Photo Courtesy of Scott Kirk Photography

Saturday, August 14, 2010


          Part of the purpose of my writing is to help me remember and sort through the events of the past few months.  Wednesday, June 9, 2010 is pretty much a blur.  I do remember this is the day of my first meltdown.  I was home alone--first time I had been alone since Andrew's death.  I decided a shower would make me feel better.  As the water from the shower erupted from the shower head, a shower of tears erupted from my soul.  I just couldn't stop crying.  As I got out of the shower I heard wailing and realized it was me.  For what seemed like an eternity, I cried to God.  "I'm sorry!  I'm so sorry!"  It was like those were the only words I could speak.  I think those two phrases had been building in me since I learned of Andrew's choice.  I remembered that the Jews would tear their clothing and wail in sorrow.  That is exactly what I wanted to do.  Bill arrived back home and took me in his arms.  What else would be able to comfort me?  He reassured me, yet again, this was not my fault.  I didn't believe that.  Friends tell me I am forgiven of all.  It's hard to remember that as you plan for your son's funeral.  I wanted to create a personal program for Andrew's service, so Bill and I went to school so I could get this done.  It was the first time I had been back in the building since I had run out Monday afternoon.  My friends had cleared my tables and put the remnants of graduation away.  It was comforting being there.  After I put everything onto a CD, off to our local Staples we went.  I never thought I would be able to create something so quickly.  Again God helped me in a task that was so important to me.  As we did mundane errands, I almost felt normal.  However, the lack of our backseat passenger reminded me that my life would never again be normal.  The older children--Andrew's brothers, sisters-in-law and sister--would be at the house by 3 p.m.  We needed to return home.  When they arrived, the sadness in their faces was more than I could take.  Andrew forgot how much those kids loved him.  They were as broken as we were.  How would our family survive?  Bill and the boys went somewhere to do something.  I don't remember now, but Bill did share with me later that he took them to the cemetary to show them where Andrew's remains would be placed.  He felt it was important for them to have this time--at that spot--together.  Meanwhile, I gave the three girls the job of putting pictures onto presentation boards.  This was their gift to us.  It had been hard enough going through all the pictures, selecting ones to share.  They created precious displays of our beloved Andrew for us to share with others. We all went out to Bill's parents for dinner.  It was a pretty quiet meal.  Bill's niece and nephew were helping in the kitchen--they will never know how much this helped everyone.  After dinner, Bill and I, along with his youngest sister, went to Walla Walla to pick up the service programs.  We had a great talk on the way to town. but it was so surreal.  Once we returned. everyone helped to fold the programs. Again--so surreal.  Why in the world were we doing this for one of the youngest of our family? When this task was finished, it was time to go home.  The kids would stay with others, so Bill and I returned to our home, alone.  It was time to prepare to say good-bye to Andrew.  I didn't want Thursday to come.

~Andrew's Mom

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