Mourn With Those Who Mourn

There are no words to ease the pain of another's suffering and that's the way it should be.

Cathy and I visited today with a family mourning the death of their 20 year old son, brother, nephew, grandson. Cathy noted that we can add nothing to ease their pain and because we have been where we have been, she would like to spare this family from what may be ahead. Better to say less and listen more is what Cathy knows.

If anyone could produce the words to ease the pain that person would be more than human, god-like I suppose. In mourning, I believe I grew when I let God into my life. Growth, not to be confused with "getting better" includes turning energy toward compassion instead of resentment. Growth is having room for another person's trouble rather than self centeredness. Growth is knowing to walk away from poison people and toxic situations. Growth is knowing what I have is enough and sacrficing what I have for hopes of more is to have a lack of gratitude and dangerous to my peace.

Today I know having compassion for another person does not include taking on their pain nor does it consist of giving advice or healing their sorrow. I'm grateful to be welcomed into the lives of people who mourn so we can mourn with them. I want to follow the words of God.

In the house of sorrow resides wisdom and mercy. There are no greater gifts than wisdom to know good from evil and mercy toward others. My prayers are never for less than wisdom and mercy. The prayer is always answered, I don't always accept the gift as I sometimes choose self reliance because I'm human.When I do accept the answer to my prayers, it makes all the difference. Maybe I will remember now that I have seen evil and mercy again.

The Aaron House in October

Friday night and I'm relaxing at The Aaron House. Quiet night here. One of the guys is in Spring Green working on a film crew for a movie. He spent the summer in California doing an internship and appears to be on his way with a career. Another student-resident came home all excited tonight. The young man just returned from Kentucky where he watched his younger brother graduate from basic training. The experience was clearly moving. Sounds like we will have a young man move from Aaron's House to the US Army in February.

The Aaron House experience is a pleasure. We have an opening for one person and two days ago I received a call from a young man asking if he could apply. Tonight he called back to say his application was ready and he has his first interview scheduled. I'm glad we have an opening. The hope in this person's voice is special.

The picture above is my friend Tim and his son Charlie. Charlie is my God-son and our hunting days go back many years already. Charlie and Aaron were six or seven years apart but they had a nice bond. Aaron liked Charlie. The last time they saw eachother was on a pheasant hunt, 4/2/05. "Nice mop" was the way Aaron greeted Charlie that day. The last image Aaron had of Charlie was watching Charlie on the side of a road trying to make a rooster pheasant fly. Aaron and I sat in our truck laughing at Charlie's animated antics.

Tim sent the picture above to me along with a few others from a hunt we did together a few weeks ago. The three of us and my dog Doc on a little pond a short drive from my house. I am grateful for the time with Charlie even though I feel the loss of Aaron deeply on these outings. I should have my son too. Sure, Aaron would likely be away from home, but there would be some opportunity to be complete again sharing a father-son day afield with friends. We should be able to have these days for years.

This link might take you to a slide show of Tim and his brother Dave with their sons.



The road winds without end.
Lives pause and excellerate.
Families arrive at destinations.
I left the road with Aaron.
A nod to complete families,
their moments are shared memories.

I miss the moments which should be pictures.

Boys Adrift

This blog began in 2005 as primarily a book and idea review. When my life changed so did the blog. I'm grateful that I am able to read. Had I been such a reader in college....never mind. I wasn't a reader back then. I had no attention or retention.

Boys Adrift is written by Leonard Sax, MD, Ph.D. he's the author of Why Gender Matters. These are two books any parent should read. The science of gender differences is relatively new. The findings reported by Dr. Sax tell the story of Aaron's life as I see it. Cathy doesn't agree, but she hasn't read the books.

In Boys Adrift, Dr. Sax identifies five factors driving the decline of boys:

Video Games -- Disengage boys from real world pursuits
Teaching methods-- Changes in teaching have turned boys off on education
Prescription Drugs -- Overuse of meds for ADHD may be damaging motivational centers in the brain
Endocrine Disruptors -- Environmental estrogens may be lowering boys testosterone levels
Devaluation of Masculinity -- Shifts in popular culture have transformed the role models of manhood

If you are a parent of a young boy, you may want to add to your list of favorite sites www.boysadrift.com

As the author states, this book isn't the final say, but it does provide some help for parents to be informed when talking about your child with educators and doctors. The book is $25.00 at Borders. The web site is free.

Another Pheasant Opener

I passed on the pheasant season opener this year. Years ago when Molly was young, Aaron and I began what I thought would grow into a life long father and sons tradition. October 2001 was our last traditional opener.

Today I drove past the place where I hunted the 02 opener without Aaron and the 01 with him. I have fond memories of that day he asked to go without me. Just moments before loading up to go out for the traditional hunt, Aaron took a call from his employer, Matt. Matt was inviting Aaron to join him and some guys (20 somethings) for their opening day hunt. Without reservation, I conceded to release my hold on my young son. Sure, he could go with the boys. I guess that is what a Dad prepares his son to do. I was glad Aaron was ready. Off he went, gun, ammo and gear bag.

I hunted with my friend Trey that day. We had one flush over point. The two of us got off shots and the bird flew away safely. I returned home without the pheasant dinner I had promised Cathy. Later Aaron arrived home. In his hands a goose and a wood duck. The kid out hunted the old man. A good day.

In the spring of 05, just weeks before the end, Aaron told Patrick "You're hunting with us this year." Patrick's response was phrased in the way a 14 year old tells his big brother maybe yes, maybe no.

Traditions make for hard memories. The field where Aaron and I once hunted was empty this morning. I drove by quickly. Saturday youth football was in full swing when I passed the football field at ten thirty this morning. I saw us walking all of the fields of memores, side by side today. Saturdays in the fall.

I don't feel the pain at all
Unless you count when tear drops fall.
It only hurts me when I cry.
I only cry in the sunshine and the rain.
--- Dwight Yoakum

Levaing Solo Alone

New experiences are part of grief recovery and I'm just now seeing that I am ready. New experiences are new reference points in life. To accept new references I have to be ready to let other memories fade or blur from exact to my best recall. A drawing on a blackboard rubbed out by an eraser. Some residue of chalk leaves a dusty image of what was once sharp.

For some parts of life with Aaron, I am not ready to smudge with new experiences. A few weeks ago two of the mentors at Mount Bachelor Academy called to invite me to participate in the October Intervention. They have located Aaron's solo site and now use it as a solo site for one hand picked young man to occupy at each intervention. The interventions are held 2 times a year. Intervention is a 10 day experience on a ranch in the hills outside of Prineville. The boys selected for intervention learn to be men by being men. Aaron shined in the experience. He was selected MVP of intervention in April '04 and chosen to be a student leader in Ocotober '04.

Aaron shared his intervention experience with me on April 23, '04. To walk the grounds and hear him talk was to watch my son tell a story of his life from confusion to manhood. The photos we received from his October intervention leadership week a pictures of the man. From child to man Aaron made the stride with the help of men who showed by example. Aaron did the work. He used his smarts, his wit, and his physical strength. That ranch is sacred ground. I'm a witness, not a participant.

I cried alot of tears contemplating making the trip in two weeks. Body shaking emotion overwhelmed me. Fear is certainly part of the overwhelming emotions. I fear I would lose my clear recollection of what I saw and heard from Aaron. Do I dare step foot where we once walked together? Do I look at his solo site without him and confuse today with yesterday? I'm not ready to lose Aaron the way I have him in my mind. Are the intervention grounds best left undisturbed by me and the image of Aaron not confused with my appearance? I think so. Few people, I am told, ever took on Intervention in the way Aaron challenged the week. His courage and strength are part of the legend. That's OK with me. I make it a point to do my best to tell Aaron's story in truth. Leave him be no more or less than he was in life. If the memories of others have Aaron as bigger than life in comparison to others who walked the walk, then I would like to leave that image alone.

With a twist of irony, as I was in the midst of trying to come to terms with this decision, I was offered a chance to stay at the Aaron House on the same day as the intervention in October. I know where I should be creating new memories, instead of dust.

Aaron's solo site is probably not a place for me to return to in the near future. I know his ashes need to go there. Someday I will do my work to take Aaron to his home. For today, I'm leaving the place alone.

Collage above includes pictures of Aaron's view from his site. The grinning Aaron holding the steer hide is Aaron where he slept. The hide, he had ripped off of the skull which served to guard his site. The pictures were taken a couple of weeks after his solo. I took that picture. The poem was written by Aaron on his solo. The collage was made by Jason Vincent, Aaron's friend.

It's Going to be OK

A panel of grief experts addressed a Hospice grief counseling audience today and Cathy and I were wowed by their insight. The panel of four included a 15 and 17 year old brother and sister who lost their father on April 17, 2005. The other two were Patrick and his friend Amanda. They spoke from the perspective of a sibling who lost a brother and a friend who lost a friend. I may not have asked God to prove that Patrick was going to survive, but his well being is a daily prayer. God gave us a little peek at an answer to our prayers. We didn't know the other family before today, but I'm sure their Mom has been reassured. Amanda's parents can rest well knowing their daughter is growing from her walk with us.

With a dry wit, PT presented his take on grief recovery with honesty and humor. A dark subject like the death of a brother and traumatized parents doesn't appear to have much humor but when some situations from the past two years are related by a 16 year old remembering events from the eyes of a 14 year old, the view is a little less glum. Patrick told how he started on his path to Hospice group counseling by going to see the Hospice Counselor at school "because he was in detention and it seemed to be better than sitting alone in a small room".

These are four articulate young men and women. They gave the audience exceptional value for their time because they spoke from their hearts and said what matters. We heard them say, "Don't tell us the situation is terrible, or sad, We KNOW that. We want to know it will be all right some day." Gosh, that's so simple yet I missed it two years ago. Of course, in shock, I didn't know it would be OK. I certainly didn't feel like I could assure anyone of anything.

The experts also said, "Don't ask me 'how does that make you feel?' I'm SAD! just because I'm not crying doesn't mean I don't hurt. I'm not crying because I don't want to make my parents cry. I'm not crying because I don't know how you will react." Patrick said he wants to talk about his brother and when he gets a hint of an indication that the topic is not comfortable with the other person, he backs off for fear of causing discomfort. This is a tough topic, and I see it with people too. If I get teary eyed, the other person can be assured, they didn't make me cry, it just happened. It happens alot. I'll be OK, in fact I'll be better for having felt my feelings. The tears and runny nose are part of life.

Good things don't come from bad experiences. Smart work and good people helping enable people to grow from bad experiences. Without the work and other people, more death and heartache is assured. I thanked God as I sat in the back of the room today. I said thank you for giving Patrick wisdom and grace when there was a time the future was in doubt.

Patrick is going to be OK. Thank you God.

Violent Evil and Our Part

A guy Cathy and I know from grade school and high school, Ed Smith, lost his 20 year old son Aaron last Sunday. The Smiths live in Crandon, WI. Vengence unleashed evil without mercy.

Media makes hay in the darkness by disecting the motives of violent people. "Why? What was he thinking? Who's to blame? What went wrong?" The questions presume finding the answer does not include use of a mirror. Experts have volumes of profiles compiled to classify, qualify, and quantify the mind of killers. Answers must rest in the brain matter, or maybe we look too hard at the actor to avoid looking at ourselves.

When my Aaron was at his peak frustration with me he could break my heart with, "I hate you. I never want to be like you. No one likes you." Those were arrows through my heart. Only recently have I come to understand what Aaron meant. A sixteen year old in utter confusion has few skills to express himself in a manner understandable to the average parent. Being an adult with no humility, I was even less likely to understand. What Aaron meant was, "You have me so confused. You say one thing and do another. You expect me to live to standards you set and you can't attain. You have double standards. You stand for nothing that I value." The hate was with the confusion. Because he was a good young man, Aaron did not want to be like me and that was exactly what I would have wanted had I been able to look at myself at the time. His choices to differntiate himself from my world were wrong, but his reasons were sound. I wonder how much of the violent evil we see in youth has its roots in frustration with conflicting messages we older generations project.

I started to look at myself just in time to make a difference in Aaorn's life and well in time for Patrick. In my little part of the world, I learned that I may not be to blame for everything that goes wrong, but I can be part of the solution by changing myself. In Crandon and in the US, the questions of the day pertain to getting on with some "normalcy". What's normal is what has to be analyzed. When violence rules the day, blame is not the answer. Self assessment may be the better exercise.

What is my part in the problem? I like this question best: Now that this has happened, what am I going to do about me?

Images of Brothers

Video cameras were big and a bid deal when Aaron was born in '87. Cathy and I had one. It was about the size used by the news crews. The control was on the side with a hand grip and the butt end rested on your shoulder. We have VHS of boys when they were young. There is one of Aaron running away with a suitcase which carried the words "Going to Grandmas" on the side. There's Aaron walking away from the house, looking back and shouting, "And turn that camera off!!"

As the boys grew up the cameras grew smaller. We have a box full of video we expected to watch for years with the boys and their girl friends and future families. Two and a half years now and I can not bring myself to see anything with Aaron walking and talking. The first time I saw a deceased relative on tape the experience was odd. The person was a grandparent. Hearing the voice was a good feeling. A grandparent passing is understandable and in the right order. Having their image and voice with us to relive memories was OK. That was just the way it was supposed to be.

The desire to see and hear Aaron does not include seeing and hearing him on a recording. I fear that image will confuse my memory. I already am off balance with recalling the last days of Aaron because the images of those days are few. Most images are from months, nearly a year, before he died. I also fear the moving pictures and sound will put me down and back. Missing a person does not seem to get easier as time goes on. I can function in the day but I miss my son more. There is much for me to share with him and much I want to hear him tell.

Patrick's friend Amanda sent this picture to me today. Aaron is playing a guitar and superimposed over Aaron is Patrick playing Aaron's guitar. Patrick was the best little brother Aaron could have. In spite of enormous reasons to turn his back, Patrick never quit pulling for Aaron.

It's ironic that the morning after Patrick was born, a four year old Aaron was up early expecting to find his new brother in his crib. I heard Aaron bopping into the baby room and then come busting into the bedroom shouting to me, "Where is my brother?!? I want my brother!!" Aaron didn't understand that Patrick wasn't going to be born one day and be playing Superman and Dark Wing Duck the next day. His patience with Patrick wore thin when little PT had to spend an extra week in an incubator to grow a lung. Good lord Aaron was not impressed with this brother.

Aaron had little use for a baby who couldn't be a sidekick. As he gained self mobility, Patrick earned some parts in Aaron's imaginary life. Patrick's turn to wish for the brother he always wanted came when Aaron started to grow away from his family. No matter how much Aaron struggled, Patrick loved him. Oh, Patrick's patience was tested. Often Patrick would get his hopes up and have them dashed by Aaron's stumbles. I don't believe PT gave up on Aaron at any time, but he did protect himself from dissapointment as best he could at 11 and 12. A kid can gain wisdom and compassion by being tested in the fires of chaos if he doesn't give in to the temptation of fighting dissapointment with resentment.

We too had big visions for Aaron and Patrick. Like a little boy, I had expectations that didn't include the reality of life's possible detours. Things can go wrong but the real disasters happen to other people.

Every day I feel that shocking sensation in my heart and head telling me Aaron is gone. I grit my teeth and groan. I suppose everyday Patrick would like to shout the words little Aaron said in January 1991, "Where's my brother?!?! I want my brother!"

Aaron is proud of Patrick. Patrick carries what he knows was best about Aaron as a light in his soul. He shares that spark with the world in the way he lives his life. Patrick was Aaron's teacher and Aaron was and still is Patrick's mentor.

What To Do About Me?

Four years ago this month when the bottom was falling out with Aaron I had no clue of what right actions to take. Over the course of the preceding eight weeks I tried many actions and committed to none. The chaos grew and I waged a battle against the invisible evil. Aaron took the brunt of my frustration. He and I were pitted against eachother. Aaron was consumed by the cunning, baffling, and powerful drug and I was consumed with anger. Anger at Aaron, his collection of users and pushers who slinked in and out under the cover of darkness or hidden by two-faced masks. And anger at powerlessness.

Dads fix things. Bikes, balls, toys. Sometimes Dads can fix broken hearts. But Dads can't fix their children. They can fix themselves. That, I found, is enough.

Parents sometimes look to me for advice with their children in trouble with addiction or consumption. My advice is always the same: (1) Call a professional to counsel with you and your child. (2) Get yourself into support counseling such as Al-Anon. (3) Encourage other family members to do the same and the best encouragement is getting yourself there (4) If you use alcohol or other drugs, quit. I self medicated and tried to tell my son he was wrong and my actions were right--wrong!(5) Love your child, hate the desease and never confuse the two.

I asked myself and others "What am I going to do about Aaron?" The question I should have asked is "What can I do about me?" When I finally found my way into answering that question it made all of the difference. I was late but not too late. For that I am grateful.