Super Bowls and Distractions

Ten years ago this month Cathy, Aaron, Patrick, and I went north to join my family for a retreat. We were joining relatives to watch the Packers and Broncos play in the Super Bowl. The destination was a cottage in the deep woods of Northern Wisconsin. My sister, her husband, and their daughter were in retreat from the agony of the death of son and brother Kristopher two months earlier. We were retreating to a distraction from the resounding helplessness and our own grief.

Just a year earlier we were all besides ourselves in happiness over the Packer's first Super Bowl win in nearly 30 years. Our families were intact and Packer football was more than entertainment. We sent a Christmas card of Patrick and Aaron in Lambeau Field with a heading...Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas is a Super Bowl! It was all games and fun. Cathy and I went to New Orleans for the game. I had a ticket. Cathy snuck in. That's another story for another time.

In 1998 the Super Bowl, sure to be another victory would provide a much needed distraction and something to be happy about. A momentary relief. If ever I had all my emotional eggs in one basket that was the day. The Packers didn't do their part. They lost. A painful battle finished when hope died with an incomplete pass. Grief would not be relieved. Dissapointment mixed with the grief. Ugly as slush. Bitter as January. I expected more than a game; more than entertainment. I wanted happiness, peace, relief, comfort.

Ten years later I am grieving the loss of another young son in our family. The Packers are close to another Super Bowl. Aaron is gone. Patrick is two years older than his big cousin Kristopher. This time I'm only interested, not invested, in the outcome of these games. Expecting happiness or freedom from suffering in a game is to live on the doorstep of hell.

The last Packer playoff game I attended was with Patrick, Aaron, and Cathy on a Sunday night. That cold January night was a beautiful family evening. It was our last game as a family. Four years have passed since I've been in the stadium. I can't imagine a game without Aaron. I thought I would never go back.

Patrick and I will attend the game Sunday night as the guests of Tim and Charlie Kritter. I'm wiser now. Tim has an idea what this trip might mean to me. The outcome of the game will not effect my well being. Going back to the stadium with my son and my good friends is good. And it's enough.