Sharing my mourning journey as my family learns to live a new normal after the death of my 19 y.o. son in an auto accident on 10/12/08.

Archive for the ‘gifts’ Category

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When the doorbell rang this afternoon, my first thought was, “solicitors” and I was right. Through the door I saw the telltale id tag on the lanyard. I sighed as I opened the door. As the volunteer introduced himself, I looked down at his clipboard and saw, “PIRG” stamped on the front. Tears welled in my eyes as he started his well-rehearsed speech. He of course had no idea that PIRG was the organization where Jordan interned the summer before he died; or that I would start to cry when he mentioned the credit card reform legislation recently passed by Congress. Jordan worked on that legislation. The group he was assigned at PIRG drafted key wording and lobbied Congress for passage of the bill that affected the marketing of credit cards to college students (Think about all of those banks readily handing out credit cards to eager college students.)

Jordan loved working in Washington DC, in particular on Capitol Hill. He would call me during the week to tell me about the “drops” he did of information packets to key lawmakers. He was also very fond of the cafeteria on Capitol Hill. Seeing the PIRG volunteer today brought back some wonderful memories and compelled me to reread emails Jordan sent me that summer. When I have encounters like the one today with the unsuspecting volunteer, I feel Jordan’s presence and get a reminder that he’s not too far away.

Another Reminder

Jordan typically wrote his first name and then instead of writing his hyphenated last name, he would write his initials: M.-F. He always complained about having a hyphenated last name and said that when he got married he would probably take the surname of his wife. I would tease him saying, “No, don’t do that. Be sexist, keep our name(s) going.”

Recently through one of Jordan’s friends, Jordan’s use of his initials took on more meaning. Jordan remained connected until his death to a group of friends that he met the summer before his junior year of high school at a program called Telluride Association of Sophomore Seminars (TASS). Even after that summer, the TASS kids maintained their friendships through texting and FaceBook. They also saw each other at a reunion hosted by TASS before they were off to college.  The program had such an impact on Jordan that he planned to apply to be a counselor. This summer might have been the one where he fulfilled that goal. Jordan’s TASS friends continue to keep in touch with each other and got together in NY this past summer for a reunion. Several of them remain close to my family and check-in with us, always reminding us how Jordan always spoke of his family especially his siblings.

DeAntwann, a friend of Jordan’s from TASS, wasn’t able to attend the “Express Yourself” event. He wanted to be a part of the evening though, and emailed me a poem expressing his memories of Jordan. Through his poem my world of Jordan expanded. I am so gratified to keep learning new things about my son. His friends are a gift.  I am so happy to share what DeAntwann wrote about Jordan:

Monday-Friday…

You were supposed to be the next Black President,

When I met you winds howling outside calmed down to a stand still,

Your demeanor so calm, so collective, so smooth,

I instantly thought to myself “man this guy is cool”,

And cool you were,

Delicately touching our hearts with your words,

You were wise beyond your years,

I picked up pounds of knowledge from you and I thank you,

I knew you for six weeks but it felt like eternity,

It was like we grew up together,

Childhood friends,

That knew everything about each other,

Favorite color,

Favorite song,

Things friends should know about each other,

I remember distinctively you coming to TASS with a knowledge of Hip Hop,

Pure Hip Hop,

Common, Lupe, Talib, and others I haven’t heard of until our encounter,

Easing that Chi-Town State of Mind on us,

You enlightened me without even trying,

You were the mediator,

Counseling any dispute that we had,

We went to you for our problems,

We went to you for answers,

When you passed away, my world started moving in slow motion,

I began to see it unfold,

Life was moving so fast and losing a friend held it to a stand still like rush hour traffic,

I still have a hard time knowing that you are gone,

But I know you are in a better place,

With every breath I know you watch over us,

We use to call you Jordan Monday-Friday,

Because everyday of the week we can count on you for anything,

Monday-Friday your heart was open to us,

Monday-Friday your friendship spoke volumes to us,

We miss Jordan Monday-Friday,

Even on the weekends…

Category:

college, gifts, high school, loss of child, mourning

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Cleansing Breaths

This past weekend I felt as though I was in the presence of a miracle. I would appreciate the impressions and comments of all my readers in the comments section. Thank you

On Friday night torrential rains steadily pounded the roof and windows of my house all night. When I got out of bed Saturday morning, the rain had stopped and the sun was reclaiming its place in the sky. Absentmindedly I traipsed down my basement stairs to retrieve a towel from the laundry room. I stopped on the last stair right before stepping into a pool of water on the floor. Every inch of our basement was flooded with about 3 inches of water. Mark had just gotten home at 5:30 that morning from a business trip. The storm delayed his flight and the flooded streets made a 30-minute drive home take two hours. I didn’t have the heart to awaken him and tell him what task lay ahead of us for the day.

My mother and sister Julie were visiting. I came upstairs so disappointed that the day of relaxing, talking and just being together I’d envisioned for us had to be changed. As soon as my mother and sister took a look at the basement their only response was, “Well let’s get started.” I found rain boots for all of us and we began carting rain soaked items from the basement. Our basement is unfinished except for the laundry room. We’ve lived in our house a little over two years and the basement has been the repository for everything from furniture from our old house, moving boxes filled with “don’t know what to do with” items, to out of season clothes in plastic containers. We laid the items that we could salvage on the driveway even though the forecast called for more rain. With each rain soaked item that we brought to the driveway, the sun shone brighter and we felt assured that we would be able to finish clearing out the basement without the threat of rain.

As Mama, Julie and I continued to haul items from the basement, Mark awoke and after having breakfast joined us. Most of the boxes and plastic bags I looked through held items that Mark and I had been meaning to give away or throw away. We gathered up the clothes and books that were not damaged and put them in the back of the car so they could be given to a charity we routinely gave donations. Mark and I said in amazement to each other more than once as we cleaned, that the storm forced us to handle a task that we had put off for far too long.

Just as the motions of clearing, sorting and cleaning started to feel routine, Mama pointed to several plastic bags under a workbench and asked me, “What’s in those?” I told her I didn’t know and continued talking to her as I opened the first bag just like I’d done so many others that morning. I peered in and saw the backpack Jordan used in college. I dropped the bag and started moaning, “Oh no, oh no.” I stood by the bags and cried, regretting that Jordan’s backpack had been ruined. My mother came over and held me as I cried.

I finally took a deep breath and looked through the other bags. They held some of Jordan’s clothes and towels from his belongings that were shipped home after he died. I’d gone through his things and washed all of the clothes I knew we wanted to keep. Several times I’d tried to throw away these bags that I stood crying over. Each time I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. I knew they would never be used but they were Jordan’s and that was my rationale for keeping them. Now they were soaked with rainwater. Mark came over to me and gently asked what I wanted to do with the bags. Through tears I told him, “We have to throw them out. They’re all ruined. We have to throw them out.” I took one of many deep cleansing breaths that day to calm myself so I could keep working.

We continued working only breaking for lunch. As we sat eating, Mark said he thought we were pretty much done with clearing out the basement. I reminded him as I had earlier that water also got into the small room directly across from the stairs. He looked at me after I spoke and sighed. I held his gaze because like him I knew the hardest part of the day was before us. The room I referred to held the moving boxes from Jordan’s room in our old house as well as the computer that he used in high school.

When we moved I’d told Jordan that he would have to sort through the boxes from his old room. He joked with me that he didn’t mind if I wanted to unpack them. We’d gone back and forth about his boxes; him hoping I’d unpack them for him, me letting him know that they’d be waiting for him when he came home. We moved in January of 2008. Jordan was home for a few days during his Spring break and only a few weeks during the summer. He never got around to his boxes. Even when he left for his sophomore year of college, I teased him saying his boxes would be waiting for him when he came home. Six weeks after leaving for school Jordan was killed in the car accident. He didn’t get to come home from school anymore.

Even though I tried to normalize the storage room that held Jordan’s boxes by storing other household items there it was still a wistful place. Every time I went into that little room to get a roll of paper towels or to retrieve snow boots or snow pants for the girls, I looked at Jordan’s boxes. I would sometimes peer into them but I always stopped myself from looking further. I wasn’t sure I could take such a long look at all the memories of Jordan’s childhood and adolescence that those boxes held.

As we set out to clean the storage room, Mark and I felt foolish and reckless for potentially losing mementos of Jordan because we were too filled with sorrow to go through his boxes. Then the storm came and the choice of cleaning out the boxes was made for us. As Mark and I started opening boxes I saw so many books that Jordan cherished! Just looking at the eclectic assortment, from Homer’s “The Odyssey” to “The Rose that Grew from Concrete,” by Tupac Shakur I was so proud of my “Renaissance Man” son. I wept over the books that could not be salvaged; and I wept as I painstakingly dried the pages of other books I was determined to keep.

Jordan holding a book he got for his 15th birthday

Mark continued to clear the room and then he came across a box that held a folder with essays Jordan wrote during a summer internship and his high school backpack. Inside the backpack were a computer keyboard, the cord to Jordan’s drum machine, his swimming trunks from his pre-college summer as a lifeguard and a partially used tube of sunscreen. He held up each item with his mouth downturned and tears in his eyes. The backpack with all its contents looked as though it was just waiting for Jordan to return and hoist it over his shoulder.

I cried as I was transported back to the summer before his freshman year in college. I remembered so vividly all the times he took the keyboard and drum machine to his friend Matt’s house so they could compose music and “make beats.” I could hear his voice telling me where he was going and how long he’d be gone just by looking at the backpack. I sat on the stairs wailing, wanting to have my child back. Mark held the backpack and headed toward the garbage with the swimming trunks and backpack. I cried out, “No, I want to keep it. It’s his backpack.” Mark handed me the swimming trunks so I could wash them and put the backpack on a shelf in the storage room. He kept his head down, working as I sat on the steps with my mother two steps below my sister and me two steps behind me. I cried and cried as they rubbed my knee and my shoulder.

As I sat there trying to regain my composure so I could keep working, I heard Mark let out a moan and looked up to find him crying. He’d stumbled across the Oakland Raider’s helmet which was as part of a football uniform he’d given Jordan as a Christmas gift when he was three. I knew he was thinking of all the times he and Jordan played football together and how many games they watched together.

Jordan's early version of hiking the ball

He bent over with his hands on his knees and wept, not wanting to be comforted, just to cry. I watched him as he wiped his eyes and took a deep breath calming himself. We were almost done with the room. We looked at each other knowing that our cleaning was also cleansing. That day we’d wept over the beautiful son we lost, but were comforted by the wonderful things of Jordan’s that we found.

As I headed upstairs to shower Mark told me he was going to see if the computer still worked. It didn’t get wet and he was ready to see what was on it. When he came upstairs he told me that there were lots of my files on the computer as well as Jordan’s. One file of Jordan’s that peaked his interest was entitled, “Memories.” He told me that he’d briefly looked at the first paragraph and then emailed the essay to me. I sat down with my laptop and opened up Jordan’s, “Memories.” It was an essay in four sections spanning ages 3 to 16. He began by talking about his earliest memory of staying over at his friend Travis’ house the night I went into labor with his brother. He went on to say that although the memories were fuzzy he remembered climbing up on the hospital bed where I held his brother to get a good look at as he wrote, “the newest member of my family.” His “Memories” also included being told at the age of ten that I was pregnant with twins.  He remembered that he and Merrick made a special request for sisters.

I read and reread Jordan’s essay so grateful to have a son who catalogued so exquisitely for his siblings his wonder and excitement at their addition to our family. Jordan’s 21st birthday will be here in less than two weeks. We his family are struggling to accept that August 9th will come again without Jordan here with us. On his birthday, I know I’ll read Jordan’s “Memories” essay again and be so grateful that a rainstorm and a flooded basement focused our attention on the amazing gifts he left for us.

Jordan's "declaration" on his bedroom wall of our old house

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family support, gifts, Jordan

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What Jordan Gave Us

A card my sister made in honor of Jordan's 20th birthday

Precious memories can be made in the most unexpected places. The summer of 2008 was our last summer with Jordan. It was filled with moments that are crystallized in my memory. Even at the time, they were beautiful “Jordan” moments where I held my breath not wanting them to end. Even then I knew the memories Jordan was leaving us were special. I chalked it up at the time to my sentimentality and nostalgic nature. I had no idea it would be our last summer with him. Even though I didn’t know this fact at the time, an inner voice told me, “remember these feelings, you’re in the middle of something special.”

Gift 1

Every time I pull my car into the garage I look around the walls, smile and then sigh. I’m looking at Jordan’s handiwork. To the outside world it’s a typical garage; for me it’s an improbable shrine to Jordan. The summer before his sophomore year of college, Jordan did odd jobs around the house to earn extra money to take with him to Washington, D.C. He was spending most of the summer in DC as an intern working for PIRG (Public Interest Research Group). When I offered the garage-cleaning job, Jordan leapt at the opportunity. Our garage was filled on one side with moving boxes, old toys, and gardening tools. Jordan’s task was to make our two-car garage ready to house two cars. As he worked, I would occasionally watch from the kitchen window to see him methodically emptying the garage of all of its contents so that he could sort through items and then replace only those things we really needed. I remember watching him thinking how mature and responsible he was becoming. I didn’t have to stand over him to make sure he did a good job. He asked questions of me when he needed to and took the job seriously. I saw glimpses of the man he would become and felt so blessed. Now whenever I enter our garage, I look up at the snow shovels and rakes hanging on hooks, the hula hoops leaning against the far wall and I think, Jordan’s hands touched these things and put them in order.

Gift 2

At another time during the same summer of 2008, Jordan and I went shopping to buy him shoes for his summer internship. After we were done shopping, we’d stopped for lunch when I got a return call from my doctor. I had called her earlier in the day to tell her of pain I was experiencing in my ankle. I assumed she would tell me to increase one of the medications that I took for Lupus. Instead she said that she wanted to examine me and asked how soon I could get there. After I hung up the phone I told Jordan of her comments and asked if he would mind driving me to the appointment since I hadn’t driven during our errand because of my ankle. He agreed in his nonchalant way with a, “No problem” and off we went.

I remember coming back into the waiting room after seeing my doctor to find Jordan asleep in a chair. When I went over and touched his arm, he looked up at me and as he stretched said, “Are you okay?” My reply to my son who at that instant with his sleepy look was my little boy again was, “Yes honey I’ll be okay.” Even as I allayed his fears I was so glad I hadn’t gone to the doctor alone. Now, every four weeks when I go to my doctor’s appointments I look at the seat where Jordan sat that day and think about how well he took care of me.

Gift 3

As is inevitable with twins, there are times when one is invited to an event and the other is not. In our last summer with Jordan, Kendall was invited to the beach with a friend and Lindsay was not. Lindsay was inconsolable, begging me to please call and see if she could also go to the beach as well. I told her I couldn’t do that and that there would be times where she was invited places and Kendall wouldn’t be. I reminded her that she had been invited to a friend’s house and Kendall wasn’t. Her unconvinced reply was, “but this is the beach.”

Jordan came downstairs to see a very disappointed Lindsay sitting on the couch as Kendall left with her friend. He went over to her and told her they could do something together. Trying to be helpful I suggested he take Lindsay swimming. Jordan vetoed this idea, mainly because the summer before he’d spent as a lifeguard at our community pool. Swimming, rather overseeing swimming, wasn’t one of his favorite pastimes. I decided to let he and Lindsay figure out what they would do together. Jordan thought for a moment and then asked Lindsay if she wanted to cook something. Lindsay’s face lit up and she went to the cabinet where we store our cookbooks. She pulled out the Williams Sonoma “Kid’s Cookbook” that Jordan and Merrick had received as a Christmas gift when they were younger.

Lindsay and Jordan stood side-by-side at the island in the kitchen flipping through the cookbook. They came to a recipe for “Buttery Pecan Cookies” and both decided that’s what they wanted to make. I went upstairs to give them time together. Jordan yelled to me that they were going to the store to get chopped pecans. I came downstairs to give them money for the store. I watched Lindsay excitedly put her shoes on and they were out the door. Lindsay’s regrets about going to the beach were long gone because she had one-on-one time with her big brother. I ran errands while they baked and came home to the smell of fresh baked cookies. Lindsay proudly showed me the plate of cookies she and Jordan made. I tasted one and told Lindsay and Jordan that we would definitely have to make the cookies at Christmas time and give them out as Christmas gifts. Lindsay was so excited about the cookies and wanted to make sure we saved some for her dad who was travelling on business. I told her we could freeze the cookies she wanted her dad to taste. She picked out two cookies and put them in a freezer bag. When her dad got home two days later there were still a few cookies left so he sampled from the ones left out of the freezer.

After Jordan died, I found the cookies Lindsay and Jordan baked together in the freezer. I held the bag up peering at it, trying in some way to conjure up Jordan. Just looking at the bag brought back so clearly the day they were made. The cookies remain in our freezer. Lindsay takes the bag out occasionally to look at them. Since Jordan’s death, she has started a new tradition. She decided in honor of Jordan, she would bake the “Buttery Pecan Cookies” on his birthday every year- all by herself.

Gift 4

Jordan made dinner for us one night when Mark was away on business. It was a night where I was not feeling well and he, unsolicited offered to make dinner. He made a dish he had perfected while in D.C., pasta with chicken that he sautéed with garlic and onions. While away and on a budget, Jordan quickly learned that the only way to make his money last was to eat out less, and cook more. I’d taught him the basics of cooking and sent him a care package of kitchen supplies during the first week of his internship. I sat at our kitchen table impressed as I watched Jordan prepare dinner. He talked as he cooked. I sat listening as he talked about the new friends he’d made while in D.C. and his internship duties at PIRG which were highlighted for him by frequent trips to Capitol Hill.

When we sat down to dinner that night, I was so proud of Jordan and the example he was setting for his brother and sisters. In yet another way he was displaying his ability to take care of himself and care for others. He was so proud as he served his siblings and I. We sat down to dinner that night and laughed and talked over a meal prepared by my son. That night watching Jordan, I was reassured that if anything were to happen to Mark or I, Jordan would be able to care for his siblings with love and a generous spirit.

The summer of 2008 was filled with bountiful offerings bestowed on my little family by a kind and grace-filled son. We had Jordan for nineteen years, two months and three days. During his time on this earth, Jordan didn’t amass any monetary fortunes or have time to realize all the dreams he so eloquently spoke of pursuing. His legacy however is made. Among the things he left us are improbable treasures in the form of: a garage with items neatly stored, a trip to the doctor, homemade cookies and a shared dinner. Who knew such simple things could pull at my heart with such force. I’m grateful everyday for the inner voice that so aptly told me to remember.

Category:

gifts, grief, home, legacy, loss of child

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