Perspectives

Family member’s perspectives written in first person following recorded oral interviews and transcriptions. by H.L. Paulec

Grandpa Ken… He Reached Out to Me (part 4)

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Grandpa Ken

On January 16, 1992, our youngest daughter Kathy (Jamie’s Mom) along with her younger two children (Michael and Holly) came to visit us for the long weekend.  Jamie opted to attend a winter retreat with his church youth group.

Although we were a bit disappointed, we certainly understood.  And, I think, a little hopeful he was making some good friends after the difficult couple years.  Also, some suspected his interest in spiritual matters had dwindled in recent months.   So, his initiative to go an such a retreat was a welcome option.

The evening of January 18, 1992 – the phone rang.  I answered it.  The voice on the other end?  Our son-in-law (and Kathy’s husband), Carlton.  He spoke directly.

Matter of fact:  “Jamie killed himself.”  Initially, I could not believe he would joke about something like that.  But within moments, I knew this wasn’t a joke.

Jamie’s gone.  Shock set in immediately.

I numbly told Phyllis and Kathy.  Their tears… The screams… shook the street, I think.

Then, hearing the commotion, Michael and Holly rushed in…  “What’s wrong?”  I think they asked… By now, I’m not even sure what explanation they received.  A total blur in my memory.

I remember Phyllis flew with Kathy and the kids while I drove from Kansas City to Denver the next day.  The blur continued.  I do not remember any part of that drive.  Numb, I suppose.

As the family gathered for the funeral, we shared sorrow and loss.  Jamie’s gone.  We proceeded through the customary funeral preparations.  Trips to the funeral home and cemetery.  No dress rehearsal.  Nothing prepares you for all the formal finalities.

One thing I really regret now is that I viewed the body.  While I’d been to several funerals in my life, seen the bodies and it didn’t trouble me.  However, Jamie’s body… in a coffin … That’s different for me.  Very hard to see.  I wish I’d never seen it.  And I can’t seem to forget it either.

I want to remember the young gentleman from Thanksgiving instead.  Sure, he had concerns.  But, he also seemed to be handling them with grace and peace… maturity beyond his years.

Remembering Jamie… some memories- I just want to be fresh again.  Others … just sad.  What could I have done differently that may have impacted his decision?  Or, if in fact, did I do anything that contributed to his decision? … That troubles me some still.

I hurt for Kathy and Carlton and the family.  If it were possible, I would have done just about anything to take that pain away.  We cannot walk in another man’s shoes- even though we sure would like to sometimes.

Recalling memories of his childhood with Phyllis and Kathy eases grief’s sting, I think.  I remember the time he placed his foot in a tub of hot water on the back porch – he was just a toddler.  He pulled his foot out fast and said, “Dumb Kid!”  When he got excited as a toddler, he bent his elbows, clenched his fists, and then swing his arms back and forth.

The countless rides on the tractor or combine.  His laugh…  and Heidi’s, too… laughs that I hushed.  And what a proud big brother.  A good brother, too.

Photographs around the house remind us of Jamie’s life.  His death is hard, but the manner of death is the hardest part.  I think general knowledge of Scripture and trusting that God’s children cannot be lost… That brings  a great deal of comfort… despite what Jamie did.

Prior to Jamie’s death, I remember a childhood friend losing his life to his own hand.  We never knew if it was an accident or on purpose.  But, you think about these things even if no one talks about them.  Back when we were younger, you just didn’t speak of such things.

Although I’ve not spoken about all Jamie’s death that much, I’d be open to sharing with another going through a similar situation.  We deal with any death.  It takes time.  But, this kind of death has its own sharp, deep pain, too.

I think it is important to know that time does take the edge off.  Accepting the absence of a grandson, first-born grandson, is not easy.  But, I am thankful God gives us memories.  We’ve got some real good ones with Jamie and the rest of the family, too.

God also gives us Hope.  Hope in Jesus. “…When darkness seems to hide His face,
 I rest on His unchanging grace...”   Hope that leads us to Heaven one day… And I look forward to seeing Jamie there one day.

He reached out to me… and I remember.

 

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

Refrain:  On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

Refrain

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

Refrain

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Refrain

-Edward Mote

written by Heidi L. Paulec

____________________________________________________

Follow the family…Grandpa Ken married Grandma Phyllis… patios & picnics (part 1).

 

Grandpa Ken … He Reached Out to Me (part 3)

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Grandpa Ken

…. Jamie explained, when he attempted to seek explanation, he said he was silenced without reason.

In such a situation, I see how a young man’s self-respect could easily erode.

Yet, I certainly never imagined Jamie was in the process of giving up on living… He spoke so clearly.  Calmly… Compassionately, he really didn’t want to burden others with the conflict.

I think he hoped we’d help.

“Ask the former generations and find out what their fathers learned, for we were born only yesterday and know nothing, and our days on earth are but a shadow.”

Job 8:8-9

In addition to this conflict, Jamie’s dream of playing football deflated as he did not get to play in any games in yet another season.  In his big city high school, his slighter build in a sea of larger athletes hid his ability to strategize the game better than many men I know.  Yet, he’d hoped the smaller school, smaller team would offer a different outcome.

I’m told he practiced with drive and determination.  Eagerness… and asthma.  He even practiced through asthma attacks pleading to be deemed worthy in the coaches’ eyes.  The harsh words, and probably that physical, health weakness, nearly ripped away his love for the sport.

Instead of gaining physical strength during the season, Jamie’s health actually depleted.  He lost weight.  His asthma did not allow him to persevere and progress as hard as his will pushed.  He was hospitalized at least once for his health directly related to these practices.  I suppose altitude may have been a factor, too.

The coaches didn’t play him.  But, I don’t blame the coaches.  He really hadn’t been there long enough for them to know how serious or not-so-serious his asthma may have been.  But, I certainly do feel for him.  He loved football.  He could throw the ball.  And his thinking game…Bright.  In the end… just so sad, really.

“Because he talked so little, his words had a peculiar force, they were not worn dull from constant use.”

Willa Cather  My Antonia pg.55

Our talk, that day, didn’t last all that long.  Jamie didn’t belabor his points.  He just wanted us to know what he thought.  I am still not sure why he chose to share.  Maybe seeking our help… not sure we managed to do that… but, I am thankful for that talk that day… that memory.

Our little Jamie… a young gentleman, indeed.

continued… Grandpa Ken… He Reached Out to Me (part 4)

Remembering – a reading

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Remembering Jamie on his birthday (the fb Live)

Candles, Cakes, & Crossed Arms (writing by Heidi with photo, too)

THANK YOU, your response to our first fbLive
delights & a-mazes us.
You showed up, submitted excellent feedback as well as truly encouraged us…

YOU are exactly why we’re meticulously & vulnerably sharing.
THANK YOU to all …
who joined us Live (or watched later) as my family remembered Jamie’s life…
The one whose silence
Unleashed Grief
like we’d never known.
Yet, his death also lifted a veil to the
Daring & Daunting
Community,
Eternal Joy, &
Living Hope.

He’s why started this journey,
but YOU are the reason we write on…
Yes, we share some sad places;
Yet, we also hear Hope’s whisper &
feel His embrace. And we’re learning how to extend compassion as well.

Now, we’d like to honor you by remembering your loved ones by name as well.
🔹We invite you to submit a handwritten note with your loved one’s name & dates & anything else you’d like to share. Snap a photo & add in comments. We welcome a photo of your loved one as well.

Here… We remember to remember.
We pause & process.
We pray & persevere.
Shadows of death are real;
yet, comfort & rest
grow courage & compassion in the
Shadow of the Almighty.

Living Hope.
Again, Thank YOU for being among us.
Alex & Heidi Paulec

https://shadowspresence.com/about/

Perspectives | Shadows Presence
https://shadowspresence.com/perspectives/

Grandpa Ken… He Reached Out to Me (part 2)

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Grandpa Ken

Teenagers don’t often seek out time with their ol’ grandpa.  Jamie did that day.  The night before he left our home for the last time.

Heidi asked me to describe my relationship with Jamie.  My response, “Oh, I suppose we had an average grandfather-grandson relationship.”  He did live on our homeplace the first five years of his life.  As a farmer, I worked the land from dawn to dusk six days a week.  Whether in my workshop, chicken house, Quonset, barn or coming in from the fields… Hearing & seeing Jamie and Heidi, too… just part of it.  Those two… couldn’t have been any closer, I don’t suppose.

After Carlton and Kathy moved off the farm, I remember Jamie (Michael and little Holly, too) growing up so fast between our visits.  From what I heard, he was quite a good student.  Active little guy.  I remember him wresting for the school.  He read a lot.  He sure seemed to enjoy learning… came easy to him, I think.

As he aged into a teenager, I remember noting I never saw him upset or agitated.  His ability to articulate- clear.  His ability to pass a football – exceptional.  And his self-control was admirable beyond his age.    Always in control of himself.  Mature.  And well-spoken.  Bright.  Very bright.

Struggles for Jamie surfaced during his freshman year.  First, I remember he had to get glasses.  He had dreams of being a military pilot.  Like his Dad, he loved planes.  And the corrective lenses meant he was physically disqualified already.  I flew planes during the war (WWII), so I understood the draw to fly… And the turbulence that sticks with you years after war’s end.

Additional external struggles picked at him, too at a large public school near Denver, Colorado where he lived with his parents by that time. He endured difficulties during football season.  (Later we learned coaches and students were directly part of this.)  Evidently, the struggles worsened over the school year.  According to his mom (my daughter) his anxiety grew.   By spring and summer, his grades began to slip, and he begged to not go back to that school.  For a kid, who rarely complained, this surprised me.  But, I figured he and his folks would figure it out.

Honoring authority can be a curious thing to navigate particularly in cases when authority is misused.

From my understanding, the family thought Jamie’s social needs outweighed his living with immediate family.  The decision:  he’d live with his uncle (our eldest son) deep in the mountains. This way Jamie could have a fresh start and attend a smaller school.

My son’s own daughters lived with their mother in the city.  However, his house in the mountains was already home to several young people.  Those residing in the home at the time consisted of he and his wife, a step-daughter, a girl friend of hers as well as a boy friend of hers.  This is what Jamie joined.  Some thought this would serve as an ideal answer to the social friction of the big city school.  Instant social circle right there in the home.  They all went to the same high school where Jamie again joined the football team.  This move offered hope of a new beginning.  Evidently, it played out with far less optimism than Jamie had banked on.

The eventual inconsistencies of this family structure is exactly what he wanted to talk to us about that Thanksgiving weekend.

We made our way down the stairs and sat down together.  Jamie spoke calmly.  He outlined unfair treatment he though he received while living there that fall.  (He’d return to his parents’ home to live before Christmas.)    Characteristically Jamie, he spoke clearly.  I didn’t sense bitterness.  In fact, I sensed his desire… peaceful resolution.  But, again, he felt that was unfairly beyond reach.  He did not lambaste anyone…he simply shared.

“The thorough integration of strength and sensitivity, of firmness and feeling, is rare.”

Eugene Peterson Run with the Horses pg. 56

From the details (which aren’t necessary to share here), he shared I certainly understood his concern.  In general, Jamie said he carried the heaviest weight of chore responsibility within the home while the other teens either didn’t have chores or got away easily without doing them.  Also, Jamie explained that all the teens in the home were at least 16 years old, licensed drivers; however, Jamie was the only one not allowed to drive.  When he attempted to seek explanation, he said he was silenced without reason.

In such a situation, I see how a young man’s self-respect could easily erode.  Yet, I certainly never imagined Jamie was in the process of giving up on living… He spoke clearly.  Calmly… Compassionately, he really didn’t want to burden others with the conflict.  I think he hoped we’d help.

continued… Grandpa Ken … He Reached Out to Me (part 3)

Grandpa Ken… He Reached Out to Me (part 1)

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Grandpa Ken

Reconciling Memories of a Child Turned Young Man… Pride, Pain, Regret & Rest … Grandpa Ken

PERSPECTIVES:  We can learn so much from one another as we sojourn horizons that both beckon and daunt us.  While our general experiences may have general connections, the specificity of our experiences depends on our position, our perception, and how we filter it all.  What is this all About?

This grief journey led me back to our family.  How do you navigate such a loss?  When I nervously asked if they were willing, several vulnerably shared distinctly personal elements of grief, sadness, struggle through this heavy darkness.  Each generation recognizing the varying social stigmas of suicide as well as the responses of their closest friends.  I am supremely grateful for their honesty.  While we share common relationships, every memory is profoundly unique to those who cycle through them; yet, our family’s openness to sharing weaved threads of bravery within me.

“While they spoke, I penned their words…and processed my own.”

– Heidi L. Paulec

When invited to participate in this perspective endeavor reflecting on Jamie’s life and subsequent suicide, most family members offered openness to share their story.   However, most did not feel either capable or comfortable to write their own perspectives.  Therefore, I sent surveys and conducted subsequent oral interviews from their responses.  These were used to establish primary source material from which to write on their behalf in the first person.  In each perspective, you can expect “Reflections on the Interview” and “Brief History.”  Both sections are written in the third person.  Then, the voice will shift to first person for their Perspective.

We welcome you here.  This remains tender space for us.  So join us accordingly.  Know you’re also welcome.  We invite you  to subscribe to receive emails as we publish pieces here.

Reflections on the Interview:

This original interview was one of my early interviews  conducted on  July 4, 1997.  Grandpa Ken welcomed me (Heidi) , thoughtfully participated, answered my questions, and commended me for taking on this project to honor Jamie’s memory, help others facing similar loss, and ultimately share hope.  He sat quietly at times throughout the interview.  And while he had already come to grips with Jamie’s absence and reassured by enduring faith, Grandpa Ken acknowledged sadness remains.

Brief History:

Grandpa Ken grew up  farming on his family homestead on the plains of southeast Wyoming. This small community was settled by our ancestors who were Swedish immigrants.  Third born (second son) to Harry and Carrie Lundberg. Grandpa Ken, a content, hard-working, ever-studying man.

Farming the Great Plains …  hardy endeavor for any soul.  Short summers.  Long winters.  Rooting faith seemed the only required element for endurance.  As a young man, our Grandpa Ken learned how to work diligently, grow things, sing harmony, write poetry… and he loved basketball.

Somewhere in his junior high years, his Dad needed extra help and hands on the farm, so Grandpa Ken had to work instead of go to school for an entire school year.  When he went back to school, the public district acknowledged his maturity and capability, so he skipped the grade he missed and moved up with his original class.  (Side note from Heidi … His hand-writing, grammar, and logic… exceptional to read as I prepared for all this.)

As a member of The Greatest Generation, he served in the Army Air Corps- specifically he served primarily as a cargo pilot over “The Hump.”  For more details, please read Grandpa Ken’s World War II bio.  Upon his return from service, he met and married our Grandma Phyllis… patios & picnics (part 1).  They had four children.  First, a son.  Next, Karen (Heidi’s Mom).  Then, Kathy (Jamie, Michael, and Holly’s Mom).  Finally, another son.  Grandpa Ken and Grandma Phyllis raised their family on the farm where Ken grew up.  He took over the farming operation from his Dad.

Ken excelled in carpentry as well.  He constructed photo frames, quilt racks, tables, etc.  He tackled larger projects as well.  As the family grew with grandchildren, he added onto their farmhouse several times.  Large windows framed exquisite views summer sunrises and sunsets as well as whistling blizzard in the winter.

On an autumn day in 1982, their home of 40 years burnt to the ground.  A couple years of crops freezing in the ground along with this loss opened our grandparents to move east for a season.  They moved to Leavenworth, Kansas where Grandpa learned and worked in the oil business.  During their time there, Grandpa Ken especially delighted to serve military families in church  and in the community.

Eventually, Grandpa Ken and Grandma Phyllis moved back to the Wyoming homestead community and  lived out their final nine years on the family farm homesteaded by Grandpa Ken’s grandparents Peter and Sophie Lundberg.

written, researched & edited by Heidi L. Paulec

Perspective:

“Grandpa, can I talk with you and Grandma a bit in the basement?”

I remember Jamie asking of me and his Grandma Phyllis, my bride, on his last visit to our home.  It was Thanksgiving 1991.  He had traveled with Tim, Karen, and Heidi to our home- joining our youngest son and his family who arrived earlier.

During the days prior to his conversation request, we enjoyed the preparations, the celebration of Thanksgiving, and the hours of college football that followed.  The house brims and brews when the kids and grandkids gather.  The table expands, so we can all circle around it together for three square meals.  At breakfast – just after eating, while still sipping on coffee- we’d read the Bible, Our Daily Bread, and pray together.

Then, we’d all find something do.  A project here.  An errand there.  Working together where we can and around each other otherwise.

As much as the hem and hum of activity warms our home, a few extra quieter moments are always welcome to me.  But, this invitation from our eldest grandson serves as a special memory to me.  Teenagers don’t often seek out time with their ol’ grandpa.  But, Jamie did that day.  The night before he left our home for the last time.

continued… Grandpa Ken… He Reached Out to Me (part 2)

 

 

Grandma Phyllis… patios & picnics (part 4)

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Grandma Phyllis

I think, Jamie, with his heart of excellence and service, knew how to give to others; however, he had a real hard time receiving.  Maybe he thought he was taking something, and he just could not do it.  I don’t know, but my heart still breaks thinking of this.

As I am of Italian ancestry (my grandparents emigrated from Sicily just before my Dad was born), I am emotional.  I cried so often in the months following, but I felt deep concern for Carlton and Kathy, Michael and Holly.  Somehow their little home would feel so empty, and I ached for them.  Also, my folks, Grandpa Philip & Grandma Ruth, were older, physically weaker.  And emotionally they seemed quite unsettled for a long time.  (Great-Grandparents Grieve (part 1))   My Dad was an extremely sensitive man.  I saw grand displays of his every emotion.  Even when he knew one of his family was sick with a cold or the flu, he would get upset to the point of tears at times, so I knew this would be nearly unbearable for him and my Mom.  Finally, I felt so concerned about Heidi.  She and Jamie were like our twins.    They had been so close.  What is she going to do?  How is she going to handle this?

While my own pain was deep and real, I felt a great deal of comfort just gathering with family those initial weeks and with church friends when we returned home.  Our church friends comforted us with listening ears, wonderful meals, encouraging prayers, cards and plants.

For me, crying myself and comfort from others drained much of the heaviness of the pain, but the deep confusion that followed still haunts me.  I still can’t believe he is gone.  At times, I have felt so angry he hurt so much— from his mouth sores to the lack of sleep to the rejection of his freshman year.  Why did this loving boy who was becoming such a wonderful young man have to endure so much pain so early in this life?

The Scripture from Ecclesiastes (Chapter 3) shared at the funeral, “A Time for Everything,” has been an encouragement to me.  In a fallen world, we do have a time for birth & death, planting & harvesting, war & peace, laughter & tears, silence & speech.  I still cannot claim to understand all this.  But I trust the Lord will one day restore our fallen world.  Jamie’s personal profession of faith in Jesus and baptism at age 13 along with the Scripture where Jesus said, “Let the little ones come unto me,” comfort me.  Despite Jamie’s earthly suffering, he knew Jesus.  Trusting in this truth, I have confidence Jamie is at eternal peace.

Our home continues to be filled with family photos including Jamie.  Often, I will pass of one of his photos and think, “Where would you be now, Jamie?  Would you be married like Heidi?  Would you be an airline pilot?  Would you be a Dad?”  The questions don’t go away completely, but I am not overwhelmed by them.

Jamie sent a card to Ken, his Grandpa, I treasure.  In his handwriting, he signed it, “I love you, Jamie.”  What a gift for us to pick up every now and then!  We loved him; he loved us.  Oh, how I wish that could have been enough to keep him alive.

Even now, I cannot believe he is no longer with us.  I can still see him on Grandma Ruth’s patio on a mid-day picnics with Heidi —both her arms around his neck, Jamie smiling and pulling away.

Grandma Phyllis… patios & picnics (part 3)

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…From that time on, Jamie seemed to carry a sadness with him.
Our loving and happy little boy slid into a state of discouragement. Some young people do not have specific dreams or goals, but Jamie did. Yet, they all seemed to unravel one after the other when he entered high school.

He did not lose his sense of humor entirely, but he was much more serious more of the time. I remember the last time he visited our home, Thanksgiving 1991. I had some photos for Kathy, so I took them to Jamie. When I asked him to slide them into his suitcase, he looked at me with his half-smile and said, “I don’t have room, Grandma!” We giggled, and he packed the photos neatly into his duffel bag.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

Psalm 23:6 KJV

On that same visit, we noticed Jamie’s maturity. As he wanted to talk with Grandpa and me about his troubles living with an elder family member living in the mountains. We went downstairs, and he calmly shared his concerns. Basically, three teenagers living together under one roof with different rules seemed unfair to him. If I would have been in the place he described, I would have been unhappy, too. One example, he had to make his bed daily; the others did not. The others had permission to drive while Jamie did not. If there had been a reason maybe he could have understood, but no reason had been given. Inconsistency is tough for anyone to swallow, but I think this is especially tough on teenagers.
Jamie had gone to live up there because of an unsettling situation at his local public high school. Going to a smaller community might help. He originally looked forward to the change. However, I do remember him saying something about the one year old little girl Kathy babysat at the time he moved out, “Rachel isn’t going to remember me.” He loved children, and he had often helped in the church nursery. We knew he was going to make a great Daddy someday.
On the evening of January 18, 1992, I was playing a game of Aggravation with Michael and Holly. When the phone rang, I answered. The party on the line said, “Is Ken there? I answered, “Yes, one minute.” As I walked back to the bedroom to hand him the phone, as I am a curious person, I wondered who was calling. I didn’t even recognized the voice of my own son-in-law, Carlton.
When Ken hung up the phone, I went back to see who had called. He said simply, “Its Jamie. He’s gone!” Instantly, I collapsed on the bed and started screaming. Kathy responded in turn, and Michael and Holly, too. My emotions controlled my body; however, I do remember seeing Kathy sitting on the edge of the bed shaking terribly.
In the days and weeks ahead, we hurt some for ourselves, but more so for Kathy and Carlton. This kind of loss is so devastating! I felt plagued by the unanswered question, “When someone close to you passes away, regardless of how, it hurts, but then especially in this way— what could have been so bad for him? Something horrible must have happened!?! Why couldn’t Jamie have told someone? What couldn’t we have had the chance to help?”
As I flew with Kathy and the children to Colorado, I felt we must hurry because Carlton was still alone. No family was present with him. I remember feeling so concerned about Carlton being alone. I remember seeing him so drained as he tried to explain what he knew and field our many questions.
We spent the week preparing for the funeral with many people coming and going with meals, snacks, and supplies as well as plants, flowers, and cards. Young people from the church Jamie and Michael’s age lingered in the home for many hours. As I cried through much of this, I kept thinking, “Look at this…look at this …look at this…how could Jamie not have known how much he was loved?”

… always holding somebody up … (part 3)

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Jamie and Heidi Lake 1985

“Lifeboat 12 was lowered to the sea.

It was one of the last boats to go, and it dropped fast, the boys hanging on.  Like monkeys, Ken Sparks thought.  For a terrible moment the stern fell, dropping awkwardly, the bow left, the top end of a dangerously steep angle.  The roar of the sea lifted, close now.  To O’Sullivan it seemed they were riding ‘a badly adjusted elevator.’  But then Cooper had the falls back in alignment and the lifeboat leveled.  Not one of his charges was thrown to the water.

What mattered most was how the boat would land, and this Cooper managed adroitly, letting out rope in slow and steady increments, adjusting the boat’s angle several times as it neared the water.  The trick was to come down level, though the Benares [the British liner sailing the North Atlantic in September 1940 when it was torpedoed by German U-Boat] herself was leaning profoundly to the stern.  Cooper succeeded where most others had not, and his passengers held on.  Lifeboat 12 touched the water relatively gently and evenly.”

Tom Nagorski

Miracles on the Water: The Heroic Survivors of World War II U-Boat Attack pp.182

Over the 20 years I wrote, researched, and revived this “Shadow Project,” as I called it (now known as Shadows Presence)… I found kindred souls surviving terrifying, horrific, and lonely losses throughout history. Their ingenuity, humility, courage, and driving love continue to speak of the mysterious rest & wrestle of vulnerably sharing hope in troubled times.

In … always holding somebody up … (part 1), I shared my Dad’s words at Jamie’s funeral that included the story of Dawson Trotman. In … always holding somebody up … (part 2), I shared a compelling story of a Hero of Hope of mine from World War II, Friedl Dicker- Brandeis.  Each inspiring story strikes hope and courage despite death’s dark and dank pursuit.

Who doesn’t love a good epic hero story?  Isn’t it gripping to consider all the obstacles overcome?  I get all Olympic-Glory energized, and I want to tackle the world to feel the weight of a medal and to sing the National Anthem … but, then real loss creeps close enough I nearly lose my own ability to move, to think, to fight … or even breathe.

Since I was one of the closest people to Jamie… suddenly, I needed people … to hold me up…  like never before in my life.  And I’m not the greatest at being needy and horrible at expressing anything when I feel utterly weak, abandoned, alone.

Yet, so many people acted in beautifully simple ways to comfort us along the way. I am deeply grateful for every little thing everyone did to lighten our days.  Because of you,  we learned grace… to grieve and live again.  Whether we remember every detail or not, I’m fully aware your efforts- especially prayers held us up for a very long, long time.

Similar to steadying Lifeboat 12 on the sinking Benares, sincere souls grabbed and grappled details around us.  We’ll may never know how all the prayers, sacrificial acts of kindness, and words of encouragement buoyed and steady us still.

As I think back, I don’t remember who sent the biggest flower arrangement to Jamie’s funeral.  I don’t remember my first days back to school.  But I remember how songs people wrote -sometimes decades before- became my anthem and heartbeat.  I remember going out to the garage at Jamie’s family’s home to see mounds of soda and stacks of tissue and feeling the pause… a weightlessness -not of wanting, but of not needing… I remember vividly fearing falling asleep the night of his death… somehow I just knew he’d invade my dreams, but a dear friend sat silently on the other end of the phone line… just so I’d know I wasn’t alone.

“Who know what ‘the communion of saints’ means, but surely it means more than just that we are all of us haunted by ghosts because they are not ghosts, these people we once knew, not just echoes of voices that have years ceased to speak, but saints in the sense that through them something of the power and richness of life itself not only touched us once long ago, but continues to touch us.”

Frederick Buechner  The Sacred Journey pp. 23

After the shock dissolved and the new day-to-days began, Jamie’s absence and the prevailing silence of so many who don’t know how to mourn formally or how long real grief lasts… I remember the few souls who spoke his name, dared to ask how I was doing, and share songs, quotes, questions, etc.

An honest take-away for me has been a bit of a wrestling among the waves … a gripping plea of my heart to forbid anyone from committing suicide ever again and a warrior stance to prohibit anyone else to have to face such a loss, pain, and epic journey back to life.

… someone is always holding us up …

You have no idea how -even to this day- how much it means, how much we feel upheld, to know people remember Jamie, our loss, our pain, and speak life into healing spaces of our hearts… yes, scars remain.  However…

Similar to steadying Lifeboat 12 on the sinking Benares, sincere souls grabbed and grappled details around us.  We’ll may never know how all the prayers, sacrificial acts of kindness, and words of encouragement buoyed and steady us still.

More to Come… Living Hope.

written by Heidi L. Paulec

 

… always holding somebody up … (part 2)

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Jamie and Heidi Lake 1985

“She helped restore a balance to the trembling consciousness of terrified children.”  Chaim Potok wrote of Friedl Dicker-Brandeis, a Vienna-born, Baushaus-trained, German-speaking artist who turned down a personal visa to enter Palestine during World War II.  Rather, she remained in a ghetto to teach children as the official art teacher of the camp.  To the Nazi’s, the camp was known as Theresienstadt.  And the Czechs and the rest of the world, the camp became known as Terezin.   From 1942-44, Friedl Dicker-Brandeis helped children create and express through nearly 5,000 pieces of art.  (1)

“Auschwitz was the Kingdom of Death.  Theresteinstadt was the Kingdom of Deceit.”  (2)Terezin posed first as a relocation station then as a preparation stop for Jews heading to Palestine; however, the humanitarian smoke screen both dangled and diluted hope day by day.

Yet, truth and beauty found its way out of that mire, in part, because of Friedl Dicker-Brandeis, who held no pedagogical credentials,  faithfully and sacrificially taught art and expression to non-German-speaking children in this Nazi-run camp situated just outside Prague.

‘… always holding somebody up …’  Although Terezin maintained a posh façade as a countryside resort (a featured location for Nazi propaganda films), the inhabitants knew this ghetto offered any real rest…  Perhaps, all but the children fortunate enough to find themselves under the tutelage of Friedl Dicker-Brandeis.

Despite language barrier, she animated techniques.  They listened… and learned.  Time. Observe. Think. Texture.  Time. Observe. Think. Texture.  Repeat.  Mrs. Brandeis -the artist turned teacher who refused payment of any kind- ceased her own work to conserve and to share the meager art supplies with her pupils.

“She taught in the way she herself had been taught by her art teachers in Vienna and the Bauhaus:  exercises in breathing and rhythm; the study of reproductions, texture, color values; the importance of observation, patience, freeing oneself from the outer world of numbing routine and inner world of dread. 

She would tell stories, and the children would be required to draw objects she mentioned twice.  They drew flowers, butterflies, animals, cities, storms, rainbows, streets, railway stations, family portraits, holidays, merry-go-rounds.  They drew their concealed inner worlds, their tortured emotions, which Friedl Dicker-Brandeis was then able to enter and try to heal… A member of those classes who survived said of her:

‘I remember Mrs. Brandeis as a tender, highly intelligent woman, who managed- for some hours a week- to create a fairy world for us in Terezin… a world that made us for get all the surrounding hardships, which we were not spared despite our early age.'” (3)

This fairy world doesn’t seem to have been an escape, but a means to express, understand, and overcome present horrors with vivid remembrances… all while stirring future hopes.  Brilliant.  Beautiful.

Mrs.  Brandeis took great care to hide the children’s art before she was deported to Auschwitz on October 6, 1944.  She later died in Birkenau.

Some may think  her artistic endeavors were wasted.  Some may view the children’s work and wonder if any of it really matters in the scope of ‘real’ art.  But in the scope of humanity, Mrs. Brandeis’ instruction encouraged the children to keep remembering, living, hoping, even if only for a few hours a week as their minds spilled a fraction of that life onto paper.

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit,

but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” 

Philippians 2:3 ESV

She upheld their dignity in those days they were imprisoned.  And she preserved their dignity as she packed away each piece for had in turn churned life and hope in her.  The world needed these to remember, and she knew it.

So it is with us- as we journey the epic endeavors of life… including the pangs of grief.  We know souls who so seamlessly call out hope and happiness in the bleakest moments.  When they rally, people around them rise above disheartening circumstances and join a contagion -if only by a breath- of inspiration and ride on.  We know people who journey alongside us when we are fun… and when we are frozen… with fears… in grief.    They’re patient and tender.  And they risk upsetting us by calling us back to life again.  Sometimes, it takes some remembering, some savoring, some hoping… ‘holding somebody up.’

Who rallied around you in your darkest night,  deepest loss?

Because I was one of the closest people to Jamie, I felt the honor and obligation to “hold somebody up.”  I took over as a big sister to Michael and Holly.  Jamie loved them both, so I’d try to love them and look out for them more.  (being an only child, myself, I now know I had no idea what it means to be a sibling, but I gave it the ol’ heave-hoe.)   Sending Mother’s Day & Father’s Day greetings to Jamie’s parents as well as my own.  Even his best friend and I became fairly close through periodic letters and phone calls.  But, mainly, I thought “I need to be strong enough (or at least ok) for them.”  Overall, I think these were genuine and proper responses for a time…

However, because I was one of the closest people to Jamie… suddenly, I needed people … to hold me up…  like never before in my life.  And I’m not the greatest at being needy and horrible at expressing anything when I feel utterly weak, abandoned, alone.

Yet, so many people acted in beautifully simple ways to comfort us along the way.   I am deeply grateful for every little thing everyone did to lighten our load as we learned to grieve and live again.  Whether we remember every detail or not, I’m fully aware that your efforts and especially prayers held us up for a very long, long time.

More to come… Living Hope.

Heidi L. Paulec

 

(1) Volavkova, Hana. ed.  Potok, Chaim.  …I never saw another butterfly…: Children’s Drawings and Poems from Terezin Concentration Camp, 1942-1944.  Expanded Second Ed. Schocken Books. New York. 1993. pp.xix

(2) Ibid. pp.xvii

(3) Ibid pp.xx

 

 

 

Grandma Wanda… Beyond Brilliance (part 4)

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Grandma Plinsky

As months passed (Defining Time) after everything changed, our house needed some remodeling, so our mental and physical focus preoccupied us and lightened the press of heartache.  We still miss Jamie, and we always will.  And our concern for the our whole family’s response to his death remains.

A pastor at a funeral of a Godly man who committed suicide once said, “God didn’t call him home, but He welcomed him.”  Some days we may feel sadder than others.

Questions still arise.  Does the hurt ever really go away?  No, we do adjust to it.  We wish Jamie would have had a longer, fuller life.  Yet, we must remember we still have a life to live.  Hopeful living is a gift and a choice.

At every family occasion, we always feel the missing.  But I’ve felt we ought not overly focus on Jamie’s absence at the holidays or at our other grandchildren’s special events; otherwise, we let death overshadow the living.  Whether we say anything or not, Jamie is always missed.  Yet, we must also be careful to go on enjoying life without restraining one another with added guilt and unearthing grief.

We want to be there to “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn.”  Not with divided hearts.  Rather, we choose how we adjust, remember the dead, and encourage real living.

Has God used all this for good?  I’m sure He has in countless ways we cannot see.  I am grateful for the ways He’s allowed us to see good.  For example, one of our daughters, Gretchen worked at a bookstore.  When customers inquired after books on suicide, her colleagues referred to her.  Her assistance helped them find what they were looking for, but more than that her compassion encouraged them as well.

Our other daughter, Lori,  and I had the opportunity to share our experience losing Jamie at Wichita State several years ago.  After we shared our story, several young people approached us with tears.  They thanked us for being willing to talk on the subject.  Several were grieving losses, including some whose families decided to pretend the suicide away.  Acknowledging death is one thing, but accepting it was a suicide is another.  This denial was much more common in the past; however, this class helped me realize it is still a common method of hiding from the truth.  We must be able to talk about it.

I remember one telephone call we received from a man who didn’t believe in God and  whose son committed suicide.  This man, clearly tormented, found no comfort any where.  Up to that point, he chose to close himself off from God.  I pray for him and others like him to be softened toward God through these times, not hardened all the more.

For me, searching the Scriptures brought great strength and perspective.  At first, I thought only of Judas Iscariot as being the primary suicide of the Bible.  However, as I studied more, I realized how many there were and how profoundly God used them in life and in death.

So, how does all this help us today?  The choice is ours.  Death cannot be undone.  We can choose to be defeated daily because of how our lives have changed, or we can watch God use it for good.  We can draw others to the Lord Jesus Christ by following Him and thanking Him without restraint.  Or we can become sullen, bitter and envious of others we think are experiencing good fortune.

“Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do His will, working in us that is pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.”

Hebrews 13:20-21

Join my prayer~  Lord, please use Jamie’s life and death to bring honor to Your Name by displaying Your Comfort and Goodness in personal ways that draws souls to You and restore them with Your Joy and Strength.