First and Last

We are going to have many firsts and lasts the next few months. It will be the first holidays and Joe's birthday without him. I have no idea what this will be like, but for certain we are bracing for the worst; and after much discussion we have decided to stay home for Thanksgiving but be as far away as possible for Joe's birthday. For Tony and David it is the last Head of the Hooch, McCallie Invitational, state dive meet, Argonaunt and spring crew; and our last Honors Scholars weekend and graduation.

The firsts and lasts seem to be colliding just when we are the most vulnerable. Mike and I try hard to celebrate every part of Tony and David's senior year, but you can see the sadness in our eyes in every picture. As we drive home from McCallie there is always the comment "Joe would be so proud of his brothers" followed by a very long silence.

What we will dread the most, however, is the first anniversary of Joe's death and no conversation is needed since we all know we will be together no matter what.

You Are 18!

Dear Tony and David,

Today you are 18 and are moving on to wonderful exciting times in your life. I remember these many years ago when you arrived, bringing laughter and love into our lives. After 20 weeks in bed to get you safely delivered you never missed a beat and have amazed us beyond words. You were devoted brothers to Joe, loving sons and have always followed your dreams. There is nothing more a mother could want, so thank you for the joy you have brought to our family.

Happy Birthday, and many more to come.

Love you lots,

Mom

Follow Your Dreams

Follow your dreams, those words have resonated in our ears for years. But we, for the most part, were a generation of following our dreams meant make as much money as you can in your lifetime. Putting aside our passions, and as the years went by wondering what was missing, and then circling back to our dreams later in years.

I see Tony and David's class on the cusp of graduating and going on to college, or other adventures, and they are a generation of following their dreams. I am amazed about how each one of them know their path. But David in his quiet way was the pinnacle of following dreams. He wanted to go overseas for college and as a young seventeen year old he took the leap of faith and applied to Oxford, Durham University and St. Andrews in the United Kingdom. His dream has been fulfilled being accepted to Durham University and is in the running for Oxford. The St. Andrews decision will be not far behind.

Oh the refreshing times of our children who not want for monetary rewards, but rather seek their desires and reach for them every day. This generation is destined to make a difference.

Charleston

Today I felt energized for the first time in a week and my heart was being pulled to Charleston where we had spread Joe's ashes this past summer. I was awake early in the morning and after chores and errands I pointed the car south on I-77 to merge on to I-26 towards Charleston. The old BMW hummed beautifully down the road and deposited me in the perfect parking spot within yards of where his ashes were spread amongst us and his friends. I carefully pulled Joe's IPod from my purse and found "On the Go 3", his favorite songs we had listened to for months soothing him to sleep. I stood at the railing, holding the rosemary from our garden, listening to his music and an incredible calmness came over me. As I dropped the rosemary into the bay it did not float out to sea instead it followed me as I walked to the car.

I wonder where his ashes are. Were they taken out to sea to exotic places or did they stay in the bay? I am not sure but my guess is that Joe was carried out of the bay on to wonderful places for that would be his wish. But for a moment today I felt he knew I was going to be there, he returned and walked me to my car.

Head of the Hooch and more...

I was in Chattanooga last weekend to watch Tony dive in the morning and David row the Head of the Hooch in the afternoon. This weekend has been a tradition for four years and one I have always looked forward to every year. Truly there is not another weekend, outside of Candlelight, that I enjoy more. Watching Tony twist and turn off the board and then witness operatic rowing in the afternoon equals the sum of a perfect weekend. A wonderful dinner with our boys completes the day.

We missed this weekend last year, but this year I soaked up every moment.

How We Say Goodbye

I was scanning the CNN website a few weeks ago and ran across an interesting article about the dead greeting the dying. The experts say at the end they recognize a mother, father, relative or friend that has passed away and are ready to greet them on the other side. It was an article written by a man who deals with this regularly and clearly he had more years of experience. We were the rookies thrown into this arena groping our way through the dark every day with the help of Hospice, a therapist and our own gut feelings. But what struck me was the recurring scenario he described, a conversation with a vision in the corner of the room or at their bedside happening within weeks or hours of passing away.

I remember before Joe passed away he became particularly agitated one night on the heels of sleeping most of the day and night for a week. He insisted on being out of bed and was sitting on the floor, covered in a blanket, with an unnerving wild look in his eyes. His head jerked from one corner of the room to the other and finally he'd pointed to the left side and growled, "I am not going with you and don't ask me again." His face softened as he pointed to the right corner softly saying, "I will go with you."

To this day we have no idea who he was talking to, nor could he tell us since he promptly returned to bed not to move or speak after that night. I do know whoever was visiting his beside that night he had made his choice and they were waiting for him.

This Is The Long Road

These months ahead marks our family's long march of remembering. This is the time when we knew Joe was dying and we held on to every word, every breath, every visit from this day forward. We were, as my grandmother would say, "at the bottom of the barrel".

We "circled the wagons" for the toughest fight of our lives, the battle of holding on tight to life and letting go, knowing that this day may be our last conversation. Heading straight on to death is unsettling, disturbing and brave. The ability to have the chance to talk is a gift, but the road to deterioration is heartbreaking. Joe was with us until the last six weeks, which at that point he slipped into a drug induced state to control his pain. His body was here but his mind was gone. When looking back from the time of his last recurrence to his death we only had about two months of Joe. And then he slipped away.

But he knew we were by his side and never alone. And that made his death graceful.