Memorial Day Weekend – Summer’s Signal to some, and moments to mourn for others… How do we navigate these seemingly colliding times?

As a young girl, my Mom made sure I understood Memorial Day offered a point of pause to remember those who had passed on  before us.  We’d rise early to take flowers Mom tenderly arranged to her Grandpa’s grave at our little rural cemetery on the edge of our little homestead-hometown in southeastern Wyoming.

A grandpa I’d never met because he died when my Mom was in the seventh grade.  She’d tell me stories of how this Grandpa Harry snuck cookies to my Mom and her siblings behind Grandma Carrie’s back.  “He sure got a kick out doing that.”  She remembered.

I pictured him in overalls and glasses from a fading photo I remember seeing.  Mostly, I remember his smile.   Since we grew up among Swedish immigrants, I may have been more accustom to stoic grins than unbridled smiles.  But I remember his glasses and his smile.

Every Memorial Day I lived in Wyoming, we paused.   To remember.  As we made our way through the cemetery with utmost  respect, reverence, and quiet, my parents pointed out a few other family members and friends.  Many, already grew grass despite the arid climate.  And from time to time, an oblong dirt mound reminded us  … loss, still fresh, lingered here.

Let me be clear- our faith believes our loved ones weren’t pandering somewhere in a holding dimension; rather, their souls released from earthly bindings had already gone on to their eternal resting place.  The cemetery visit wasn’t to see them or hope they saw us, but more of an action to remember, to remind ourselves of our own mortality, to acknowledge those who’ve gone before us, and a substantial sober action to soak in the reality we’re just a part of a legacy… we’re the living … we’re responsible to live…

… maybe even pondering of what future generations might remember should they ever stand alongside our well-manicured grassy tomb…

This Grandpa Harry, though foreign to me, seemed so familiar.  He was a pioneer, a farmer, and a hero.  He was my Grandpa’s Dad.  Did my wise Grandpa ever really need a Dad?

While this foreign and fun Grandpa Harry died in his sleep as he’d always prayed he would, we remembered his life, faith, humility, and wonder.  He’d even prayed the right prayers leading to his preference of death.  And we remembered him as our family hero who endured difficulty cultivating a farm, yet lived well.  A long enough life. And a peaceful end.

“From Aristotle I learned that a story must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.”

-Madeleine L’Engle  Walking on Water:  Reflections of Faith and Art

When Jamie, my cousin, died at 17 years old… by his own hand.  I didn’t know where to put that, especially on Memorial Day and any other holiday.

Most citizens of the USA, if they even celebrate the “memorial” aspect of the day, acknowledge the valiant military losses and move on to celebrating the gateway weekend to summer with picnics, boating, water-skiing, maybe camping, if they live far enough north.

The pause seemed it ought be a necessity, but who has room for such a pause when cynicism and silly seem to have edged out any really capacity to remember a complex life and a complex death?

Yes, picnics saddle up the summer season, and we ought to freely celebrate.

But how do we really navigate season’s signal that represent such seemingly carefree celebrating when our own hearts beat heavy… if they beat at all…???  We recognize our need to pause.

Oh, Lord, how do we soberly remember and simultaneously celebrate with the living?

“I will walk with the Lord in the land of the living.”

-Psalm 116:8-

Heidi L. Paulec

… I knew leaving the family and going home would not be easy.  Immediately, I was back caring for my sister who was still slowly recovering from a heart transplant.  What will this new normal really look like?

How grateful we were to our family and friends for their outpouring of support through cards, flowers, and phone calls.  The first Sunday back we arrived intentionally late that morning, and we left as the last song was song.  I wasn’t sure I could handle talking with people just yet.  We did go back to church that Sunday evening, and I was able to stay clear through.  Peace, in bits, comes.

One outstanding feeling I could not shake?  The constant concern for Carlton, Kathy, and the kids did not wane.  I woke up thinking of them, went to bed thinking of them, and countless moments throughout the days wondering how they were adjusting.

Would the pain and ache ever quiet?

We already had a trip scheduled to Denver for a college class reunion in February 1992.  So we flew back out, and we stayed for week again.  While we were there, we joined a group therapy session for suicide survivors.  We took the opportunity to express what was going on in our own processing.  But, we also came to realize how important it was to know we are not alone.  Truly, most helpful.

One thing I want to share is that I have never been ashamed of Jamie or his final act.  I know this use to be a very common response to suicide- family shame, but not for me.  Rather, I’ve been open with other people partly because you want others to know they are not alone either.  Also, I will always be proud of him.

Jamie was sick.  He saw no relief in sight.  His dreams of playing ball and becoming a pilot at the Air Force Academy were shattered.  I’m sure this added to his unnerving.  While I know I don’t understand it all, I’m still so very proud of Jamie.

He loved planes and cooking like his Dad.  He loved Legos.  He could win at games without even trying.  Truly, a brilliant young mind.

Often, for those early months, songs or down days could trigger tears for me which was quite abnormal for my temperament.  But, I should not have been surprised.  He’s gone.  Our family has forever changed.

We don’t forget.  In fact, we found the first year he was gone that we needed to do something in memory of him.  I know some choose to keep fresh flowers on the gravestone, but we chose to do something different.

We chose to share what brought us the most comfort and strength through our grief.  We bought Gideon Bibles in Jamie’s memory every month.  You know the Bibles place in hotel and motel rooms?   Knowing troubled souls might need some guidance and comfort, we prayed these Scriptures would speak life into minds battling depression and hearts in need of salvation.

The Scriptures and prayer for our family had been deeply important to us before Jamie’s death; however, they became even more vital to us after.  Drawing strength from the Lord gave us opportunity to love and to live beyond our capacity.

The resounding ache does quiet down some.  We carry on with a deeper compassion for those around us.  But, normal never really feels normal again.

When we boarded the plane, I burst into tears.  With my sister’s tender physical state, I had not yet found a place quiet and alone enough.  Whether I was ready or not, the tears spilled out right there.

The thought the Lord impressed upon me:

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

Genesis 50:20 NIV

When we landed in Denver, Carlton met us at the airport.  He grabbed me, and he held.  Silently.  We stood there for a time.  Suddenly, I began to realize more than the pain we all shared.  I remember greeting Kathy (Jamie’s mom) and her mother when we arrived at the house.  He was really gone.

Where do you begin to comfort a fractured family?

I remember we all got ready to go to church where they had a Christian Counselor for all the church, the many youth who knew Jamie including some who had been at the camp when he hung himself.  Although still in shock, I remember thinking the time spent together like that was profitable.  That was on Sunday.  Jamie died the day before early evening.

The following day, Monday, many more people came.  Work needed to be done to accommodate visitors, so I just tried to keep busy which gives the mind a bit of a rest.

On Tuesday, Darrell and I went with Carlton and Kathy to the funeral home to help with those details. Carlton and Kathy also had to go pick out a plot at the cemetery.   I remember picking out his casket.  Who would have ever thought I’d pick out a casket for one of our grandchildren?

The body arrived on Wednesday.  They (the funeral home) prepared the body for family viewing.  We spent all afternoon at the mortuary.

The funeral was on Thursday, January 23, 1992.  I cried.  And I cried like I had never cried before.  What a time- I felt sorry that I couldn’t be more of a help to my kids.  I had never known grief to this extent before.  By this time, I had already buried both my parents.  But this was very different.

Why?  Almost harder than losing Jamie has been watching Carlton and Kathy go thru all this grief, and knowing we can’t do anything to make it better.  Standing by … helpless.

But, in the midst of it all… we got glimpses of The Good.

The initial response from Carlton and Kathy’s church, coworkers, and friends was outstanding.  They brought in meals to serve 20 people everyday leading up to the funeral.  I’ve never seen such a creative outpouring of love and ministry.  They brought in paper goods like Kleenex, toilet tissue, paper plates, napkins.  And because so many young people were coming and going, people generously shared pop by the cases.  They really understood that no one feels like shopping, and they thought of everything we might need.  From this church, I learned to take these kinds of things to other families when they grieve.  There is a time of such shock that these thoughtful, generous gestures really do help so much.

Darrell and I stayed another week after the funeral to help.  We helped write thank you notes.  Taking the time to say thank you reminded us how many people did so many things to help lighten this heavy burden.   We cleaned as we could and did the laundry and just about anything we could think to do to help the family get back to “normal”…  which we already knew would never be completely the same with the obvious one forever missing.

Throughout it all, there was much searching for clues.  Jamie wrote a lot of his thoughts down, so there were clues in notebooks, in letters, and his choice of music pointing to his struggle with depression.  So many unanswered questions remain.  A couple specific ones for me:

1.) But was it really more than most teens go through trying to finding their nitch?

2.)  What happened to him at the local public high school that caused him to cry and plead not to have to go back there?

One thing that really helped is nothing was held back.  The family shared everything that was found.  Someone even made copies of all his notes and letters, so we could have copies to read through when we were ready.  This helped us sort through our questions as well as sort through his belongings.  I am grateful for that.

Although we only saw him about once a year, he was our first grandchild and we enjoyed him.  We’re thankful he was part of our lives for 17 1/2 years.  And we hurt.  But Carlton and Kathy, he was their firstborn and their home felt so different without him.  I ached for them and the kids, Michael and Holly.  Oh how we prayed they’d each know The Good out of this awful situation.

They went through the motions of living.  Michael had his sports and so many friends who kept him occupied.  Holly was younger and at home more.  I was more worried about her as she seemed to not realize he really wasn’t coming home.  Initially, she seemed to have fun claiming the things of Jamie’s she wanted- I am not criticizing her. Maybe the items helped her feel he wasn’t so far away.  I’m sharing to remind us that we do not all grieve the same or at the same time.  I just think it took her a long time to reach the real acceptance of his absence and the real grieving process.

No two people sort through our grief alike.  We draw our strength from the Lord.  And He comforts and guides us so personally.  He brings The Good out of everything.  What do people ever do without Him?

I know some need quiet solitude. I needed to be busy.  Even with all the work to catch up on when I got home, I knew leaving the family and going home would not be easy.

After completing “Sharing Shadows,” a memory surfaced.  Vivid.  An obvious regret… But, I can’t remember ever expressimg how sorry I am.  And how grateful I am just the same.

It was Jamie’s fourth birthday…exactly seven weeks before mine.  So much milling and scurrying about … Food prep here. Decor set there.  First born son, grandson.  

 “Rejoice with those who rejoice.”  

Not me.  All I wanted to think about was how it wasn’t my birthday.  I decided to boycott celebrating you because I wanted to be celebrated, too.  Candles, carrots, cake, surrounding song… I clenched my jaw & pressed out any expression of thanks for who you had already been in our brief four years of life.  Crossed arms. Weighty brow.

I’m not sure if you noticed, but your near constant smile and delight did not wane.  From meal to gift to dessert, you enjoyed your fourth birthday.

Even seven weeks later when my turn finally came, your smile and delight in my celebration on my day… Excited for me and with me… I realized, even at four, how wrong I was to withhold celebrating you.
You taught me a bit about real rejoicing on that fourth birthday.  Thank you.  And I wish I could sing Happy Birthday to you again.

Living Hope,

Heidi L. Paulec

After those intense moments, God’s grace did a healing work helping me to focus more on being thankful for the remaining family members, especially the grandchildren.  God granted strength to free my focus on this horrible death and shift to the life we who remain are called to live.

About two week later, Wanda and I traveled back to Carlton and Kathy’s to help them go through Jamie’s books, clothes, and other possessions. Such a difficult endeavor after any death.  I remembered my own father’s death.  He passed on when I was a young father with only two of our five children born at the time.  My mother told me then, “As hard as it may be, we must get rid of all the clothes and other personal possessions of the dead loved one as quickly as possible to prevent lingering sorrow.”  Although I did not want to forget Jamie, I shared this wisdom from my mother with Carlton and Kathy because they needed to shift their focus from his death to the lives they still had with Michael and Holly as well as with one another.

Death changes people.  And I am not referring to the one who dies.  I observed first hand the damage that can happen at the time of death back in World War II.  While operating a tank, my cousin Gerald was killed in Tunisia, Africa by a German shell.  His death caused his parents great sorrow, especially for his dad- my Uncle Herman.

Uncle Herman’s persisting focus on his son’s death rather than his life contributed to a lengthy time of bitterness.  He harbored much anger toward the Army as well as the War in general.  Later, Uncle Herman made difficult demands on his other, much younger son as though he needed to fill in for his dead brother.  I remember hearing remarks like: “You will never be able to do this work as good as your brother.”  This younger brother spent his life trying to do the impossible, even going to the extent of marrying a young lady who he knew his father liked only to divorce her as soon as his folks died.

This is the result of allowing sorrow to linger too long.  The Bible makes reference to this as “eating ashes” or “feeding on aches.”    We have time to focus on the death leading up to the funeral, but then we must choose to live the life God has given to us.  My own dealing with the finality regarding Jamie’s death came as I pondered the whole situation in my early morning prayers.  The thought came to me vividly, “Jamie is dead.  He is gone.  No way to bring him back…life must go on.”

“Come to me , all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”  Matthew 11:28-29

He really was a thoughtful and kind young man.  I do wish we could have seen him make it to adulthood and live up to his potential.   I remember the good times, and the pleasant things with Jamie.  However, I will not linger my thinking and overly dwell on the sorrow. “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”  II Peter 5:7   Ultimately, I have been comforted by remembering Jamie’s life and looking to the Lord for His daily guidance.

“Only as we remember and remind ourselves of God’s faithfulness can we ever see the pattern God has woven in our lives and learn confidence in His working.”

Ravi Zacharias Cries of the Heart pg. 25

In the years since, I have spoken often to Wanda, Gretchen and Lori (our daughters) the most about Jamie.  We still remember him with a smile.  My favorite memory of Jamie happened when we were vacationing with Carlton’s family in Hawaii.

As we stood on a high look-out-point, the wind came sweeping across the hill.  We all tensed to the brisk air.  However, Jamie quietly approached me. With his jacket in hand, he lifted and – silently – offered it to me.

Editor’s Note:  The photo collage for this blog entry (see above) includes one of Jamie overlooking a field in Hawaii from that trip.

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For additional reading… Grandpa Darrell is son of Grandma Hazel (Great-Grandmother’s Endurance) and     married to Grandma Wanda (Grandma Wanda… Beyond Brilliance (part 1)).