Memories

It has been an incredibly tense and stressful week or so. Not that all weeks aren't tense and stressful, but this one more than others. The stress and frustration burdens the pain and grief so much more. I feel so motivated to write, but I have myself blocked off too much to dig that deep. Some days it is just too much to feel. But reminders of my tragic event pop up when I least expect it. A visit to a doctors office that seemed innocent enough left me rattled and unsettled. He, too, had recently lost his son. We shared the pain with words unspoken and it was good to not have to say anything. However, it still blindsided me. My dreams are frequently both blessed and tormented for entire nights by memories and thoughts of my oldest son. My middle son's laugh is starting to sound exactly like his brothers. Plus with his hair growing a little longer, he resembles him more and more. It is both a blessing and a curse, for both of us. A few days ago I stumbled upon a notebook, while cleaning. It contained the speech I wrote and delivered at the memorial that was held at my son's high school. Since I have no new words at the moment, I wish to share with this with you now. This was written and delivered two or three days after his death.



"Some of you may already know this, so forgive me for being redundant. When Austin was young he went to North school here in town from kindergarten through half of 5th grade. He was the sweetest kid with his blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was such a ham, loving to make people laugh. He was always so sensitive to other peoples feelings. He loved his friends and he loved playing AYSO soccer and being a boy scout. In the middle of 5th grade, we moved to our new home in a new town, where he became part of that community, playing soccer, acting in a middle school play, doing all the stuff middle schoolers do. He was a bright and funny boy who loved people and tried to make them feel good. He spent a year and a half at the high school playing varsity soccer & hanging out with friends, getting his license and growing into a bright, caring young man. When his dad and I separated and his dad moved back to Sycamore, Austin jumped at the chance to go back to those schools. That is where he felt at home, where he felt he belonged. He loved being here. Playing football was his dream. While playing soccer he tore his meniscus and couldn't play football his senior year. I think I took it harder than he did. Last summer he went to Europe and had the best time of his life. When he got back, he had grown. Independence and worldliness was under his skin and I started to see the man he would become.

So now, I have no words of understanding and I have no explanation. If you are feeling hopeless, reach out! And hug your mom. She loves you more than you will ever know. Austin, my beautiful, smart, funny boy ended his life with a permanent solution to a temporary problem. As teenagers, we have no concept of time and how life does get better with age. We also do not realize how many lives we touch, even as adults. Austin loved a lot of people, but I don't think he understood how many people loved him. How many smiles he brought to faces, how many days he made better. I know he would be touched. I know he also would have made some silly joke right now. He would have loved the Zorro tribute. We often laughed that Zorro was his Latin alter ego. I appreciate the extensive outpouring of support from the community. But I am truly overwhelmed at the maturity and thoughtfulness of the students. Austin chose great people to call friends. And I thank you all so much for being a part of his life. I know you made it brighter."

Re-writing these words now, I have no concept of how I spoke these words to these kids, teachers, friends & family. I don't think I could speak them now. Austin's death was ruled an accident, we would find out days later. We can hope, but we can never know. And regardless of whether it was intentional or not, he is still gone, and that is what breaks my heart.