Sitting, Waiting, Wishing in Vilas Park

Jack Johnson provided the lyrics. Compassionate Friends provided the bench.

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
I was sitting, waiting, wishing You believed in superstitions
Then maybe you would see the signs
But lord knows that this world is cruel
And I ain’t the lord no I’m just a fool
Learning loving somebody Don’t make them love you
Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?
Must I always be playing, playing your fool?
I sang your songs I danced your dance
I gave your friends all a chance
But putting up with them Wasn’t worth never having you
Maybe you’ve been through this before
But it’s my first time so please ignore
The next few lines because they’re directed at you
I can’t always be waiting, waiting on you
I can’t always be playing, playing your fool
I keep playing your part
But it’s not my scene
Want this plot to twist I’ve had enough mystery
You keep building it up But then you’re shooting me down
But I’m already down
Just wait a minute
Just sitting, waiting Just wait a minute
Just sitting, waiting
Well if I was in your position
I’d put down all my ammunition
I’d wonder why it had taken me so long
But lord knows that I’m not you
And if I was I wouldn’t be so cruel
Because waiting on love Ain’t so easy to do
Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?
Must I always be playing, playing your fool?

As a young man Aaron loved Jack Johnson. As a little boy he loved Vilas Park and the Zoo. This exact location of this Compassionate Friends Bench of names is a place where Aaron played on school trips and family outings. On Memorial Day 2006, as the bench was being dedicated to 52 sons and daughters who had their names added this year, we listened to beautiful songs, thoughtful comments, muffled crying, and children's shouts and laughter. The air was comfortable with spring aromas. A breeze drifted through the trees. An appropriate mix of sound, warmth, and emotion sort of wrapped us up.

After the service we went down to State Street. Aaron used to take Patrick down there for shopping trips to buy old school shirts and guy stuff. A shop they last visited to look at Frisbees for frisbee golf is on State Street. Patrick noticed the address is 510. Coincidently, Aaron died on 5-10.

The bench is in the shade, near the giant shoe, next to the Zoo and near Lake Wingra. A fine place to Sit, Wait and Wish.


Tom

Memorial Day 2006

An ad on the radio just played telling me how to improve my child's self esteem. I can find out how by logging on to a web site.

Well meaning suggestions for surviving grief include this idea: "Be grateful for all the memories you have." Some memories really hurt and some really make me cry. I'm grateful for those too but gosh I miss my Aaron. This picture with the puppy was taken April 23, 2004 outside of Prineville, OR. An incredible day, Aaron's self esteem was abundant. I was more than grateful.

The dog is a ranch puppy. He hiked with us all day. For a good part of the beginning, he tried to join us by holding on to Aaron's pant cuff. By the end the little guy was trotting along between us. The location is Aaron's first "Solo Site". Just as it sounds, a solo site is a place where Aaron lived on his own for a period of time. God he loved this place. Aaron went back near the end of his Mount Bachelor stay to facilitate--be a mentor, for other boys (coffee picture). He earned that invitation by doing his work. A summer in the Idaho desert (picture napping) doing more of the same gave Aaron more tools to take care of himself in any situation.

Self esteem is something we parents chip away from our children but I don't think "their self esteem" is ours to give or improve. We provide the environment of safety, contentment, anxiety, confusion, success and failure for our children to be. My memories of being Aaron's Dad are not all to be proud of. Failure, confusion, anxiety were at times my doing. Any loss of self esteem for Aaron was in a big part my doing. Those aren't good memories. A Dad should be capable of showing a range of emotion. A Dad who allows self esteem to foster should be consistent and flexible; confident and humble. That wasn't me. I'm getting better and Patrick is the benefactor. It's too late for Aaron.

Aaron would have made a wonderful Dad, although he told me he was not going to be a Dad. That may be the most telling statement about what he knew about the position.

On Memorial Day 2006 we will attend a Compassionate Friends bench ceremony at Vilas Park. Aaron's name is now inscribed on the bench first placed their 12 years ago. I sure never wanted my boy's name on that kind of a bench. Counting the one in Oregon, this is bench number two.

I'd like to see his name on an airline ticket home.

God, that hurts.

Tom

www.K-E-Y-s.com Keep Eveyone You know Safe

Patrick and I attended a "Mock Crash" this evening in DeForest. One of the sponsors was the KEYS Organization. Learn about their mission at: www.K-E-Y-s.com. The Fire Department, some talented young people, Sherrif Deputies, Coroner, Police Department, Ambulances, EMTs, local officials, volunteers, organizations, (did I miss anyone?) gave their all today.

The mock crash was the most moving performance I have experienced outside of real life. Patrick and I sat together. I was glad we were with eachother. If you've never witnessed a demonstration, maybe the DeForest Youth Council has a tape of the event. dacc1@centurytel.net.

A 911 call opens the scene with two mangled cars uncovered in front of you. A body lies on the ground covered in blood:

As the survivors come to, and the chaos unfolds with sirens, squad cars, ambulances, fire trucks, men and women doing their jobs in professional control, the stillness of the fatally injured drew my attention like a whisper. The young girl on the ground. An 18 year old boy, head turned out to the window and resting peacfully. The tragedy is just beginning for the survivors and families of everyone involved. It's over for the non-survivors. Everything is over. As loud as the noise and as constant as the commotion, it was the quiet of the dead that captured my mind. The orderly chaos played in the background. I was transfixed on the peaceful souls.

Callused is the word I have used to describe the attitude of officers, and professionals who work a crime and crash scenes. I have a new prespective tonight. They aren't thick skinned, they're attending to the situation in a controlled manner. They're all human with human powers. Assessing the situation, stepping over the carnage, and attending to the living and dieing in ways that are practical is realistic. Ripping off car doors, bringing the dead back to life is for technocolor, not living color.

Out of the background, near the end, a traumatized woman appeared. Her name is Mrs. Babler, I believe... I'm doing terrible with names when I'm emotional. She drew my attention because I've heard those screams and pleas before. A Mother hurts. Mrs. B was real.

Diane Goldensoph, Mother of Kyle, put in a long, long day today. Diane attended both presentations. She is to be admired for her honesty. Cathy and I have said from the beginning that for us to make our son to be more than he was, would be dishonorable. As we see her, Diane is honoring her son in a spectacular show of trust in God. She tells her family's story with the love of a Mother and the compassion of a trusting servant of God.

A high school student, John O'Donnel, came up to me after the event and told me about his car crash on Mothers Day. His car was used today--an amazing wreck. John has a new outlook on life. His brother was killed in Iraq in '04, and now John was given new life. I heard what John had to say, and more than hearing, I could feel how deeply he knew that he was spared. John wants to participate in sharing the message of KEYS. John's opportunity to make a difference with people his age is limitless.

Local employer, and model for what's good about business, Evco Plastics makes the sharp little KEYS and shares their money to help keep the movement going. These black and bright yellow keys are going to find their way all over the country.

The DeForest Village President and a Windsor Town Board Member talked with me. Territorial differences have a way of fading when we are able to peak into the window to our purpose in life; Compassion and mercy.

In the wake of death and heartbreak, an organization started by Bonnie Stamm of Mount Horeb, a Mother who lost her vibrant daughter Aimee because of an act of an impaired driver, has stitched up some of our wounds in DeForest-Windsor.

The DeForest v Mt Horeb competion will seem to be less of a rivalry and more for fun to me.

Living with Hope and Peace,
Tom

Noah & Alexa Sending Message Vibes to Aaron

One year earlier on May 7, 2005 Noah and Alexa talked to Aaron on the phone. They were in Antigo, Aaron was doing some landscape work in DeForest. "Hey, Alexaaa." I can still hear Aaron's voice as he talked to the kids. "OK, I gotta get back to work...".

These are great photos. I love the look on their faces as they send their happy thoughts. Alexa is clearly appealing to God's sensitivity. She's confident of her connection. Noah is using all of his energy to push his prayer through to heaven.

Aaron's friends are arriving home from college for summer break. I'm happy for them and their families. I wish God would let Aaron come home for even a minute.

Peace
Tom

Warm Sunshine on Mother's Day

This morning Cathy received a message from a classmate of Aaron's from Mount Bachelor. Meghan, who is now a graduate of MBA, keeps Aaron close in her heart. She remembers him as the closest person to a brother she's ever had.

Meghan wrote about Aaron on her blog on myspace.com and shared it with Cathy. Shares like that are so important to us because they tell us something we didn't know about our son. Memories become re-runs, but new stories give us something to contemplate, reiterate, and be emotional about. That's all good. Meghan's story was warm sunshine for Cathy this first Mother's Day without her first baby boy.

Patrick did his part to direct a little sunshine on Cathy on this cloudy day. He helps Cathy feel so special by being protective of her and comforting. With so much time and attention directed at Aaron for so many years, I would not blame PT if he was frustrated. He's not. Patrick keeps us involved in his feelings and gives us support to talk about all the Aaron related topics we need to discuss. We missed some of what he was signaling to us a little while ago, but with the help of a talented person who understood Patrick better than us, all is well. Patrick respects how well Aaron protected Cathy and he's more than up to the challenge of holding his Mom tight enough for two boys. We hold him and he holds us...family hugs.

On May 10th, the anniversary of the most sorrowful day, the magnolia tree blossomed its first flower. (It was planted last year as a gift to us in memory of Aaron.) Since May 11th, the weather has been cold and wet. Today, it warmed up a bit and we noticed, from the kitchen table window, that the flower from Wednesday's blossom had opened. I took a picture of the flower this afternoon. Maybe it could use some more sunshine and warm hugs.

Happy Mother's Day

Tom

A Son's Love From Heaven

May 10, 2006. We spent the day in the love of our son Aaron in Heaven. The love came to us in the hugs, words, cards, emails, bread, brownies, visits, laughs, tears, and well wishes of people we are grateful to call friends and family.

From 9:45 AM to 8:45 PM, (From AM to PM, every little things gonna be all right) we had guests, emails and calls. Cathy, Patrick and I felt comforted every minute. Thank you.

"Mourn with those who Mourn.", wrote St. Paul. I am impressed by the depth of understanding I witnessed today of that simple sentence. Those five words say so much. God does not say: Give advice to those who mourn. Or, cheer up those who mourn. Or, Avoid those who mourn. Or, Distract those who mourn. Just simply, Mourn with those who Mourn. Nothing is more healing than to be allowed to mourn in the presence of others and be comforted by their prayers or hugs.

I can't imagine how hard it is to be in our presence some days. Those who do it, do it with grace and compassion...it doesn't go unnoticed. That is doing God's will. I feel close to God...and Aaron, when people let me feel my emotions and give me their time. Oh, the food, brownies, bread, are great. You gotta fuel the engine to do this mourning work and there is lots of love in good food. Thanks for that too!

Today I met a young man who Aaron admired from the time they met four years ago. His last name is complex and his first name slips my mind. Aaron gave him his nickname ---Swags. This young man is living Aaron's one time dream which I thought would be his destiny. Swags is going to UW-Stevens Point (I played there) and will play football...Wide Receiver. Aaron would be proud of his pal Swags. Congratulations. I hope he lets me throw the football to him this summer.

I'm grateful for the gift to feel emotions. I'm grateful for tranquility and abundance. I'm grateful for sorrow, without it I wouldn't know love; with it I experience mercy.

Last July, when I was still in deep shock, I wrote in a book: Jesus was suffering in agony on the cross. He prayed. His friends stayed near, watched and prayed. Cathy, Patrick and I suffered in agony on our cross. We prayed. Our friends stayed near, watched and prayed. I feel close to Jesus.

Thank you for caring, for giving your love, and for delivering the love of God and our son Aaron to us.

Peace and God Bless. Turn the page.

Tom, Cathy, and Patrick

Photo is Aaron assisting Intervention, MBA, Oregon, fall-2004.

One Year Ago Right Now; Today...No Man is an Island

One year ago, right about now, I was going to bed. I had just finished writing on this blog: May 8, 2005--A Son Turns 18. My topic was Aaron at 18. He was in the family room with Cathy and Patrick watching Grey's Anatomy. I finished my post and paused as I walked to the stairs.

Absolutely, positively, I considered walking into the family room to watch the rest of the show with them. Absolutely, positively, the idea that there are more times to watch TV and too few quiet moments to read crossed my mind...I honestly assure you that thought streaked through my mind. I chose to go up to read. I never saw Aaron again. I heard his voice once more when he called me at about 4:02 pm on May 9th and when I called him back around 5:00 pm that day. But I never saw my son again. If resentment ruled my emotions, I might never have read again.

It was Mother's Day on May 8th, a year ago. We had a comfortable day at home. Aaron, Patrick, and I may have lounged a little too much for Cathy's comfort. I made smoked briskett. We ate late afternoon on the deck. The kitchen needed to cleaning up and Sunday night is trash night. Cathy let us know it was still Mother's Day and we jumped into action. "She's not my Mom" I often told the boys. But when I acted more like their brother than their father, Cathy responded to us all in the same way. We know the saying, "When Mom aint happy, aint nobody happy." Patrick, I remember continued to grumble. Aaron told him to just do his job. I carried the garbage cans out with Aaron; we each held a handle. Patrick lugged the newpapers and cans.

In the warmth of the spring morning sun, I told Aaron about the awakening I had from a story my friend Spencer Stewart pointed out to me. "I'm able to be the Father you need today. I don't have to regret the past, because the past is not today, and I don't have to worry about the future because the future is not today. You need me to be a Father to you today and I can be the Dad you need today." After that, I told Aaron all that I admired about him. I told him how I need to be more like him in some ways. All those years before I had tried to make him be more like me, and in the end I needed to be more like him. Beautiful.

Today I am reading to understand Thomas Merton, No Man is an Island. Here are a few samples of wisdom from Chapter 5:

His love is much stronger than death that the death of a Christian is a kind of triumph. Although we rightly sorrow...we rejoice in their death because it proves to us the strength of our mutual love. The conviction in our hearts, the unshakeable hope of communion with our dead in Christ, is always telling us that they live and that He lives and that we live.

It takes heroic charity and humility to let others sustain us when we are absolutely incapable of sustaining ourselves. We cannot suffer well unless we see Christ everywhere-both in suffering and in the charity of those who came to the aid of our affliction.

In the end...more than a passive acceptance of whatever comes from Him, we must desire and seek in all things the positive fullment of His will. We must suffer with gratitude, glad of a chance to do His will.

The last two sentences best state what I've learned on this year long journey. Immersed in a deep sea of sorrow for one desperate year, I can confidently say, God DOES NOT take our children. God does not punish us by killing our children. Humans die because the body is relatively fragile and not immune from disease or gravity. When a loved one's day of death comes too soon, we suffer because we love all that is human of that person. What was given to us by God is not the death, but the love we shared. What is given by God is the emotion of sorrow.

Today I accept the love we shared with Aaron--the love I shared with Aaron. I accept the sorrow we experience. This sorrow is the one that is felt in every fiber of our body. Eyes, brain, muscles, stomach, heart-if a part of the body has a nerve, it hurts. Parents sometimes say they can't imagine the pain. I understand. I'm living it and seeing it in my wife and son and I can't imagine it. But, I accept the sorrow, and have gratitude for it because it comes from God and with these gifts of love and sorrow we can do God's will.

God's will isn't to have despair. God's will is to heal despair with acts of mercy and forgiveness.

The only value of our life is that it is a gift of God. Chapter 6.

Feeling connected to the safety of God's mercy in the people who touch us,

Tom

Birthday Wishes to Heaven

Aaron's cousins in Antigo sent his presents by Air Mail on Saturday.

Alexa, Noah, Alex and some friends drew pictures, wrote messages and tied them to balloons...an idea of Grandma Lucy. They let the balloons go up into the bright blue sky and all the way to heaven.

Aaron and their other big cousin Kristopher would certainly have a great time chasing down the helium filled mail carriers. Kristopher would make it a challenge type game. Aaron would run him over to try to win. Kristopher would try to out smart Aaron. The contest would be wild with lots of laughs. Both at 6'-1" would be battling to out jump the other to catch the end of the strings as the balloons drifted into Heaven.

Aaron was a reluctant writer of "Thank you" cards. But, I suspect the kids will receive their Heaven Sent Thank-yous in the near future. To see them, all they have to do is believe and be ready. Aaron will say thank you. He loves his little cousins.

Peace and God Bless

Uncle Tom

A Birthday Greeting From Aaron

Aaron was born at 1:02 PM on 5/6/87. Today he turned 19.

This afternoon, I was working on rebuilding the pond. Cathy was sitting and visiting with Cindy and Nancy. Patrick was getting ready to have a friend over.

At 1:00 PM, my phone started vibrating and beeping. It was in my pocket, my hands were caked with mud. Getting the phone out was not going to be easy, so I considered just letting it go. When the alarm got louder I decided to wash my hands off and dig the phone out. Maybe someone was text messaging me, I thought. When I looked at the phone, the message surprised me. It read:

"Remember

AJ 5/6/06 19"

Isn't that amazing? Last year at this time, Aaron programed my cell phone to show his photograph when my phone would ring for a call from his phone. He must have also programed a reminder in my phone telling me to get him a present today for his 19th birthday... I'm going to do that. There is surely a 19 year old who could use a gift.

In addition to that gift, this has been a good day for us. Cathy had some friends over. Patrick has a friend here and we all had dinner together. Lots of good memories shared. Friends and family called. Linda Leonhart just came by with a book and flowers. My Mom had a good idea for my sister and her young children. They're going to get balloons, write messages, tie them to the balloons and send them off to Aaron. I'm grateful that people are willing to talk about Aaron. It makes it so much easier to do each day when Aaron is included in our lives.

We are blessed to have two fun and loving sons.

Happy Birthday AJ. Thank you for the fun treat. Moms making your coconut cream pies. We remember you saying "My birthday will be complete when you make my coconut cream pies." By the way, you left 1 -1/2 last year. I think Uncle Dave ate one of them.

Peace and God Bless you.

Dad

Pictures of Aaron's Friends Doing God's Work for Aaron

AJ, Your Friends Did Your Yard Work

Dear Aaron,

Nineteen years ago tonight was a quiet night for your Mom and me. We had just moved into our first house. Your room was ready for our new baby--neutral color; we didn't know who would be occupying. I had said my prayers for a boy. Your Mom made a promise to God that she'd be fine with all boys if God would give her a boy for me. She must have felt some pressure. I don't know.

We went to a restaurant and ate without saying a word. Contemplation of the end of life as we knew it and fear of the unknown left us with nothing to say to each other. The reality of what was happening scared me. Mom didn't sleep at all. We left for the hospital in the dark hours of the morning.

The delivery room started the experience looking like a fine hotel room. A little way into the delivery process, it turned into a full blown hospital emergency room. The doctors and nurses were clearly working with urgency at the last moments. Something wasn't right and the mood was serious. Nothing would go wrong. Not possible.

You were delivered. I saw your floppy ears and long, long fingers. They handed you to me and you were bawling. Not crying - that's too gentle. Not screaming- that would be shrill. You, my boy, were bawling a deep, throaty, bawl WHAAAaaa. WHAAAAaaaaa. Knowing what we learned in the next 18 years of your life, we now know you just weren't happy with being disturbed from your comfy, cozy, snuggly, warm, hibernation.

Air Bear, you were constantly being tugged, pushed, and enticed to move into life's next level. You liked be comfortable. You loved being a little boy. As a contradiction, you couldn't wait for life's next big adventure. In mornings you didn't want to go to day care. In the evenings, you were never ready to go home. Every child and adult were your friends. You loved talking to adults in their language. You said to a kindegarten tester "OK Hun. What do you want to do next?" Walking into Kindegarten with your neighborhood friends, you put your arm around your buddy Jason and let him know the day would be OK.

The Mom's of your friends were attracted to you in a way only a Mother could explain. I think it was because they found you entertaining, sincere, harmless, and polite. The Dad's enjoyed your good times attitude. We look at all of the boys and see some of ourselves in you guys. I know I saw things in you I admired. Last year, I was lucky to have had the opportunity (and took it) to tell you exactly what I admired in you.

I'll keep close that memory of our discussion of the cake Liz baked for your birthday a year ago. Me: "Is she your girl friend?" You: "Nooo". Me: "A girl bakes you a cake and she's just a friend???" You: "Yahh, so?" Me: "Seems like a really nice girl, and cute too. Why isn't she your girl friend?" You: "She's not Miss Right." Me: "And you're Mr. Right?" YOu: "YES I AM." Nothing wrong with healthy self esteem.

In the last week I received a special gift from Jeff Minnick. He told me how he drove up in front of our house at 12:08 PM on May 10th last year. His description of you walking out, off the porch and into the front yard was perfect. I could clearly see you, pausing on the steps, phone to your ear, head slightly down....smiling, laughing, walking. Jeff slowed down in hopes of catching your attention. He wanted to say Hi. He hadn't seen you in so long.

I know you would be somewhere today growing up, being a young man. Yesterday your friends came over to do the spring yard work. The yard looks fantastic. Steve grilled. Even Lyle was working hard. Everyone was here. They're doing the work for Mom, Patrick and me, but surely they are doing the work for you...and for themselves. We all need to heal still. It's a lifetime journey. Laurie made some cheesy potatoes. Remember how you would call her for a ride home from work if YOUR mom wasn't home? I know she'd pick you up today if she could. Laurie misses you; all the Moms miss you. They hurt in a way only Moms understand.

Last year for your birthday you came to my office. We went to Park Bank and I gave you money for your gift. Four days later you still had most of it.

Everyone was working, talking, and remembering you yesterday. You weren't their son or brother, but you are their boy. Happy Birthday...nineteen, goodness.

Dad