Love. Lost. Love Remains.

To be quite honest, I am still in a surreal state where reality has not yet surfaced. It was less than a week before Jett left us that I had accidentally taught him a bad word, we read Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes before bed, we beat Ryson and Aspen at tramp-basketball (he scored the last 4 points!), we played catch while swimming at Norris and I gave him my Root Beer but made him carry it cause my hands were full. I kept him up way past his bedtime playing games, we went to Ryson and Aspen’s concert, he sat on my lap and we sang ”I Want To Hold Your Hand” together, he showed me his classroom, and I played a special game of Settlers with him. On Wednesday night, I was suppose to be last minute packing and cleaning my apartment while jetting off to tropical beaches in Hawaii the following morning. Instead, my plans were altered by rushing through the night to the hospital in Montana to say my final farewell to my beloved nephew. You want to hear the absolute worst sound in the world? Listen to the moaning and sobbing of a mother and father who lost their youngest son.

I was heart broken.

He was 7. He was in the 1st grade. On my next visit, I was planning on taking him on a special date. We had a special hug that I was supposed to receive at least a million more times. During Ryson’s basketball tournaments, he would always steal Heather’s cell phone, call me, and recite to me his exact movements. For a full 15 minutes, he once told me his dilemma of having to choose between licorice or skittles at the concession stand. I would receive spontaneous text messages with quirky phrases and pictures of plates of his food. For his birthdays, I would send him a card a day, plus 1, for each year of his age. I would put a dollar or more in each card, write a little note, and add a joke or a fun fact. The thought that I will never be able to do these things again is inconceivable. It’s not real. It can’t be.

When I had my time alone with him in his hospital room, it was reality. I could not deny the lack of a presence of a soul within his lifeless body. It was then when reality smacked me right in the face. There were hints of anger but they were quickly driven away by the knowledge of where he is and who he is with. But once I walked out of that room, the reality of his absence quickly diminished. The thought that this lovely, bright eyed, young boy would no longer walk on this Earth with us was shocking. Unfathomable. I would have better luck attempting to grasp onto a cloud and hang on it than accept that.

There have been a handful of instances when this reality momentarily flashed in my mind. The morning after he passed, I took Aspen to pick out a few movies and we went to the store to get some snacks. I was walking through the aisle and asked her what she wanted. Habitually, I almost asked her what we should get for Jett. It took me a moment to realize what I was thinking and to stop that thought before it left my lips. - Later that week, I was making a sandwich and was about to make fun of Jett because he didn’t like bread. But he wasn’t there to tease. - We went to Kung Fu Panda 2 and Jett was supposed to be there cause in March, we had watched that movie together in the back of the car on the way to Missoula. We both thought that movie was “awesome” and quoted it the whole way. - Aspen, Ryson, Jared and I were playing tramp-basketball and at one point the ball flew off the trampoline. Jett was always the first one to leap like a frog off the tramp and get the ball. I just stood there waiting for Jett to fly right by me to get the ball, as did everyone else. It took us all a couple seconds to realize that he wasn’t going to be getting the ball any longer.

Fortunately, in my life, I have only had two close people die. The first was my grandmother. She was my neighbor, my best friend. For 8 straight years, I went to her house everyday. Everyday. She was the one who inspired me to become an avid reader. She loved to read Mary Higgins Clark, so I decided to read Mary Higgins Clark. I even have a list of all of her published works and have read all of them. I flawlessly remember her singing “Heart & Soul” to me and there is never a time when I eat taffy or drink cranberry juice that I do not think of her. Her home was my asylum. My refuge. Her death was devastating. I started to write her letters and leave them at her grave which helped me cope with her absence. In fact, I still do. But the moment she left, my entire life changed. It was at that point in my life when I taught myself to hold the tears. My emotion was to be locked up. Healthy or not, it was what I did. And it is what I still do. I am a closet crier.

My grandma’s death took me years to get over and at times flashbacks of the pain reappear. The consequences of her cancer were foretold. Her death was a reality. Expected. No one, other than God, could have predicted what was to come on May 25th. This was an entire new genre of pain. The moment we left the hospital, my concentration was on the funeral and my family. Worrying about my sister, brother, nephew and niece took precedent. Whatever I could do to relieve any sort of pressure or pain was my main priority. I rekindled my ability to hold the emotion and though I often silently cried in front of friends and family, I have many soars on the inside of my lip from biting it to halt the tears. If I did not, there would have been a flashflood and I would not have been able to do what I had to do. I went through thousands of pictures and videos for his slideshow where I repeatedly saw his face in the photographs which accumulated over the past seven years. Slowly, memory by memory began to surface and his face was all I could see. In the wee hours of the morning, there were a few breakdowns, which were inevitable. But at the end of the night, the notion that the next morning he would come out in his Spongebob pajamas rose above all other thoughts.

Planning, the arrival of family who I had not seen in ages, arrangements, and sleep deprivation put a spell on all of us and we were programmed on auto-drive. The service was to be a celebration of Jett’s wonderful 7 years of life. And that it was. He was a beautiful boy so it was not to extremely challenging to put together a wonderful service to remember him. It was magnificent to see how a boy could leave an impression on hundreds of people in his 7 short years. After the service, everyone else returned to their homes and resumed their lives and daily routines. Except for us. In our routines, Jett would be there. But he isn’t. But, as strange as it is, life does go on. Only it goes on with a void. A void we will all have to life with for the rest of our lives.

I never understood how much a 7 year old could teach me. Not only when he was here, but also in his absence. I have plans for my life. I am 100% nerd. I love history, philosphy, art, theology, and literature. I want to learn. I want to teach. I have a gypsy soul and have been blessed to travel to many places. I plan to see everything and meet everyone. And I am excited. The next 3 years have many more homes in distant lands in store for me. Heck. Right now I am in Montana, tomorrow I go back to Washington, and in 2 days I am moving to the Florida Keys. I am hoping to live in Russia the following summer and only God knows where I’ll be the next couple of years after that. The possibilities are endless. But with my sight locked on the future, I sometimes ignore the present. My priorities have sometimes become jaded and unbalanced. To be honest, the highlights of my future do not largely consist of my family. Keep in mind that I am extremely close to my Washington family and my sisters. I would say that on my dad’s side, my family is the closest family I have ever met. Even though I am many miles apart from my sisters and their families, that does not stop us from keeping our close relationship intact. At every break I get, I always come back to Montana to spend time with all of them. But, it is true. You never know how good you have it until it is gone. Jett taught me that. Never take anything for granted and appreciate everything you have and everyone who is in your life. Relish in every hug and do not waste a second on anything that is unimportant. Somehow, my summer goals of reading through my books of Russian literature, obtaining a great tan, eating as much exotic food as I can consume, and snorkeling in the Gulf of Mexico have been diminished to simpler activities.

Suddenly, the trip that I have been looking forward to for months is no longer as enticing as it once was. 2,828 miles will be separating me from the land where I would rather be. But when is it time to resume to our lives? When will I stop thinking of him a dozen times a day? Each day is going to be different and I expect that we will all have our good days and bad days.

It is ok to miss him and keep our wonderful jokes and memories alive. The key is to stay positive. I know that he did not suffer. I know where he is. I know what happened, happened for a reason. And I know that through all of this, we will be okay. I take comfort in those things.

Together, we will all get through this.