Closing Doors

I closed a door on a chapter of life today. Bad Times. Sad Times.

Home To Stay

Not forever. Aaron came home to stay seven years ago tonight. To stay was supposed to mean he wasn't going back to MBA as a student. Freely one day, sure. Aaron would likely go many places. But he came home to stay and he stays  forever.

I woke with trepidation that morning. Same today. I wanted my expectations met then. Same today. I deeply wanted to believe my son in everything he would say or do. I wanted his intentions to be pure. I didn't want to be fooled. His sincerity, I probably thought I needed it to be significant. Aaron lived the remainder of his life accountable with integrity.

I thought he had forever ahead.

Things He Carried

A half full plastic bottle of Gatorade. His high school football jersey, number 15, in LSU style and purple, gold colors. A Beetle CD belonging to his brother. An assortment of Camel cigs, some broken, some smooshed.

The flip cell phone with a phone number of a convicted dealer survived the crash. The police saw the digits and rushed to judgement. They carried guns, bullets, weapons of all sorts. None were needed that Tuesday. Patience was in short supply. Same with common sense, compassion, and science. No one carried facts. Rumors were carried by radio waves to cell to phone to brains.

He carried smart ideas in his open mind; peace in his heart. It was his heart that broke in the wreck.

A Living Memory

I wanted a living memory not the image of my son in a casket. Almost seven years later I have no recall of how he looked in our last face to face conversation. Just that image I never wanted but can't forget.

Drifting With Grieving Dads

In the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,  the father who lost his son rows out into Lake Pontchartrain in the fog of the night. There is nothing said about where he is rowing to or what becomes of him. The man is grieving his son and he's drifting. I assume he has placed his life in the hands of nature. I rowed. I drifted. Peace and grief ebbs and flows.

I heard the news that a son of an NFL coach in Green Bay died in the Fox River yesterday. My heart aches for the family. I have tears in my eyes and feel pain for the boy's Dad. Such agony.

I've met old timers who have lost sons in their younger days, and old timers who have lost sons in their later days. They all shed tears when they recall their boys. Sadness doesn't end.  Prayers for this dad and his family.