Having Fun Yet?

Looking back but not staring January 23, 2005

Aaron flew into Madison in the evening of January 22nd. The next morning, while Patrick
slept-in, content knowing his big brother was home, Cathy, Aaron and I were off to Fitchburg for an AA and Al-Anon meeting; the family that recovers together...

AA or NA, the steps are the same. Aaron was in recovery from an addiction to marijuana. Me, alcohol. Cathy was in the room next door learning to cope with us. One of Aaron's stipulations for coming home to stay was that he attend NA meetings and get a sponsor. It's suggested that you look for a sponsor who demonstrates qualities you can relate to.

There were 30 or more people in the room that day. Aaron was the youngest. Everyone was white...except a man everyone called "Spence". He made the observation to the group that this alcoholism was obviously a white-person's illness. Spence was obviously a well loved man in that club-house.

To start the meeting, Spence read from a book titled Daily Reflections. The reading began "Having fun yet?" and continued with "...We absolutely insist on enjoying life. We try not to indulge in cynicism over the state of the nations, nor do we carry the world's troubles on our shoulders." Spence spoke from his heart on what those words meant to him. In his best preacher tone, Spence told of the choices he had today through the grace of God and the fellowship of AA. He talked about where he had been, how he got to AA, and where he was that day some 20 + years removed from a dead existence. Spence loves sobriety and life.

After the meeting Aaron said to me "In all my years in church, I've never felt anything like that! I want that guy to be my sponsor!" I should note that Spence was 59 years old--Aaron 17. The 59 year old preacher-esque, man was the person Aaron felt had the qualities he could best relate to. I felt the same way.

Three months and a few weeks later Spence stood at the podium of the church filled with friends and family who gathered to pay respects to Aaron. Spence told Aaron's friends and family about the message Aaron heard from him on January 23rd..."Are we having fun yet?" When we are free from guilt, sorrow, addiction, and ready to assume our proper role in the universe, we should stop and ask ourselves, Am I having fun yet? Aaron's answer to that question was, YES I am! Of all the things I know about Aaron today and didn't comprehend until the last days of his life, what defined him was his willingness to NOT carry the world's troubles on his shoulders. He insisted on enjoying life and being free.

Aaron loved music. Classic rock with a bluesy story was his favorite. Spence is a blues-man with a preaching talent. The preacher's tone is a special gift.

Today I visited Spence. He has cancer. I read the Daily Reflection for March 25th-- A Full and Thankful Heart: I try hard to hold fast to the truth that a full and thankful heart cannot entertain great conceits. When brimming with gratitude, one's heartbeat must surely result in outgoing love, the finest emotion that we can ever know.

Spence gave me everything I needed to be able to say to Aaron everything I needed to say before May 10, 2005. Because of that, nothing important was left unsaid and Aaron was killed knowing how much I loved and respected him and what he stood for. How grateful I am for that gift. After May 10th, Spence gave me everything he could to get me through one day at a time to get to this day. I've known Spence 688 days.


Today Spence told me: "I don't know what God has planned for me, but I'm sure it won't be to be an angel, 'cause in all the books and all the cards, I never seen a black angel."

With a full and thankful heart, I am living life with gratitude...

Tom

Moving Pictures

A DVD is being created to be used presenting the Aaron's House project. The production requires some video footage of Aaron. I gladly talk about Aaron and want to maybe more than people care to hear. Looking at pictures is not impossible but I still have to look away sooner or later. Video is unexplored territory; it's the highest dive.

Cathy and I have talked about going through the video and picking out some family fun scenes. They are all most likely pre-summer of '03. We've talked about it but neither of us have taken a single step toward the closet where the video is kept.

The video of "little Aaron" will break our hearts but all kids grow up. I think we long ago came to terms with the boys not being little anymore. Those little boy antics are the scenes we would have laughed over with the boys and their future wives and children. We'll do that with Patrick.

There is some short video from April '04 when I spent a few days alone with Aaron. This is a photo Aaron took with my camera--he eventually came home and left the camera behind. (He "didn't have room" to pack the camera. Jeeeeezzee.) Those days in April in Bend, was our first time alone. We worked on re-building our father-son relationship. The time we had together was important to us. Lots of mending went on in those few days. We made progress. What was torn apart was carefully being rebuilt. We hiked, played frisbee, talked, read books, took pictures, watched a dad and his son paddle a kayak. Talked. Goodtimes.

As the picture shows, Aaron is the "bigger Aaron", not as big as he grew, but bigger, on that video and I don't know what will happen if I watch it. I'm fearing that video like I fear a call from the coroner's office.

Seeing a movie where Aaron is walking and talking might strike one as something good. Memories, pictures, moving video AND sound---gee it's almost like real. Maybe, but I doubt it. I'll save the moving pictures for a rainier day. This for sure, I don't want my son to be just an image on a screen. I need him home. Almost two years now and I want him home with us. Sure he'd be almost 20 and off doing his thing, but I want Aaron to check in at least. If I see Aaron laughing and walking I might break.

The DVD will have to go with stills because I'm not looking.

Tom

My Favorite Banker

Up until today, my favorite banker of all time was Milburn Drysdale. From 1962-1971, Milburn was the scrooge of the banking world at the Commerce Bank of Beverly Hills. Here's a classic exchange between Mr. Drysdale and his secretary (back in the day when there were stewardeses and secretaries):

[dictating a letter to Miss Jane] Milburn Drysdale: ... and furthermore, if you are late on your mortgage payment one more time you will be thrown out into the street...

Jane Hathaway: Chief, she's eighty-five years old and in a wheelchair!

Milburn Drysdale: Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know... change that to read, you will be wheeled out into the street

Sorry Milbourn, you've been unseated. Today Patrick landed a job as a teller at Park Bank. Little PT is a banker. That does not surprise me because since first grade, Patrick handled the monetary transactions for Aaron and himself. Whether going to a movie, paying for delivered pizza, or turning in lunch money, Patrick was the man.

A week ago Patrick and I were discussing this upcoming second interview. I told PT that two years ago I suggested to Aaron that he include Park Bank on his job search. Aaron's response was a polite grin and "Thank, but I don't think so...". As Patrick said with a good chuckle, "Aaron wouldn't have a job where an ironed shirt is required. He would need something where you can get up, put on a t-shirt and go to work." That's accurate.

Patrick's journey without his brother is a challenge I don't relate to, as I've never lost a brother. Lots of people have played a part in helping Patrick. It has been said that for everyone, the length of our road varies, but we are all the same distance from the ditch. Losing anyone is not an excuse for compounding disaster but the statistics are what they are.

Like me, Patrick has had his days and we will have more of "those days". I'm grateful that PT's work on this road and his acceptance of compassion and mercy from others is an honest tribute to God's mercy.

Thank you to everyone who listened to him, put up with him, accepted him, or supported him in any way these past 22 months. You matter and you made a difference.

I know Patrick will share some of what he gained from you and share that compassion in his life. Should you need a check deposited, I know where you can find a good banker.

Tom

Aaron, Aaron, Aaron...Feels Good to Say

Aaron Monroe, of Architectural Building Arts, gives a "thumbs up" to the renovations at 850 E. Gorham Street---Aaron's House.

Sometimes I say the name to hear and feel it...Air-Ren. Air-Bear. Air-Foil. A-Ron. AJ. A-Em. Air. I miss saying Aaron and hearing the proverbial "Wut?" or "Waauutttt!?!?"

For the last week, I've had the pleasure of saying Aaron to my heart's content because Melinda Monroe assigned her son Aaron to lead the first phase of renovations at "Aaron's House". Aaron Monroe took apart, tore down, sledge hammered, and dumped tons of debris, in the last week. I stopped by a few times to lend a hand and just be around this pleasant young man. The extra bonus was the opportunity to say "Hey, Aaron. or Aaron, what do you want me to do? or Aaron, look at this. Aaron, what are you going to do?"... etc..

Aaron has his initials on all of his tools. While the middle initial is not "J" the last initial is "M" so everywhere I looked I saw A-M. Even seeing AM means something to me.

The last week was fun. It was all things Aaron.

Grateful for the chance to say Aaron.

Tom

Quiet Noise

A friend of Aaron's, Chris O., has a special greeting on his cell phone curtesy of Aaron. The voice a caller hears if Chris doesn't answer is Aaron. Speaking in his own voice Aaron greets the caller "Hey, this is Chris..." and then goes on to let the caller know that they can leave a message but "I" probably won't call you back because "I don't check my messages...etc".

I've called that number a few times to hear Aaron's voice and sense of humor. Today I called Chris to see if I could get him and a few friends to lend a hand at the demolition project at Aaron's House (www.AaronsHouseMadison.org) Chris didn't answer so I got the greeting. At first I thought the voice was Chris'. Then the tone seemed more familiar and sure enough it was still the Aaron message. Aaron's voice was clearly less familiar to me.

May will be two years. The pictures are too few but recordings of his voice don't exist. At least not his voice of the last months. I have something on video from April '04 (can't watch it though--not ready to see him walking and talking) and a few words from January '05.

Cathy and I talked about this today. Hearing Patrick (they sound similar but not the same) my ear is tuned to his voice; not quite as deep as Aaron's. Cathy said the sounds of Aaron, which were so loud and urgent, are much quieter to her. Aaron rarely entered a room without his sounds preceding him--footsteps, knocking things around or over, music in his truck, talking to somebody..., announcing his appearance. I know what she means. Aaron came into this world with a deep, husky cry. He kept it up for most of 18 years letting the world know that he had something to say or do. The Aaron-noise is vanishing. The Aaron-noise that should be, won't.

It must seem way to quiet for Patrick; they spent so much time together being LOUD. I remember thinking how I would miss the noise from their basement rec room when they grew up.

The world is a quiter place around our house. Not because the boys grew up, but because they didn't.

Tom

Dads

Ambush at the River of Secrets--a CNN special report on four Marines killed in January, 2005 aired tonight. It's hard to watch reports concerning the war. To me the war is parents losing sons and daughters, siblings losing heros, men and women losing loves. After detailing the events of the battle the story switched to the families back home. Two of the Dads spoke words I understand well. The circumstances are different. Reality is the same.

Driving to work a soldiers Dad takes a call on his cell phone from the Marines. He's told his son is dead. Within minutes of hearing the horrific news, he has to tell his son's Mother that her boy is gone. This man spoke his trauma as, "I don't know which was worse, hearing my son was dead or telling his Mother." Yes, I don't know either.

A career State Patrol Officer, who has seen more than his share of death and destruction, lost his son in the ambush. When interviewed for the story he said something like, "Its the first thing I think of when I wake up every morning, it's with me all day long, and it's the last thought when I go to sleep. Nearly two years later, and people say 'time will make it better' but I haven't seen that." I'm with you morning, noon, and night. I concur, time is not making it better.

I cried hearing the Dads tell their pain. I cry most everyday for my son. Tonight my tears are for Dads of these soldiers. The young men are soldiers once, sons first, and Dad's boys forever.

Dads love their sons and want them home.
I know.

Aaron's Dad.