothing too "merry" or "happy" about it now. Apart from the fact that I love having the girls home, I want it to be over as soon as possible.

I never realized it before, but it takes a lot of energy to have a "merry" christmas or "happy" holiday. Decorating, shopping, wrapping along with the cooking, baking and cleaning. Just don't have what it takes this year and right now, not sure if I ever will have the energy of the past, or "pre-Josh".

Also, it is hard to sit down and think about what to write on this post. Much easier to be mindless and numb while going through the motions of daily activities. Thinking means crying. And anyone who has had a good cry recently knows this activity is an energy drainer.

We have received so many cards with special notes of sympathy. One came from Germany in which a dear friend shared that she reads the blog and has passed it along to others who have lost children to suicide. She says the blog helps them but is sorry that the loss our beloved Josh makes it so. I know what she means. I am glad it helps but wish to God as I know these other mothers do, that we did not have to suffer this tragedy. We wish that our children had survived those dark moments so they could be with us today.

Letters and pictures are often included with the cards. I enjoy looking at the photos as it is amazing to see how quickly children grow, to young adults and then with families of their own. In fact, some of the pictures of my friends are only with their grandchildren, which is very cute. The letters, however, that describe the family highlights of the year, stay in the envelopes for now. I will look at them later, as it is too hard to read about the "normal" lives of so many.

Grieving is a very personal thing. "Everyone grieves differently," all the books say. Having observed our own family on this point, I would agree. What I didn't realize is that it is also lonely. My heart always aches, but there are some moments when the sorrow rises up and needs release. These times may not coincide with what others are feeling so in an effort not to bring anyone else down, I weep alone, as inconspicuously as possible.

I still find myself asking "why?" over and over. "Why did he do this to himself? Why didn't he say something? How long had he been feeling like this? What did we miss?" Sometimes it seems like I have let these unanswerable questions go, and then they pop up again, as if never asked before. It is a mystery which cannot be solved, although it may be that some answers lie in his unused room.

As a huge favor to me, in the week while everyone was home right after his death, Josh's room was cleaned up. His clothes were divided into various piles: keep, give away and throw away. His desk and closet became neat and organized. I wonder if, within the untouched notebooks, are missing clues?

Some of the seemingly blank books were taken by Gillian to use. While at school, she found something and emailed the following to me:

I'm using one of Josh's old composition books for school and while I was mindlessly flipping through the pages, I spotted some ink. My heart sped up as I slowly sifted through the notebook, trying to find the page. I kept thinking, "please let it not be angry, please let it not be angry, please let it not be angry." I didn't want to see the hate and despair he might have felt about the world and himself. What I found was more comforting than anything I could have imagined:

Josh Anderson

Got up today like it was any other day,
Thing is, I didn't know that I'd have to pay
For the series of events that would change my ways,
But still I know everything'll be okay.

When I read it, I felt like he was telling us that "everything'll be okay." He said it again through me in my Mother's Day poem. I don't think it's a coincidence that both poems share the same ending. On the previous page, you can see his formation process of the poem:

My dad came back just the other day, (crossed out)
And he came back from work in the (crossed out)

How come things ... (crossed out)
My dad came home just the other day
Another long day of school ahead (crossed out)

Got up today like it was any other day

-respect your parents (crossed out)
-try hard in school (crossed out)
-everything'll be alright (circled)
-to get over it (crossed out)

Got up today like it was any other day
Thing is, couldn't have known what was destined to come (crossed out)
Thing is, I didn't know that I would have to pay
For the series of events that would change my ways
But still I know everything'll be okay.

Now I know that he had a much deeper understanding of what was going on and how he was trying to cope with it. That's what I found most heartening. He WAS trying to cope with it. And he wanted so much to be respectful to you and do well in school and so many other things, but in the end, he realized that everything would, eventually, be okay. Which gives me more hope than I've ever had before, even a shred of certainty, that wherever he is now- he is better. He is happy. He is telling us that everything is okay. That everything will be okay.

I hope you can find the same comfort in his words as I have. I love you and he loves you.

Reading this poem, while comforting, raised other questions. Unfortunately, there was no date so I don't know when he wrote it. After the first time he got in trouble in March, 08 or this recent time, which led to his fatal action? Are there other writings in his room, waiting to be discovered? One would think, with all the questions in my head, that I would have torn through every book, nook and cranny to uncover something that might help me understand. But for reasons that are unbeknownst to me, I have not done so. Am I afraid of what might be found? Or afraid of the disappointment if nothing is found? I guess for right now, it is better to flirt with the possibility than to know for sure.

I end this post with the photo we sent last year in our card as well as the only two pictures of Josh last Christmas.






"Merry Christmas, dear Josh. We love and miss you so much."

God Bless

"Remember Me" - Nine Months Later

Books can be found in the most interesting places. While shopping for groceries in California last October, I came across a book called The Angel's Game from an unknown author - at least to me: Carlos Ruiz Zafon. After finishing this book, I had to read his first book, The Shadow of the Wind. Not only are they well written, but the protagonist in both stories are book lovers and authors. And right now, my favorite hobby is reading and favorite place to spend an hour or two: the bookstore.

In The Shadow of the Wind, I was struck by a few sentences written in a letter to the main character - by one who knew their death was imminent.

So long as we are being remembered, we remain alive.
Remember me, even if it's only in a corner and secretly.
Don't let me go.

I have underlined this quote, written it in my journal and have thought about how true these words are. Even in the past week, I've heard stories of loss and what actions the living undertake to remember their loved one and in doing so, keep them alive.

Someone from my cycle class shared about losing a brother many years ago due to a heart attack. He was only four years older than her and they were very close. "His pictures are everywhere. In my bedroom, my office, my home. He is with me all of the time. I will never forget him."

Another situation touched me deeply. A mother whose son was one of Josh's good friends, recounted losing a child several years ago due to health issues. She said the pain does lessen over time, but never goes away. And her child will forever be in her heart. In fact, their Christmas decorations this year will reflect something special about this child and she was so kind to say that an ornament will be put on their tree in memory of Josh.

It is hard to explain, but it helps me tremendously to know that Josh is being remembered not only in our family, for that is expected, but with so many others. I like hearing people say his name. I may cry but that is okay. I want to hear stories about what others remember most about him. I would never tire of listening; even if it is the same one over and over.

One of Josh's friends emailed me recently and said he used to spend hours and hours playing video games with Josh. And it was hard to do so after his death because of the memories. However, he is playing them again and has found that this is his own way of spending time with Josh and remembering him.

Another friend is a starting player on the high school basketball team and is wearing Josh's number, 33, in memory of him.

And while Josh had many close friends, there is one who was like a brother to him, Bryce. Our first introduction to his family was when the boys were about 6-8 weeks old so when I say they have known each other all of their lives, it is not an exaggeration.

Josh was part of their family and Bryce was part of ours. Even though many miles separated them during the last few years, their friendship never suffered. I recently received a most beautiful gift from his mother - a photo album of our families. It arrived in the afternoon but I had to wait until the work day was over to open it for I knew what would happen. I don't think I've cried that hard since the first days after Josh's death. To see picture after picture of the two boys and know that there will be no more just breaks my heart. I feel for this young man who has lost a true best friend. This album is a precious gift, made with love and tears.

Bryce's sister is remembering Josh in a most special way. She is due to have a baby girl early next year and along with the father, has decided to name her HaiLee. The "Lee" is in honor of Josh for that is his middle name. As this child goes through life, she herself, will keep his memory alive. I am amazed. Josh would be too.

All of this is summed up in a card received this week by a work colleague.

Those whom we have loved never really leave us. They live on forever in our hearts and cast their radiant light onto our every shadow.

The holidays are difficult but what helps us through these hard days is knowing that our beloved Josh has not been forgotten. He still lives in all of our hearts.

I will end this post with a slide show of Josh as a happy, nine year old boy in 2001.

God Bless

New Holiday Traditions

The holidays would be easier to bear if it were limited to one or two days - like Thanksgiving. The day would come and go, along with the heightened grief and sadness felt from Josh's passing.

But no, the "Christmas season" or "holiday season" is four weeks or longer. In the past, or "pre-Josh", I enjoyed the holidays. I looked forward to the family traditions and most of all, the time together.

These days, I take inventory in my head. Examining each tradition or action associated with this "festive" time to determine if I can or want to do it. Am I motivated? Do I have the energy? Will it be too sad or will it help?

In speaking about this with our girls at Thanksgiving, I said it wasn't clear to me what I would be able to do. They understood but hoped that we could, at the very least, still have a tree. I didn't make any promises, but over time, after seeing our neighbor's trees in the windows, I came to want one too. But I couldn't bear pulling out the same decorations as years past.

You see, this was one of our traditions. I always got an ornament for each child complete with their initials and the year. When it came time to decorate, the Christmas music played, a plate of cookies were out and the kids put their ornaments on the tree. It would be too sad to look at Josh's ornaments - each one a reminder of our loss.

So this year, we have an all white tree. White lights, ribbon, flowers, ornaments and snowflakes. In memory of Josh. It is absolutely beautiful - exactly what I pictured. Tim took special care in picking out the tree - it is perfect. I don't think the picture does it justice, but I have posted it below.



Another tradition at this time is to put candles in each of the upstairs windows. I like the simplicity of this and it reminds me of being in New England during Christmas. This year, I decided to put one candle up - in Josh's room. Again, in memory of him.

Then something new to consider. What to do about decorating his grave site? I wanted to put a wreath by his stone, but what kind? How big? Where do I get the wreath holder? Should I make it? Or buy it? Real or artificial? These questions occupied my mind for a few days. Having never thought of such things before, and wanting it to be perfect for our beloved Josh, made this seemingly simple task, a bit overwhelming.

In the end, I went to a craft store to look around. I found the wreath holder - a simple stand that can be pushed into the ground. And the perfect wreath - beautifully decorated with bright green ornaments (for Langley) and one bright blue ornament (for South Lakes). I could not have made a better one. So I took it out the day after the first snow fall of the season, set it up and had a good cry. No one was around. A little breeze made Josh's chimes ring softly. The snow, unmarked by footprints, was beautiful.


The holidays are hard and without the continued love, support and encouragement from family and friends, I don't think we could bear it. Not a day goes by, where we don't get something - either a call, an email, card or letter which lets us know that our Josh is loved and missed. This lifts our hearts, like nothing else can.

Thank you and God Bless

Another Sign?

While in Florida for Thanksgiving, we took advantage of the beautiful beach scenery to take our annual Christmas photo - in our "Josh" T-shirts, of course.


After taking the picture, Lauren, Gillian and I decided to stay and watch the sunset since we were leaving in the morning. In my heart, I am always hoping to see a sign that Josh is okay. While we were waiting for the sun to go down, all three of us saw something most unusual. In the sky, were two short vertical lines that were brilliant orange-red and blue-purple. It was striking in its beauty. Gillian immediately took a picture.

Then we saw something more amazing. The same two vertical lines were on the other side of the sinking sun. Yet there was not a hint of rain or any type of precipitation that would warrant what resembled the beginning of a rainbow. Gillian snapped several pictures as none of us had seen anything like it before. Was this a sign? We all hoped it was - something to say that Josh is always with us - like a guardian angel.

Other pictures of the gorgeous sunset.

A photo of our whole family - honoring and remembering Josh. As we were walking to the beach, my nephew said it looked like we were on a field trip due to our matching shirts. I guess we were pretty conspicuous.

Josh - we miss you. Not only on this vacation, but each and every day. You are in our heart always. Rest in peace, my dear, sweet boy.

God Bless