The true adventures in my life have involved people, not just any people, but the people that leave lasting impressions.  You may never even meet some of them a second time, but you always remember them.  Michael and I met a wonderful couple, Paul and Jan, from England when we were on vacation last fall.  They are an amazing couple and the three days that we combined our journeys were some of the most fun we’ve had.  We trust that we will see them again, but even if we didn’t we would always remember them.

A journey through grief is also a kind of adventure and the people you meet on this journey are truly the kind of people you will remember forever.  In this journey some of the human race’s most endearing, gracious, and merciful qualities become real.  We have met amazing people on the journey through the aftermath of Rhys’ death. (more…)

I did it again. I just bought something and thought to myself, “Rhys would have thought this was pretty cool.” It’s very strange how we continue to ponder what our sons (or daughters) would think about some benign action that we take as we move through our lives without them. I hear a song, or see something in a store, or make a purchase, or see something in his daughter about which I think Rhys would really have something to say. Then I pause and think to myself, “I guess I’ll never know about that.”

What’s odd is that our son is stuck at that one age. We knew what he would think about all kinds of things at that age. But our minds play tricks on us. We see Rhys’ friends making grown-up adult decisions and having adult opinions about everything. We always wonder what Rhys’ opinions would have become. And that my friends, is the saddest part. What would our son have become? What would we be talking about on a Saturday afternoon? Would we have feared multiple deployments? Would we talk about the economy? Kids? Parenting? (more…)

It’s been 2 years since my son was killed by an IED in Iraq. The overwhelming grief has been replaced by bits and pieces of sadness and loss, tucked away in private moments. The amazing thing is that after this time there are still the dreaded “places to avoid.” They are not places like the cemetery where Rhys is buried. That is a place I love to go, to quietly contemplate a short life, well-lived. They are not places like Rhys’ room, or his favorite restaurant, or any of the places he like to frequent. The dreaded places are not even in the company of his friends.

The places I avoid have to do with the notification of a sudden, unexpected death of someone most dear to your heart. (more…)

Guilt has seeped in to the deepest recesses of my person lately. Not because I’ve done something completely wrong, but because of gnawing jealousy. It is the oddest kind of jealousy; the kind that stirs when you are really trying so hard to be kind and joyful for someone else.

The jealousy comes when parents talk joyfully about their sons and daughters, whether they are very young or they are tentatively entering the world of adult responsibilities. I love to hear about the accomplishments, big and small but the jealousy begins like a sound in my ears, like the sound of trickling water. Could it be tears bubbling somewhere from within, rising to the surface and then painfully tamped down and carefully choked back? I think about my son and what he would be doing at this point in his life. I wonder about the pride and joy that I would be sharing with others, maybe oblivious to their pain at tragic circumstances in their lives. (more…)