My Son

I wanted to relay something that happened to me today that struck me deeply. In order to explain it’s meaning, some back story is in order. We lost my oldest son last fall. When I say lost, he went missing on October 13th. He was dropped off at a bus station by the person he was living with, because he was belligerent and had worn out his welcome. He was in an intoxicated state, without his glasses, not dressed for the weather, no cell phone. That was the last anyone ever saw of him and no one heard from him after that. We began searching near the location he was last seen, weeks and weeks of family and friends looking. Weeks turned into months. On Feb. 4th at 10:30 PM we received a call from the coroner. His body was found about a half mile from where he was dropped off. He had probably passed away the night he was dropped off or very shortly after. The coroner could not determine whether or not it was from an overdose, exposure or a seizure. He was prone to some bad seizures over the years. His remains were in a state, such that we could not see him. (Weeks later I read the autopsy report and it was easily the most difficult thing I have ever done, except for keeping it together for 15 minutes talking to the coroner on that horrible night) 

We went through a battle with my son’s wife over the disposition of my boy’s remains. Instead of being able to grieve properly and begin the process of funeral and memorial service arrangements, she had all sorts of flaky ideas of what she wanted done. They were breaking up at the time he went missing and she did some horrible and hurtful things to him that may have contributed to his downward spiral. She should have had zero say in anything. With the council of a good friend who is also one of our pastors, we concluded it was best to stop fighting her and just went ahead and planned his memorial service for the good of the friends and family and so we could be at peace. She was not included in the proceedings however, as this would have really caused even further injury to loved ones. Months later she gave his cremains to her father to give to us along with the death certificate necessary for us to inter him in the memorial garden nearby. We haven’t done that yet, we are still trying to return to some sense of normalcy. I know that I will never get to that point entirely. Maybe 2/3 of the way is good enough? 

My commute to work each day passes within 50yds of where Jacob was found. The first month back to work was tough. I would be in tears every day for much of my drive and seriously considered a longer route to work, because it was that stressful. That did not seem right however. I say the Lord’s Prayer every time I go past the spot, and I talk to my son. Every time. I will never fail to do so. With passing weeks I found I could deal with it better each time I passed the spot. I did get blindsided a couple of weeks ago when driving past and it was like no time had gone by at all. I was barely functional when I arrived at work. With all his problems, weaknesses and the trouble he caused us over the years, I loved my oldest son more than even I realized until I lost him. My boy deserved better than the bad hand he was dealt. The neurological, mental health and addiction issues were a battle he ultimately lost. I feel like I failed him. I wish I had told him how much I loved him the last time I saw him. I will regret that until I die. Now on to what happened today.

I was fishing on Grand Lake in Colorado today with my other son, Jake’s little brother Aaron. We had a beautiful day for it and each of us were in our own fishing kayak on opposite sides of the bay on the east end of the lake. We had both had a bite or two but had caught no fish in several hours of fishing. I suddenly had the urge to offer up the Lord’s Prayer, which I did aloud. I then started to talk to Jacob, as if he was there with me. I recalled how much he loved fishing and how good a time he would be having if he was there with me today. I finished what I had to say and cast my line again. Halfway through the retrieve, I got a hit. I waited a second and when the fish hit again, I set the hook. I brought in a beautiful little ten inch rainbow trout. I had to let him go. I don’t have it in me these days to take the life of anything. After letting the little trout go, I was struck by the thought that I had been communicated with. I am still pondering what happened and while some may say it is purely coincidental, I believe otherwise. 

My son, Jake would have been 32 this past June. I think of him every day. Many times a day. I always will. Thanks for taking the time to read all of this.