Three

The morning of Bryson's third birthday, I got in the shower and thought about the Blog I would write for my little man.  I remember how I wanted to describe him, paint a picture, of a crazy monster with the sweetest heart you'd ever known.  A kid that has turned my world upside down and back again, but who can make the very best of all my days.  He made sure I didn't get too high on my parenting horse with his entrance into the world with colic, then his instant heft that would give my back a run for it's money, then his walking at 10 months, then his getting-in-to-everything-and-running-to-the-most-dangerous-corner-of-the-----everywhere.  With his brilliant big smile he warmed my heart and let me know that I had much less control than I thought I did.  Also, more love than I thought.  Again.  

On the day of his Third Birthday, I took the day off work.  That morning, I got the girls on the school on the bus.  The day was in front of us and I couldn't wait to be with my boy the whole day, just the two of us.  It was the first day we'd ever done something fun, just the two of us.  I felt a little guilty about that, but we were going to change that today.  

The day was December 14.  

I got a text message from my friend Carrie while at the new Portland Aquarium.  Bryson and I were trying on shark costumes.  She told me of a shooting in Connecticut at an elementary school.  My heart skipped a beat and after a little back and forth, I learned K-4, 26 dead, I quickly put my phone back in my back pocket.  I took it out twice to take a picture, but I didn't want to know more.  I wanted to enjoy this time with my baby.  Each time he came in for a hug, I held him a little closer.  And each time he ran away, I felt my heart panic, I needed to be near him.  Part of me wanted to race to school to pick up the girls, but I was an hour away, and I knew Addie was already home with our nanny, and Lily only had 2 hrs left of school.  

Bryson and I went to Red Robin, played with play doh and ate lunch.  He picked out balloons, and made a big mess of his noodles, and I let him.  I didn't tell him one time to eat more, or cleaner, like I wanted to, I just drank him up.  Focusing on him, as I fought the urge to find out more.  They sang to Bryson and he loved every minute of this alone time.  

After lunch was over, I needed to get home and be with the girls.  I needed to be physically in our house with my kids.  I saw a message from our Kindergarten teacher that said some of the kids were Kindergarteners.  I didn't want to imagine and I didn't want to think about how or what to say to my kids about this, I hoped I wouldn't say anything.  I got home to excited girls who were ready, happy, waiting for the birthday boy.  They had no idea.  Of course they didn't.  Thank God they didn't.  They were absolutely full of joy and innocence that it hurt to look at them, but I was thankful.  

It was Friday.  TGIF.  A long awaited day for me.  For all the moms of the world. Pizza / movie night, the easiest night of the week in the Herman house.  We get into PJs before 5pm and we eat pizza in front of a movie until bedtime.  We cuddle on the couch and everyone likes pizza so much, we never have to coax a few more bites.  At bedtime, everyone is tired, relaxed, and ready to sleep.  Bedtime is easy.  All weekday long, we long for Friday night when we can collapse in the easy and comfortable and loving.  

My brother and Heather came over for cupcakes before their movie, and our nanny stayed a little late so we ate cake before dinner, and opened presents before getting into PJs.  It was lovely.  

Lily uncharacteristically complained a lot at Bryson's choice of movie, and as I explained to her that it was his birthday, his choice, and she didn't have to watch with us, but I hoped she would because it was her brother's special day.  I was annoyed with her and also filled with love and gratitude at the same time.  Thankful that this was my problem.  What if this wasn't the explanation I had to deliver on this night?  What if this wasn't the thing she felt the saddest about?  Having to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse instead of Annie.  What if I had to explain that her sister was gone, or that her friends were gone, or to try to make sense of a violation that could never be restored in all of her years.  What if?  

My heart aches when I think about the rawness that I felt that day, the day my little boy turned three.  The day I had so, so much to celebrate.  The day a community lost everything, if not their children, their innocence, their support network, their school.  I have never been so full of fear lurking in the world.  Waiting for me to send my children off to them.  

That weekend I had more patience than maybe I ever had in eight years of parenting.  I drank them up, I memorized their movements, their laughs, their tears.  I knew that whatever emotion I was feeling toward them as they pestered one another, or woke me up at night, I was lucky to be experiencing it.  I felt blessed and guilty.  Guilty for being blessed.  Guilting for it taking another's tragedy to wake me into perspective.  But that's what it takes sometimes.  

I was forever changed by the horror that happened to an elementary school 3,000 miles away.  I knew I would never forget the pain that I felt in my heart.  I hoped that was the worst thing I would ever experience in my lifetime, and I was sad because I knew it almost certainly would not be.  

And here we are.  Two months later.  Most of us have all but forgotten.  We think about it, we shutter, and we go on.  We make sure that we look at our kids in the eyes and tell them we love them before they get on the bus.  Say we are sorry before they run off for a day out of our control.  But we aren't gripped by the urgency anymore.  Maybe that's because emotionally it is too exhausting to live in that kind of fear.  We can't protect them from everything.  My friend, Melanie, touched me on that first painful Monday, when I had to send them back to school and I didn't want to.  She reminded me that my teachers love those kids as much as I do, and they will do anything and everything I would do to keep them safe.  I thought of my teachers, my friends, and...oh, that is so true.  It gave me comfort and courage to walk through that week. 

And in the weeks since I've prayed and I've thought endlessly about those families, those mamas.  I've read so many good blogs, like - I know what 6 looks like & I am Adam Lanza's mother.  I've read articles that have helped me to understand why this tragedy touched me so deeply, and how we are all victims here.  But I'm scared.  Scared of how easily my heart goes from broken to numb. I hope I can find a way to let this break my heart again and again, not because I want to feel the pain, but because with the pain came such clarity about what matters and what it really means to live in the moment and celebrate my present.   I want it to allow me to feel the compassion and gratitude in that big messy lump in my throat in those weeks after Bryson's 3rd birthday.  And if I'm totally honest, I want to love my kids as much as I did that weekend.  I want to love them so much that I never look away when they are talking.  I want to love them so much that I never grumble at giving another good night hug.  I want to love them so much that the mere sound of their voice gives me delight, every time.  And I will and I can.  As long as I can remember.  I can remember.  I want to remember.  

I'm posting below the things I wrote on Facebook last December.  I remember choosing each word carefully and from my heart.  Reading them again as I prepared to write this blog reminded me that they are important because they are mine.  

Every year, I will celebrate even harder that I have another year with my baby boy, and I will ache for the families out there who are hurting as they think about what should have been.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5:4

Dec 14 - Bryson's third birthday - I was expecting this day to be filled with joy and tears but...I had no idea. It was hard to soak in our day and feel joyful knowing many were hurting in ways that I pray I never have to know. I celebrated my birthday boy, memorized his smile, his energy, and loved all my kids so much it ached to look at them and ached to look away from them. I tried to keep my trembling and worried mind at bay by staying in the present, enjoying the moments I have right in front of me. My heart and prayers are with those that lost everything today, and I am reminded how precious each and every life is. I'm so full of love and pain, and I imagine I'm not alone.

Dec 15 - My rockstar kindergartener on the last night of Hanukkah. I delighted in her every move today, every smile, and even in the mean stuff she did to her brother. I gladly gave in to "one more hug" three times during bedtime stalling. I simply can't imagine a world without her infectious laugh in it. I feel a little guilty but mostly so grateful for every single thing that could have gone unnoticed today but was not.

Dec 17 - Hurting like it's the first time I've ever left them. :(

Dec 18 - Jeanine and Carrie, I'm so, so thankful for you both. Laugh with me, cry with me, get angry with me, and love with me. I so needed what you two amazing ladies gave me today. Then I got in the car with Mr. Herman and the rest of my family in our pajamas with blankets on our laps and we looked at Christmas lights and ate junk and drank/spilled hot chocolate and sang songs and laughed, windows down, heater up. That was the other thing I really needed today. Still hearthurting and still grateful.

Jan 7 - Back to work. Back to school. It was still dark out at 8:30am. I miss my babies. I feel uneasy again. Dreary day in the PNW. Whoa. Is. Me.

Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones.  When you have finished your daily task, go to sleep in peace.  God is awake.  ~Victor Hugo~

My little part of his big story

Writing, or lack thereof, is a funny thing.  There are some things you want to write down the second they happen, even if you don't actually do it, you want to.  There are other things that get procrastinated, pushed off into the endless to-do pile.  And then, there are things like this.  Things like saying goodbye, things like writing down the life of a friendship, that are stuck there, like a lump in the back of your throat, and you can't swallow them, or get them out.  Being stuck there, it makes it hard to breath at times, you want to get them out, but you just can't do it.  So, my words, they have sat here, stuck, in my blog draft.  Drafts actually.  Maybe five different times I've written, and I couldn't post, I couldn't finish.  I didn't want the content to be true.  Maybe I foolishly thought I wasn't really saying goodbye if I wasn't writing about him.  But today, it's a year later, and no surprise, I still don't feel like saying goodbye.  So instead  of continuing to avoid, I will piece together my drafts, and I will write from my heart.  For my friend.  And the thing is, I'll probably never know just what to say.  Nothing will make it better, nothing will bring him back.  But my friend deserves more than my silence, and I deserve to release some grief.  This is just my little part of his big story.  

On June 6, 2011 I got a voicemail from my friend Mandy.  I was sitting at a beach house in Arch Cape with my family and my parents-in-law getting ready to go stroll around Cannon Beach for the day.  Her voicemail was broken up, but I thought I heard her say that Jim Schiefelbein had died.  I was confused and numb, I got on facebook and confirmed what she had said was true.  There had been a terrible accident, on a logging road, and he'd gone off a steep embankment.  This article was all I could find.  Short and terrible.  I must have read that last sentence 1000 times trying to make sense of it, make it either sink in or be not true.  (That sentence was: "The operator, James Schiefelbein, was ejected and died at the scene.")  After everyone had long gone to bed that night, I looked at the computer screen and read various facebook posts until the wee hours, I was finally able to release a few tears, I stared into cyberspace while my mind raced, until I was blurry eyed, and then I went to bed and I didn't sleep a wink.

It had been over two years since I'd seen Jim.  And that was crazy because he lived just 35 minutes away, in Vancouver, Washington.  We'd called and emailed and said we needed to catch up over a beer.  But we never made that happen. He was traveling and working hard, I was working hard and had my hands full with my 3 little ones.  He and his wife were expecting their first baby, and he had decided to name her Audrey.  I knew that from a post she'd made on facebook and I'd meant to call him and tell him how much I loved that name, how I'd given that name to my first daughter as her middle name.  But I didn't. Just a week before I'd meant to send him a text over Memorial Day to say we were in Joseph, and did he want to "stop by".  Only Jim would consider going to the end of the road in the corner of the state, passing through.  But I didn't.  No reception for a minute, and then I forgot.  In the busyness.  The wall of guilt and sadness over that feels like it will forever haunt me.  


The last time I'd seen Jim, he gushed over his new wife and son.  He told me how he'd adopted her son from a previous relationship and how much he liked being a dad.  He was teaching his little boy to fish and hunt, and he'd never been happier.  We were in a crowded bar after a Montana football game vs Portland State.  We went our separate ways that night without a goodbye, swarms of people all around.  It wasn't a big deal, we'd catch up later when it was less crazy. A million pictures of that day later, yet not one of Jim and I.  Of course I didn't know that that would end up being a precious last day for Jim and me.  A treasured day.  Thinking about it, makes me want to see every single friend I haven't seen and call them all and make sure that they knew how much I love them. I hope Jim knew.  Oh God, I hope he did.  

Dad and Son

The first time I met Jim, was in Missoula at the Bodega.  I walked past he and his friend, and he said, "Hey, what's your name?"  Jenny, I told him, "Where ya from, Jenny?" Joseph, I told him.  "That's my favorite place in the whole wide world."  Ha, Joseph, yeah right, most people I'd met in Montana had never heard of my little town of 1000 people and I certainly didn't believe this tall scruffy looking red head.  I told him as much.  He said, "Ya know Shirley Bothum?" I did, I actually graduated from high school with his daughter, I said so.  "Oh yeah, Katy?" he asked.  I was surprised, okay, I stood corrected, he did know where Joseph was.  He told me about the property his family owned there and that it was indeed his favorite place in the whole wide world.  We talked for the rest of the night.  I ended up dating his best friend / roommate, (which sometimes felt like I was dating Jim too because those two guys were inseparable, definitely what I would consider the definition of a best friendship), for about a year and I also became good friends with Jim's long time girlfriend.  When each of those relationships ended, Jim and I were both pretty broke up about it and had developed a close and true friendship.  We were both hurting and both begging the other for some answers about why our respective dumpers didn't want to be with us any more.  Neither of us was able to provide an answer, but we were certainly able to give each other the gift of time, companionship to ease some of the loneliness.  A lot of people didn't understand our friendship, in the whole men and women can never be friends type of a way.  But that was the thing we always were to each other, just friends.  

I remember this one Valentine's day we went out to the bar, since neither of us had anything romantic to do.  We laughed and laughed about how the only people that go to the bar on Valentine's Day are "what's left".  We didn't even hope to meet anyone that night because who want's "What's left", even if it was us?!  Funny enough, the downtown scene that night was really busy and we did have a lot of fun, playing wingman for one another.  That night I got invited to leave and go watch a movie with a guy I had dated a few years earlier.  I went, and Jim never let me live it down, leaving him alone downtown with "what's left" on Valentine's Day, though he always admitted he would have done the same thing to me if he'd gotten an invitation. 

Jim was bold and loud and crazy and forthcoming.  He'd say things to people that made me think he was going to get us both get knocked out.  The man had no filter, and many a time I seriously questioned his judgement.  He was a total pain in the ass about 50% of the time.  My roommates would throw their hands in the air at how I put up with him when he'd do something crazy in the wee hours, or stop by in some rage about something.  But that's because the other 50% of the time, he was fun and exciting and safe.  And because 100% of the time he was unconditional, even if I was doing something he totally disagreed with, even if I was mean and hurtful, when I was bitchy and sarcastic, and even if I was wrong.  He made sure I knew I  mattered to him.  And not just me, he made sure that everyone who mattered to him knew they mattered to him.  He was dependable and patient and honest.  There was never a hidden motive or deceptive plan.  You never had to wonder what he was after, because, after all, he had no filter.  He was a refreshing person to be around...when he wasn't driving you nuts.  People either loved him with all their heart or thought he was a total ass.  Not much in between.  He knew this, and he also knew that he could win over pretty much anyone, if given enough time.  His personality was so strong, so larger than life.  And he really would have done anything for me, I always knew that.  He would have done anything for anyone.  Don't get me wrong, he'd show up a day late to do it, and he'd take ya on the most obscure route to get home.  But I knew I could always count on him.  I always knew that.  He made sure I knew, not by his words, but by his actions.  As I think about it, I think it helped me to feel safe to take some of the risks I did in my life.  Moving to Boise, New Jersey, Portland without a plan.  If it came down to it, I knew that Jim would bail me out, come get me, and take me home if I ever needed him to.

When I graduated from college, he and his mom packed up all my stuff into the back of his truck and moved me to Boise, "on the way from Missoula to Portland".  If you've ever been on the road from Missoula to Boise, there is no "on the way" about it.  It's a mountain road in which 50% of the drive has a 25 MPH speed limit because of the near U turns in the road.  All. The. Way.  But he didn't mind a bit.  And bless his mom, Prudence, for coming along on that ride.  He was a good son, and she was just happy to be with him on the adventure.  He treated her like a queen.  I can only hope for my adult son to love me the way Jim loved Prudence.  (Although, Bryson, if you are reading this someday...I wouldn't mind if you gave me just a few less heart attacks that he likely gave her over the years!)

Jim and Prudence at our wedding, August 17, 2002

I posted this song because Jim loved it.  Every time I hear it I am back in that truck.  He had this on cassette single and he'd listen to it on repeat in the tape deck.  He would roll down the windows (on a cold Montana night), turn up the heat and the music, and he loved to drive to too loud classic country.  He knew weird backroads to go almost anywhere.  He would get stuck and have a winch and pull us out and I'd never even have to step foot in the mud, he'd do it all.  I always felt the safest with Jim, on muddy mountain roads, a place that I rarely felt safe as a passenger (or a driver for that matter).  I could close my eyes, hold on tight to the door handle, and know I'd be okay.  I think for me that made the way in which he died a little hard to accept.  If anyone could navigate a narrow logging road on a log skidder, it was him.  He seemed so invincible.  My heart skips when I think of it, I want it to not be true.  


Through college we had our ups and downs with our significant others, our parents, our friends, our goals, but we held a steady shoulder for the other to cry on.  We got in trouble with the law (some of us more than others, ahem), our significant others, our friends, the greek system, our parents, and our teachers. We laughed our heads off, went on crazy adventures, and spent so much time together that by the end of many days we were sick of the other's company.  But we were true friends and called each other to do it all over again the next day.  I knew when I hopped in that over stuffed truck with country music blasting, avoiding what was sure to be a weeks worth of mixed together clean and dirty laundry,  a tube of toothpaste, and a can of chew, that he were going to take me somewhere new, different, and meaningful.  1997 and 1998, I would say those years we kind of saved each other.  I wonder what life would have been like for me if he wasn't a crazy-stranger-talking-no-filter-friend-finder, boldly asking me who I was and where I was from.  


One night I dragged Jim and his dog, (then a puppy) his professed "only friend left in the world" JD out of the middle of the road, where he'd decided to lay down and take a little nap on a busy Missoula street whilst bear-hugging that pup, after a bartender called me and said he was out of control and needed someone to come get him before the cops were called.  What a sight that was for the Eastside Missoula crowd.  Later, he saved me on a day I really didn't feel like being saved, he called me like 200 times, then came over and rang the doorbell after 200 times of me not answering his calls, and to get me out of my rut (though I refused to get out of my sweatpants), drove me to Bonner for a fun day of Bloody Mary's, darts, and pool...and now to think back, if he wasn't so darn persistent I would be missing from my memory one of the most fun memories I have of college. Just one Sunday when my head was down and I just wanted to stay locked in my room for the rest of the year.  On a day that my friend would not take no for an answer.  Man, he was good at not taking no for an answer.  

Jim with the two great loves of his life, his mom and his wife, Amber - at his second favorite place in the world.  Pendelton Round Up

When Jim met Lawrence, he immediately took him in and told him what a great woman he was marrying, he thought Lawrence was pretty cool, you know, "for an East-Coaster".  :)  He was always talking about how badly he wanted to take Lawrence hunting and fly fishing (something Lawr loves), but it was another something that never happend.  Lawrence did buy a fishing trip to be guided by a friend of Jim's, at the benefit auction for his family.  We are sad that it is the closest Lawrence will ever get to go fishing with Jim, at least it will be for Jim.  Suffice to say, Jim was not a fan of the East Coast or East Coasters, he had his reasons, and he was happy to hear Lawrence tell him time and again, that Oregon was better.  You must remember, Joseph was his favorite place in the whole wide world.  


After our mountain top wedding and reception, Jim bought sleeveless white trash Joseph Hydrant shirts for our whole wedding party.  Thanks to Jim, even I had a muscle shirt with dogs playing cards and drinking beer on over my wedding dress on my wedding day towards the end of the night.  And so did all my bridesmaids.  And some groomsmen.  And all of the Ohio boys.  There are pictures, but I will lose friends if I post them here.  :)  

Showing the East Coasters how it's done (his words)

Just watched a tad of our wedding video and I was happy to find some video of us dancing at my wedding, it made me smile

New Year's Even 1997, impromptu trip to Mount Hood for the night.  We didn't have a reservation or anywhere to stay, but Jim said he would take care of it.  I don't remember the details, but he did.  I mean we didn't drive back to Portland or sleep in the truck.  Jim had no use for such official things like reservations or preplanned things.

Talk about a couple of Bozos!

If you didn't know Jim, you will not understand this part (or most of this blog for that matter), but if you did, you will likely be smiling, nodding your head, as your heart swells, thinking about these words that will always remind of Jim, and I know I am missing some: Bozo, Bozoed, Snake, a real snake move, a real bozo move, there's gonna be a show down,  The big show, outlaw, shot-of-jack-coke-back-no-ice, and mountain bride... 


Jim used to be so fed up with the girls he was dating, the ones who had hurt him, or the ones who weren't interested, despite his most charming efforts.  He'd say, "Screw it, Jenny, I'm just going to go find a mountain bride to marry".  I would remind him that the trouble was, he wasn't interested in girls that looked like mountain brides.  He wanted a girl who was happy spending all her time with him riding shotgun in the mountains, waiting for him as many stops as he wanted to make along the way, and who'd never give another fella a look.  But he also wanted a beautiful girl who looked like a model on his arm.  One with a gorgeous smile and a nice butt.  One who was smart and witty and all around lovely.  One who would keep him in line, but who would love him exactly as he was, you know, even with a bit of copenhagen in his teeth.  Mountain brides, I reminded him, didn't have any teeth.  So, enter Amber,...and he sure proved me wrong.  This picture of Jim and Amber is among my favorites.  It reminds me that he got her, he married his mountain bride.  The exact one he had been looking for all those years ago.  The one that I told him probably didn't exist.  She's beautiful, lovely, and she loved him just as he was.  My heart sinks and jumps for him, and I'm so thankful that he got to know this love in his lifetime.  He didn't settle for less than he knew was right for him.

I had to add this picture because I always smile when I think about how much Jim must have loved it.  His gorgeous wife + big machinery.

Mountain bride, indeed

I could and I want to keep telling stories, and keep adding lengthy detail.  In the true words of Red, I guess I just miss my friend.  Jim was a great man, a great friend, a great son, a great father, a great husband; there was something different and special about him, and all of those who took the time to get to know him, loved him.  (However, I don't think you could find another guy in the world who has more people who love him start their story of their first memory of him, "When I first met him, I hated him, I thought there was no way I'd have anything in common with this guy!"...fast forward to end of story..."He ended up being one of my life long best friends".)  In the wake of his death, that is more apparent than ever.  I'm sad that we haven't been in close touch for the last few years. I'm sad that I didn't know him as a husband and a father more than just a phone call here and an email there.  I'm sad that he never met my children.  Mostly, I'm sad that I took one of the most amazing friendships I'll ever know for granted.  I just thought he'd always be there.  Jim has reminded me to hold my husband, kids, friends tighter than I ever have before.  Let them know how much I love them every single day.  To stop worrying about the things that do not matter.  To get outside and love this country that God has created for us.

In September of 2011, Amber gave birth to their beautiful baby girl, Audrey James.  I know Audrey has given Amber and AJ so much joy; as I look at her, there is a palpable feeling that someone is missing, that this isn't how it should be.  I want my friend to be here to father his daughter that resembles him so.  There are just some things in the broken world that we will never understand this side of Heaven.  I'm just so grateful to have Amber in my life.  I regret not knowing her better while Jim was still with us, but she has given me great peace to know his faith was strong, that I will indeed see my friend again in Heaven, and that the last many years of his life with her were truly spent in abundant love and blessings.  She encourages and inspires me to live my daily life with a fuller heart.  Being in touch with her and with a few of Jim's other close friends and family has helped me heal.  

Amber shared his favorite bible verse: 1 Corinthians 13:13 " For now there are faith, hope, and love. But of these three, the greatest is love." (CEV)

Rest in peace my friend.  Thank you for all the wonderful memories.  For all the times I rolled my eyes at your crazy antics, endured your lateness, and cried on your shoulder, I have a story, a smile, and a laugh to go with.  I hope you know how proud I am of the man that you became! 


Thank you for the years of friendship, thank you for the incredible people that you introduced me to, and thank you for being a force that changed me.  You changed me all those years ago, now again, and forever.  I will see you again, my friend, in Heaven.  Until then, I miss you, and I hold you in my heart.

What I said...

As you know I lost my friend Julie on October 10th.

Today I spoke at Julie's memorial service and here is what I said...

"Hi, my name is Jenny, I am a friend and coworker of Julie's, and until Julie got cancer we were just normal work friends. We talked about stuff around the office and had casual conversations about our personal lives. She gave me sweet advice about not sweating the small stuff since I was planning my wedding when I met her in 2002. She knew what she was talking about in that department, having definitely showed a great example of an amazing marriage looked like. It was after she was diagnosed, and she started her blog, it was then that I got to deeply know her. And through that, she changed me. Her dignified battle and humor and wit through it has been an inspiration to me, and how I live my life. I wanted to do something for her, something tangible to show support, so I organized a team to walk in a cancer benefit walk in her name. She was touched, so deeply.

I was thinking the other day about how much Julie would have liked to go on for years with the title of 'cancer survivor', and how unfair it is that she cannot, I was reminded that it is something did get to experience. During that first Making Strides Cancer walk that we did together in her name, she got to make a lap with the other survivors. She was in remission for the first time and feeling strong enough to finish the entire 5K holding a sign she's fashioned with a long (heavy) wooden pole and a pillow case with the numerous names of the people who inspired her and who been affected by cancer. As I watched Julie make that survivor lap, with tears in my eyes, I both was proud to know her and honored to witness her own pride in herself. She did it. Of course that wasn't the end of Julie's battle, but I'm so glad she was able to know that victory, feel that victory, and be recognized in such an exhibition as the true survivor that she is.

As I said, I came to know Julie more intimately through her blog, and her words touched me. As I read back through it this week, looking for a few meaningful passages I wanted to share, they were numerous. There was no way I could do her justice reading just a few lines. I'm so grateful that we have her writing to look back over and to remember her...to continue to be inspired by her.

April 2009
A few days after her last chemo in April of 2009, she was writing about looking forward to a day of feeling not yucky (she promised that was an technical oncology term). She wrote of the ailments that she still struggled with and how she couldn't wait for those to pass. And she wrote:

But just today I was reading The Hotel New Hampshire by John Irving, and came across this:

“Human beings are remarkable – at what we can learn to live with,” ... “If we couldn’t get strong from what we lose, and what we miss, and what we want and can’t have,” ... “then we couldn’t ever get strong enough, could we? What else makes us strong?” ...

In September 2009 she wrote of feeling like she was finally "Back in the game" after sitting through 2 years of her life, sitting on the sidelines...she was having a hard time shaking what she described beautifully as "cancer colored lenses". The (rose) optimism, the (blue) grief, the (green) envy, the (black) fear, the (red)anger. This speaks to her wisdom.

She wrote of those with terminal cancer before she was speaking of herself and she said:

"But for someone for whom the “new normal” is to live their life with ongoing treatment and an unsure future, is there life without the glasses? To deal with it at all is something [for them] to be proud of; and it is our job, as their friends and family, to be on the outside of whatever lenses they wear, providing a pool of love and normalcy for them to dip into when they need it, and can handle it.

Of course, that is true for even us curable cancer patients – I had an ocean of love and normalcy around me due to all the friends and family who supported me and let me know they were there even when things were difficult. I would not have had the courage to remove the cancer lenses without them. I can only hope to be part of such a source for those I love who need it in their turn"

Could she have possibly known how her survival and ongoing fight with cancer could lead to be such a source of courage for those of us who loved her? For friends, known and unknown.

Julie, now that your battle is finished, and you did not win it the way you would have like to defined "win". I hope you know that your life made a difference. If it made such an impact on someone like me, who only knew you for a relative few number of years, and we only scratched the surface of who you really are, I can't imagine the souls you have touched during your fifty years on this earth, and those you will continue to touch through your beautiful words and through your legacy.

Thank you, dear friend.

Julie

Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Huh. I'm feeling very aware, and very sad.

Last night my friend, my co-worker, left this world after losing a hearty battle with breast cancer.

Julie has written about her battle and journey that started in 2007 when she found a lump. Since then she's had 2 recurrences. The third time it was terminal.

Julie taught me a lot about cancer. She was very scientific and well educated on the topic, having lost several of the important women in her life to the disease. She was a smart and well-read woman with a great sense of humor. She has been a real inspiration for me. She knew how to fight, and fight with a smile. She was a stone. She reminded me to *always* encourage my daughters to dance any where, any time they wanted.

I kept trying to write Julie one final letter. But I couldn't find the words. I commented on her blog nearly every post, in lieu of writing this letter. Usually I couldn't find the words then either. But I couldn't say nothing either. Just like now. I don't want to write this post. I don't want this to be true, and I don't know how to give words to it. I just want to stop writing and go to sleep. I guess that's the kind of heart wrenching grief this causes. Tired grief. And at the same time, after the last few weeks when the quality of who she is was gone, we'd all just been waiting. So there is also a sigh of relief, that it is over for her. There have been a few weeks to grieve, only 2 months since they stopped the chemo. But my heart breaks for her husband, Brian who is left with a giant hole in his life. In March found out that the tumors in her liver had metastasized, she was canceling her May birthday trip to Thailand to start chemo again, and yesterday she is gone.

I'm sad, I'm tired, I have so much more to say, but I don't know how to say it. I don't know what to say. Good bye dear friend. You will be missed. And always admired.

Sad things sorry - and a nutshell.

Wow. Can't believe so many people read this blog. I'd never know it by the number of comments I get in a given week...

So, I guess I really upset a lot of you by posting that I had some sadness to write about. Sorry for that. I have to laugh a little thought because some of you who criticized me for leaving you hanging...don't let me into your lives at ALL. Good or bad! Hanging or full disclosure! It's okay to need to process sad things and it's okay to want to write about them. It's also okay to not be able to. Still, I didn't want to worry anyone. I guess I wanted to say that while I do have some sad things, I'm really doing okay. Just penning up some emotions that might better be let out.

I keep trying and I can't. I'm all blocked up when I try to write with any structure or coherence. It's hard to give the feelings any words. And then after making an statement about needing to write about sad things, and being jumped on, I really can't write. Maybe a nutshell will help, I don't know...

For those of you who don't know, my little brother has been deployed to Iraq and is in his last weeks of training in Mississippi before leaving the country for over a year. He is my only sibling and he is a very big deal to me. I want to write a lot about him and how I'm feeling (or the feelings that I'm not feeling, stuffing away, later to haunt me or make me cry at inopportune moments). I have friends who have husbands deployed with my little bro. And their sadness is so raw, I don't know what do with it all (future guest post by Melinda coming very soon). At the same time we said goodbye to Matt, Sabine also left. I have more to write about her goodbye, but I can't, not just yet. I got to wake up to see her face every day for almost a year, and I really miss seeing her so much. It's such a weird experience having someone be so close to your family, living with you, seeing the good, the bad, and the crazy, and then having them gone to be seen who-knows-when. I knew it would happen but it doesn't make me less sad. People think that because Julia is such a great AuPair, then I shouldn't miss Sabine. But I don't miss having a good AuPair, our Julia is an AMAZING AuPair, so I do have that. It's just that I miss my Bean-Bean. Just like being with one friend doesn't make you miss another friend less. I'm worried for my friend Jeanine and her mom, my heart aches for them and losing Jack a few weeks ago. And I haven't been able to talk in length with Jeanine to find out how she is doing and how they are coping. But I know the man that Jack was deserves a million posts plus one!

And then the really tragic news. On Friday, Julia's good friend was killed in a car accident. Her name was Sarah, and she was 23. She was from Julia's small hometown in Germany of 1000 people. She has been in the US for about 6 weeks, in South Carolina to study for a year. She is the oldest of 4 and her family and Julia's families are very very close to each other. Obviously the news of this, has been devastating to all of those who loved her. And even though I didn't know her, this loss for Julia and her family is weighing heavily on my heart. I want to be whatever love and support I can to my sweet girl in this time of mourning. And I pray for comfort over all the mother's in this situation. It's hard to know what to do when someone is filled with raw grief. I feel grateful that in the times that there are no words to say, Bryson's smiles seem to genuinely brighten Julia's days, even when she is feeling very down. Babies have that gift. It's hard to understand God's plan and trust him in a tragedy such as this, but we do know with certainty that she was welcomed into His loving arms. Even though it leaves a big hole for those that knew her, here on earth.

In addition to that, breast cancer is about to claim the life of my friend Julie (if it hasn't already and I just haven't gotten the news). We've all been waiting, holding our breath when we check the blog, and having mixed feelings about what we will see there. Yesterday they thought she was breathing her last breaths, but now we don't know more...

It's among some of this sadness that I do find perspective. But perspective doesn't make it less sad. If you pray, and feel so inclined, you can pray for Julie's husband, Brian; for all the people who loved Sarah, and for her little sisters and little brother, for her mom and dad; you can pray for my Julia's family, that while grieving for their friends, they can trust that their daughter will come home safely to them and that we will take good care of her; pray for the safety of my brother and that of Juan Garcia while in Iraq, pray for Jeanine, Colleen, Nycole, & Aristeo as they attempt to have peace about the void that losing Jack has left in their lives. And while your at, give a little thanks for all the good things He's doing in your life. Open you eyes and just look, you'll see it. I sure am.

So each of these things deserves more words and more time and more care. This certainly didn't feel very therapeutic. But I can't leave you all worried out there, now can I?

Some sad things

There are some sad things that I need to write about. Things that I've been avoiding. I don't like to be depressing and I don't like to mope. But my throat is tight, and I need to process. Writing here does this. And it allows for support. And it ensures that the sad things that happen, don't go unnoticed. So here is some advanced warning that the next week or so will be sad around here, or however long it takes. Sad things give us a lot of perspective, and the ability to see all that is good in our lives as well.

April 7th - Remembering Maddie. And Waiting on Baby S...

Today is important for two reasons. Two very different reasons.

Today it has been one year since seventeen month old Madeline Spohrs passed from her mother's arm. One whole year. I'm am so sad for Mike and Heather. So sad and so grateful. Heather's blog has taken me on many highs and many lows, and I've appreciated my own children, the little moments, the hard moments so much more because of her words and her raw and honest grief. I've snuggled a little longer. I've loved a little sweeter. I've held on a little tighter. I wasn't going to read Heather's blog this morning before writing this, but I did. And now I'm sitting here in tears because of the sadness she's feeling, and the sadness I'd feel if my two girls were to never know each other. And for the joy that I feel for my healthy children and my happy life. Through Heather's blog, I found Sally, and eventually Margaret...someone who has also become very dear to me. I loved Heather's post today because she knows that Maddie has touched millions of people in her short life time. Maddie has changed lives that she never knew. I hope we can all say that about our lives when they are over.

The second reason today is special is for a happier occasion. It marks the due date for another dear friend, Lynnette. Lynnette and her husband, G, have been praying for a second child since before we started thinking about having Addie. Almost four years now. Their wish to give K a little brother or sister has taken them on a long and winding journey, and they've trusted God and His plan for their family. Lynnette's faith and desire to follow that plan has been a true encouragement to all of us who know her. She is a beautiful wife, mother, friend, and sister. And today, after 4 long years of praying for this child, wanting him/her so much, but deciding to be happy with whatever God chose for them, her son or daughter is due to be born. I'm lucky and blessed to have worked with Lynnette for that past 8 years, we've shared in so many joys of motherhood, working, pumping, venting, laughing, crying together. In some ways she has been my sanity, especially in the early years of new motherhood. She has been a great inspiration to me in many ways to be more selfless, to let go of things that I cannot control, and to ignore things that do not matter. The baby that Lynnette will deliver within the next week (we hope!) is so lucky to be loved and raised by this mother and this father. So much love awaits.

Please join me in praying for a healthy and safe delivery for Lynnette and baby S and a smooth transition as their family of 3 becomes a family of 4. Lynnette and G take on a lot of responsibility caring for other members of the family, and I pray that time, health, and space will allow that they can nurture their own new little family as K becomes a big sis; while they continue to meet the needs of other loved ones.

Please pray for peace for the Spohrs family, as they reflect on this day, let their hearts be filled with the happy memories of Maddie's goodness and sweetness, and let their minds forget the horror etched from the hospital bed a year ago when she took her last breath. Let them feel Maddie's presence, and may they dream of her tonight.

Let us all reflect on the year that has passed. Look forward to the warmer springtime that gives new life and a fresh perspective to all our trials. May we be strong, wise, and positive in our daily roles. I hope you can be joyful in your day and may you find peace in your sorrows. There is so much goodness for us all, don't move so fast that you aren't able to see it. I encourage you as I remind myself.

When it rains it pours

So many times I wonder how much more we can take. Not we the Herman's but "we" as people I know or sort of know or pass on the street or ride next to on the max. Bad things are continually happening to people. And it's hard to see or care other people's struggles as we look so closely at our own.

But not for me.

I feel and worry and obsess about the pain of other people. I mean I really FEEL other people's pain. I wonder how I can manage to complain about my own difficulties in my wonderful life while others are suffering losses and pain that I pray I will never know.

As you know - the blog world has led me to Heather, and Sally, and Anissa, and Jennifer. I've also found a new friend in Margaret. There is something about reading about the raw emotion and pain each of these people are going through that almost brings me to my knees with sorrow, but also with gratefulness. A busy working mom shouldn't have time to think about these things, especially when I have so many friends in real life who rely on me. But I do. And I don't know how to change that about myself, and I guess I don't really want to either. Of course I read funny blogs too, like Lindsey and Kristin and Mommy Spills. Not every day. Not every week. But I find a connection with moms with lives outside of my own. There is a connection of strangers who relate to each other and who are open to share their lives...

One of my new blog friends lost her newborn son last year - and she is raising her two daughters - and working through a marriage - all while figuring out a life of constant grief. I could see a change in her voice as she started to be open to the possibly of joy for this holiday season, after suffering swine flu while mourning the one year anniversary of her son's passing. She made a decision that she was ready to stop feeling so bad and find a way to feel better. At least some days. And then her husband lost his job. And not just her husband. Her father and brother in law and their good friend. All lost their jobs as of Dec 15, a large part of their support circle. I'm crushed for her. Not because I know how hard it is when a husband loses a job emotionally and not because they have to worry about keeping a roof over their head instead of what gifts to spoil their girls with. But because WHY HER? WHY NOW? She was JUST getting back on the road to positive mental thinking. And I'm worried about her spirit being crushed. I'd like to think that this is nothing compared to what she has already endured but at the same time, I wonder if she just wants to curl up in a ball and give up. I don't know her, but I don't think she'll do that. After all, she's got two beautiful girls to get up for each morning. She's got a son in heaven who needs her to put one foot in front of the other each day. I just wish, with my whole heart that she didn't have to worry about her husband's (and FIL and BIL's) job right now. She writes her story because "every life leaves something beautiful behind", and she does a really good job of honoring her baby boy while working through how to outlive your child.

And I think, we only had to worry about one lost job and an unemployment hearing, and it was only 2.5 months, and we are SO so so lucky. We made it through this "disaster" and it while it was inconvenient and stressful, it was also just that. It did not happen while I was trying to keep my heart in my chest. We kept our spirits up and it was the only thing on our plate that was a loss.

I think about how Nancy endured Ryan's injury in Iraq, just 4 years ago. How she held on tight to hope, never gave up, wrote his story beautifully, and now has an amazing life she could have never imagined. How her friend Dena's nightmare started a year ago, losing her husband Rob to the war, an incredible man, and how she is doing her best, making the best of it - because that's what you do when you have 2 little girls depending on you. Her faith is inspiring to me.

These women, wives, mothers, daughters, have captured my heart. I have never met them, but I care about them. I'm not sure what purpose it plays in my life. I'm not sure how I am put here to help or encourage any of them. But I am sure that I'm not wasting my time or my heart, caring about them and praying for them.

I've told you how my good friend Robin lost her brother almost two years ago. And how I've mourned with this beautiful family as they struggled. Now Bronson is being honored in the Rose parade this year, the two year anniversary of his death, because his lost life gave life to 6 strangers. ~I also have to mention my friend Kim, whose baby Julia is the light of their life. Their plans were changed forever when they found out at 20 weeks about her heart condition, plus many other complications. But here she is 6 months old, and they got to see a smile. Kim's positive attitude and faith also amazes and encourages me. Last year at this time, Kim and I sat at a baby shower brunch as she told me her biggest worry about life with 3 kids was how she could continue her morning run with all three of them. How life has changed, and what a blessing Julia is, as she is, as long as they get to keep her.

God gave me a very big heart. And He gave me a very blessed life. And He blessed their lives too, even in their tragedies, He gave them a story to tell, a legacy to carry on, a too-short-life's memory to honor. So each day they wake up and they carry on, one foot in front of the other, until they remember their blessings and they get a little skip back in their step.

For whatever reason, every step of their journey is beautiful to me, and I am blessed through their struggles. I wish that these were not the circumstances for them, but they are, and through the world of blogging, they are touching lives. Ones who can relate so closely and so dearly, and ones who can't. People like me who are more grateful every day, thanks to them.

What is blessed? It's the ability to count your blessing. It's being able to look at the good in your life even during the hard times. It's remembering the goodness that surrounds each of us.

Thank you ladies for being amazing and beautiful and inspiring. My life is forever changed because of the things you have endured. Thank you for sharing your stories with me.

7 blogs in 7 days - day 6 - Maddie

Maddie.

This is a blog I wanted to start on 5/7/09. This is a blog I haven't finished because I feel that I can't eloquently do it justice. This is a blog about a little girl who I never met, and never will, but one who I shed tears over several times a week.

I started reading this blog sometime toward the beginning of the year, when I started writing on blogspot and realized there were a plethora of mom blogs that I could relate to and loved. Heather Spohrs was a first time mom who had the funniest observations about life with a toddler when I "met" her. She always had me laughing and nodding. I wanted to be her real life friend. She had a daughter that was a few months younger than Addie who was born premature (her water broke at 19 weeks and Maddie was born at 29 weeks after 10 weeks of bed rest and no good news from the beginning of the pregnancy). She had to endure a lot but by the time I found her blog, she was finally in the safe zone, with a lot of medical hassles related to Maddie's chronic lung disease due to her premature birth and rough first few months. But Maddie was a healthy and vibrant little girl, to say the least. I also particularly enjoyed this blog because her husband, Mike, kept a dad blog. And it was fun reading about things in the same household from the male prospective.

At the beginning of April Heather wrote of an April fool's joke on her dad and Maddie enjoying big girls playing softball at the park. Then on April 6 Maddie got admitted to the hospital because her oxygen numbers were low. When I logged in on April 8 to check in on my friend and her little girl- no go, I couldn't get on to the blog. I didn't think much of it, until I read on another mom's blog that Maddie had passed away. All over the blog community there were tributes to Maddie but no one seemed to know what happened. I was crushed, and I certainly wasn't the only one. Heather's blog readers from all over have supported her in many ways, and I'm not the only one grieving with her day after day. So many, just like me, have never met this family that they care so much about.

That was 5 months ago. And I've been wanting to write my tribute to Maddie ever since. And I haven't found the words. A lot has changed since then. In fact, Heather and Mike started trying to make Maddie a big sister before she passed. And they found out after, that they did, and that Heather is pregnant. Reading daily about Heather's raw grief and truth in the roller coaster life that she is living, gives so much prospective to my own. To my own healthy, living children, to my own healthy pregnancy. I cry with her not understanding how she bears it. And I know she doesn't either...just barely getting through each day, most of the time.

At first I felt a little embarrassed by how the tragedy of someone I never knew could affect me this much. On a daily basis. I think of Heather every single day, for five months. I worry about her on the days she doesn't post. Lawrence always thinks I take on the worries of too many people, and I know I do. But this is different than most, maybe because I can't do anything to help her. I'm not taking on her burden as my own, just really hurting for a fellow mom. I haven't been able to get this family out of my mind. And I cherish my own more every time I read a post of Heather's. I'm thankful for the bedtime battles she wishes she was having, I'm thankful for the misbehaving that she should be correcting. And I'm thankful for the meltdowns that she'd love to be ignoring. Of course, every kiss and every word and every "I love you mama" melts my heart, and I remember that I'm blessed to get each one of these. Yesterday I talked of doing a better job tomorrow. I'm blessed to have a tomorrow to do better, but none of us know how many more we will have. A daily reminder of a grief stricken mom helps me to remember that and do my best even better. Heather would love to wake up with poopy face marks on her white comforter.

I know that through the link on my side bar, many of you have started reading Heather's blog. And you have been drawn in by her the same way that I have. She is a wonderful mom, and I pray that her little "Binky" will be born full term, safe and sound. But she's got a ways to go, and the road is not easy, it is a high risk pregnancy, and she's struggling through each day to find hope while still freshly mourning the light of her life. And although Binky could never replace Maddie, I'm so thankful that Binky has given them something to live for.

Now that I've finally written this blog. It still isn't enough. There are no words to express how much I hurt for this mother that I have never met. I can only pray and hold my breath and keep reading about her journey while I savor my own.

http://friendsofmaddie.org/

This precious generation.

This morning I found out that Lawrence's Great Aunt passed away. Even though I have never met her I felt very sad when I heard the news, the threat of tears stinging my eyes. The lump in my throat hasn't gone away. Perhaps it is deep and genuine sadness I feel for Carol, my mother-in-law and her loss, perhaps it is thinking about the pain that Betty's children and grandchildren are feeling right now, and perhaps it is the realization that there are fewer of my grandparents generation each day. This precious generation.

In any case, I wanted to write that I am sorry for those that are hurting over the loss of their loved one, Betty Berkowitz, and in my sadness I thought, for a woman who lived as long as she did with lots of stories left to tell, someone should dedicate their blog to her today.

Reminding us all to appreciate our loved ones, don't sweat the small stuff, and to take each day with our elders as a true gift.

This one is for you, Aunt Betty, may you rest in peace, may comfort be with your loved ones, and may your sore, aged, parkinson's body now feel free of pain and young again.

Rest in Peace...still

Today as we get ready to celebrate a New Year, I want to remember a friend, a brother, a son, and an uncle, who rang in his last new year with 2008. Please remember to count all of the blessings you had in 2008, and to remember each and every day that we only know we have today with the ones we love.




I knew I wanted to write this blog for a while now, and every time I thought of writing, I felt a little sick about what I would say. I knew that I couldn't celebrate my New Year without taking the time to think of the Parsons family and to remember Bronson. I feel sick the way I felt sick a year ago when I got a tragic call from Robin last New Year's Day and I didn't know what to say. I still don't know what to say, but I'm going to give it a try.

Today has been one year since our friend Bronson Parsons was hit by a drunk driver, while walking home, late on New Years Eve and killed. He was 25.

In one year, not a day has gone by that I don't hurt for his mom, Carol. She is almost all I can think about sometimes. Most of you know that he was the brother of my good friend, Robin. Robin was my roommate in college, and she was the matron of honor in my wedding, her parents, Carol and Paul, attended our wedding and celebrate their wedding anniversary with us each year. I have been close to their family since college, Lawrence loved them as soon as he met them a few years later. But Carol, Bronson's mother, is who I always think about. My heart hurts for her. It has been heart wrenching to hear about each member of their family dealing with the grief differently, and at times causing each other more grief. I think about how as a mother, you just want to take away everyone's pain, and keep everyone happy and together. Trying to do this while the tragic reality sets in, must, at times be too much to bear. But as a mother, you would have to choice to but keep on keepin' on.

Though I know that one year does not take away the hurt or the memories or the past. I hope and pray that somehow as time heals wounds it will help ease the sharpness of the pain. Carol, Paul, Robin, Erin...all really wonderful people. All dealing as best they can, trying to allow each other do what they need to do, even though it can sometimes be hard to understand or relate or not worry about what will help and what makes more hurt. Grief is sickening and it doesn't go away. It's affects areas further reaching than we can ever know.

I hope they found some comfort in him helping 6 others an an organ donor. Recently they heard through the grapevine of the man who received one of Bronson's lungs. He was a father near their hometown who was out hunting with his son for the first time in years. Bronson loved to hunt and it is just what he would have wanted his lung to be out doing.

My friend Robin is such a rock for her parents, her sister, her kids... Her old friends, her new friends, her neighbors, her husband, her community...I could go on. I worry about her because it's a lot of work being such a rock. But I know that she finds comfort and purpose in being that strength to her loved ones and I admire her ability to put her foot down when someone crosses the line. She is firm, honest, and frank, in a loving and warm way. She is kind and strong. Her family could not, would not, have survived this without her. I'm so sad for my friend, that she lost her only brother, and the uncle to her children. But it's different than the sadness I feel for her mom. I think that this must be what happens to you when you become a mother. You relate to other mothers worries in a way you didn't know possible, and often wish you couldn't. Carol is wonderful and positive, looking for glimpses of what good could come of this, and trying her hardest to help her surviving children and husband get through it. But I often lay awake at night, thinking of the pit I feel in my own stomach, and imagining her pit being a million times more painful.

After several paragraphs, I still don't feel like I've done justice to remembering Bronson, on this, the one year anniversary of his death. A date meant for partying and celebrating, not mourning. Though I guess those that knew Bronson might feel that he would want them to party on in his honor. Even so, I'd guess his family will have a hard time doing that this year. I hope I've said that I love and adore his family, I pray for them often. I'm proud of them, especially Robin and Carol, for finding the "good" in the bad. I hurt for them, I miss Bronson with them, I mourn still with them. For now, I can tell a few of my favorite memories of Bronson, and keep praying for healing for all.

I want them to remember that memories of Bronson many people smile.

~~

When Robin got married in 1998 Bronson must have been 14 or 15. Will and I thought he was so funny, he was tall and lanky and sort of at that awkward stage of have a body too big and long for himself. I think he was sneaking drinks from the bar and was dancing like crazy. Will said that he was 'loose like a long neck goose'. It was so fitting and true and FUNNY!

The nickname stuck for him, until the next time we saw him, he'd grown from awkward and lanky into a tall solid man.

In 2002, shortly after our wedding, Paul and his friend came from Troy, MT to a PSU vs UofMt game. Robin and Trevor came to visit too. Bronson had just moved to Portland, following his girlfriend who was attending PSU. We had a GREAT time watching college football all day with the whole Parsons/Cummings clan first at our little apartment, then to the game. It was so fun to start our Portland State rivalry tradition with them, with years of crazy adventures that still make us laugh. This year we went to the game, and while we had fun, it just wasn't the same without Paul, Robin, and Bronson.

In 2003, Lawrence and I and Bronson flew to Spokane, rented a car and drove to Missoula for Homecoming. We all had to work so we didn't leave Portland until 5pm Friday, got to Spokane and 6pm, got out of the airport at 7pm (8pm Missoula time) and raced our way across the state line. Lawrence drove, I had shotgun, Bronson had middle back. He had his seat belt on but it felt like his face was right between Lawrence's and mine the whole ride. We passed signs that said how far it was to Missoula. Missoula 170, Missoula 165, Missoula 162, Missoula 161. You have got to be kidding me? Seriously, we are on I-90, not much between Spokane and Missoula that we need an update EVERY mile almost. So we started a little game, guessing what the next sign would be. Whoever guessed the closest (without going over of course), was owed a beer by the loser. More rules to the game progressed as far as who got to chose their number in what order. The funniest part of this game was that we ended the game when we were around Frenchtown and it was Missoula 9 miles. NINE MILES. We played this game from 170-9 miles, everyone was owed 20 or so beers due to the 60 or so signs showing distance to Missoula. None of us once said "Isn't it weird that we are STILL playing this game" or "Hey guys, look how long we have been playing it" No no. We were all EAGERLY playing it, waiting for the next sign in anticipation, and couldn't wait for the next guess.

That same same trip we saw Bronson out at the Bodega and he made some close minded remark about something, Robin and I tried our hardest to open his 20ish year old mind, with no luck. He was a stubborn know it all with a very strong will. Robby and I rolled our eyes at him, and how he had so much to learn about the world. (We knew, we too grew up in small town, and thought we knew it all when we got to the city). The next day we had a flight out of Spokane at 7pm and had the whole day at Lake Coeur d'Alene , it was very enjoyable...ate ice cream, read the paper by the lake. We were glad that we had Bronson with us that trip, he was so fun and funny. Now, looking back, we are even gladder.

There were a few other times we saw Bronson, when his family came to Portland to see us, we also saw him, had our numbers in each other's cell phones, and said we should get together some time but never did. Bronson had a big goofy smile and usually brought a fun crazy time with him. He was still figuring out things in the world, and hadn't gotten it all right yet (who of us has). But he was so young, and there is the shame. There were lots and lots of times Robby and I discussed our younger clueless brothers, wondering when they'd pull their heads out. Wishing we could impart our unending wisdom on them, mothering them and smothering them with our 'my way is right'-ness. Now I feel a little strange complaining about it alone to her. She still gets it though. And so do I, and I remember to be grateful for my family. For my brother and for my mom.

Mr. Bronson Parsons, I'm glad I knew you as you became a man. I'm glad you lived in Portland and we got the chance to see you often. I'm sad that you are gone. A lot of people are. I'm glad it was through no fault of your own. I miss you and so do many, many others.