It's Christmas Eve of the second Christmas without my son Joel. In some ways it seems like only yesterday I could hug him and tell him how much I love him, while in other ways it seems like all of that happened in a different lifetime.

Christmas was always special to Joel even more than other children. He held on to the fantasy of Santa much longer than others did, in fact he never really figured it out until his mother and I sat him down and came clean about the whole thing. We had to do it before he slipped up at middle school and caught all kinds of grief about it.

He was always our alarm clock on Christmas morning, waking his sisters and bugging us until we finally relented and got out of bed. The lined up for the entrance to the living room, taking turns being first, although I am quite sure Joel was able to finagle his way into being first more often than his sisters.

There was an infectious joy about Joel, he appreciated every gift, no matter how small it may be. I remember one year when his aunt gave him a gift that duplicated one he had already received at home. He never let on that he already had it, he gushed and smiled and thanked her profusely, he didn't want her feeling bad about her gift. No one really knew that side of him, he kept it hidden deep inside.

Oh don't get me wrong he could be as petty and selfish as anyone, especially when it came to his sisters, but there was always a part of him that really wanted the best for others.

I think that is what led to the tremendous outpouring of grief we witnessed at his visitation and funeral.

So as another year comes to a close without my beloved son I can only say what I said on the day he died.

A light has gone out in the world, it has become a darker and sadder place.

My only hope now is in Christ Jesus, that he has prepared a place for us in Heaven, and that some day I will once again place my arms around the shoulders of my son and hear him say in a booming laughing voice,

Hey Pops, you made it, let me show you something.

Hugs From Joel

First let me say for the record that I am a pretty skeptical person and do not see signs everywhere nor believe in ghostly apparations. My general view is that when you die you have no further contact with this world.

That being said there are times when we can draw comfort and encouragement from things around us, and it may be that God in his infinite wisdom is placing those things there for just that purpose. I have a friend who sees humming birds and penny's and see's conformation of his Mother's well-being, I have another friend who repeatedly see's a pair of crows and reads that as an affirmation that his parents are all right.

My comfort and encouragement has come in the form of hugs from unexpected sources. My son was a great hugger, big and burley with the strength of two he would embrace you and squeeze you with a warmth and comfort that few can match. Over the last couple of weeks I have received two very special hugs.

On the first occasion I was waiting outside my church for a meeting with my pastor; standing about twenty feet away was two mothers who had just picked up their children. One of the children who appeared to be about two years old was waving to me and struggling to get down from her mother's arms. When the mother finally put her down she ran straight to me and raised her arms for me to pick her up. I did so and hugged her after which she struggled down and ran back to her mother, who shrugged her shoulders in such a way that I felt certain this was out of character for her daughter.

The second occasion happened in the check-out line at Wal-Mart. I had struck up a conversation with a three year old boy standing in the shopping cart in front of us in line, asking him questions about the dog he was buying food and biscuits for, asking him his name and his age, when suddenly unbidden he walked across the shopping cart and put his arms around me and laid his head on my chest. It was a brief moment but it brought back many memories of my son doing the same thing.

I don't really believe that Joel had a hand in sending these hugs my way, but if we accept that God is our Father and that he cares for us as a father would, it seems well within the realm of possibility that he would see my pain and communicate to me that all is well.

So to my Father in Heaven I want to say, thank you, message received, All is Truly Well. And if by chance this communication can go both ways would you mind giving Joel a hug for me, and squeeze him extra tight, that's the way he likes it.

A Letter To My Son

To say you left us to soon would be to imply there would be an acceptible time to leave us.
To say we miss you would not do justice to the way we feel.
Your presence fills every corner of our lives.
Your smile,
your laugh,
your joy,
your love surrounds us always.
Your presence in Heaven makes it that much more important to us that we get there.

Hug Papa for me, scratch floppy behind the ear and keep sending me the hugs*, they're very special to me.

Love Always
Pops
* I will explain the hugs in a seperate post

A Happy Post For A Change

I realize that my previous three post have not been full of sunshine so I thought it was time to make you laugh. I'm sure Joel was laughing that big booming hard to ignore laugh of his today when he looked down from Heaven and saw me being led around the showroom at the Harley Davidson store on 119.

I've been in there several times but this was the first time I found the courage to talk to a salesperson and show an interest in possibly purchasing a ride. The sticker prices are quite shocking to say the least. My first home as a married person was a house trailer that cost half as much as most of these bikes and had one and a half more restrooms.

I am planning to take a class when I can on riding so that I can be prepared when a bike in my price range becomes available or some kind rider once again hands me a key and says here take it for a ride for your son.

I'm pretty sure that when the day comes that I'm actually aboard a street bike, and cruising; the sun will be shining, cause my son will be smiling, and that boom you hear will not be thunder just a well deserved laugh from my buddy up in Heaven. But I'll hear something else in my head, I'll be hearing "way to go Pops, gun it for me so I can hear it rumble".

What a Difference a Year Makes

Today is March 2nd and one year ago, unbeknownst to me I had only 19 more days with my son. How different those 19 days would have been had he and I only known.

There were disagreements during those 29 days, some of which escalated much farther than they should have. I spent very little time with him, and he spent very little time with me. It didn’t seem to matter to either of us then that our time together was limited, after all we had the rest of our lives to be together. We just didn’t know how short the rest of our lives really was.

Did I hurt his feelings during those last few days? I’m sure I did.

Did I ignore his needs during those last few days? As much as always.

Did I take the time to tell him how very special he was? Not nearly enough I am sure.

So how much have things really changed over the last year?

Do I still hurt my loved ones feelings? More often than I should.

Do I ignore my loved ones needs? More often than I know.

Do I take the time to tell them how special they are to me? Not nearly enough.

I realize that I am better than I was but still a long way from being as good as I should be.

But one thing has definitely changed. I no longer live in the blissful ignorance of believing in something called “the rest of my life’. I am painfully aware that the breath I just took is all there really is of the rest of my life. Each intake of breath begins life anew. There is no way to make up for how I misspent my last breath of life, I can only look forward to how I am going to spend the next one, and the one after that.

This is the lesson I learned from my son. And the glorious hope is that when all of my next breaths here on Earth are ended, he and I can take back up where we left off and begin anew in a place where we can really explore something called “the rest of our lives”.

When There's Darkness That's Full of Light

Grief is a dark, dark place to live; made worse by the fact that for a time you must live there all alone. Even those around you who began their life in the habit of grief at the same time as you, can bring only a measure of comfort. Though the event that brought each of you into griefs dark domain is the same, the place it moves you into is as unique as God's fingerprint reflected through the DNA of your heart.



Before March 21st of last year my life was filled with light, my wife, my three children. Four bright lights placed in my life by the father of light in Heaven. Then in one brief instant darkness came upon me through the loss of one light. Only one fourth of the light was extinguished but all of the world went dark.



I cannot explain how the loss of one light can bring such total darkness. Each of the remaining lights have been dimmed by their own habitat of grief but they have not gone completely out. They each shine on me as they always have, and they each do their best to bring light back to my world, as I do my best to shine light into theirs, but the darkness remains.



Grief, it seems, defies the laws of the physical universe. In the physical universe light can never be defeated by the darkness; one small candle shines into every corner of a darkened room exposing everthing in its path. But in griefs distorted universe you find yourself constantly groping through the darkness even when surrounded by a multitude of lights.



The only conclusion I have drawn is that grief creates a universe clouded by an illusion. Just as an illusionist make us see things that our minds tell us cannot be there, the illusion of grief causes us to see total darkness in a lighted room. The only way to see the illusionist trick is for the illusionist himself to reveal it to you. Once revealed the illusion can never again hold power over you.



Grief's illusionist will never reveal his secrets to us, but there is one greater than he, that know's all the illusion's secrets, he will reveal them to us when we are ready to see them, not just desiring to see them but truly ready.



All we can do is pray for strength to hold on until that day, that day of glorious light, when darkness returns to its rightful place in our world once more.

When a Year is not a Year

In a little over a month a year will have passed. In many respects it was a normal year, twelve months, three hundred and sixty six days (2008 was a leap year), eight thousand seven hundred and eighty four hours. A normal year with just the right amount of days and hours though for me every day and every hour was twice as long as it should have been. It was twice as long as it should have been because this was the year I lost my son. My son and three of his friends were killed on March 21st 2008 in a horrific car crash.

So how long is a year in which you lose someone you love? I am fifty one years old and all the years that went before this one flashed by in a blur compared to this one.

They tell me that life will return to normal someday and days will return to their normal twenty four hour duration, I hope that day comes soon. I can't help but wonder; how long will the next three hundred and sixty five days last?