When Jack passed away, 7 years ago, still seems like yesterday sometimes, he was trying to save for his first tattoo. He knew exactly what he wanted and knew what it was going to cost him. He could have done it that month in May or it might have been 2 years later, Jack wasn’t good at saving money. Since his accident I live with many regrets, him not getting that tattoo before he died is just one of many. Regrets cut deep.

Everyone that knows our family and knows Jack’s story knows that Jack tended to spend his money on others in need, which is how the #loveBIG foundation came to be. I think it gave Jack great joy to do for others. “Joy” is a difficult concept after child loss. There is a lot of personal guilt associated with having “joy”, it does not feel right. I often feel like I don’t deserve it. At some point a year or so after Jack died I was explaining that to a friend and he said “amor fati”.  What? He said it’s Latin, look it up. So I did: “The phrase “amor fati”  is Latin that roughly translates to “love of fate” or “love of one’s fate.” The idea is one that’s used to describe a state of mind that allows you and I to accept, and even embrace, everything that happens around us in our pursuit of a good life. In other words, we must find “joy” in our circumstance. Practitioners of Amor Fati argue that it isn’t enough to simply bear what life throws our way; instead, we should try to embrace and even cherish both the highs, more difficult situations, and lows we find ourselves in.”

I had to sit with that concept for a long time before it really made sense to me. I have to have “joy” in my life while I wait to see my son again. Joy for my wife and my girls and the friends that matter. Joy for my Faith that assures that Jack and I will be reunited and I will hear his laugh and get one of his famous bear hugs. Life would not be worth living without joy. It dawned on me that “amor fati” would make a cool tattoo for me, but there had to be more than just the phrase. So I stuck that Latin and the understanding of its meaning in my pocket and tried to live it while I looked to complete the idea for a tattoo. About a year ago, I don’t remember how or who or when, grief brain you know, I picked up on the meaning of a lotus flower. It means many things in different cultures but check this, “Because lotuses rise from the mud without stains and they return to the murky water each evening and open their blooms at the break of day, lotus flowers are celebrated as symbols of strength, persistence resilience, and rebirth.” It took strength, persistence and resilience and a rebirth of sorts to be able to live for myself and others joyfully without guilt. Some days I fail miserably and some days so does Sarah. There are still days that I do not want to get out of bed, same for Sarah. Those days we lean in to God and each other and we just go until the Joy finds its way in. Joining “amor fati” together with the lotus flower completed my idea for a tattoo. I knew instantly that it had to happen. I sat down with a great artist on a Saturday afternoon in April and 4 1/2 hours later, JOY! Playing on Sarah’s first year of 13 things on the 13th…

Here is my list for year seven- straight from my grief stricken simple minded thinking:     
1.    We are on this earth for a short time     
2.    We all have struggles     
3.    If you are feeling sorry for yourself, look around at what others are going through. You have it OK
4.    Do not carry guilt that you cannot alter     
5.    Live kindly     
6.    Find a way to help others     
7.    Practice being selfless     
8.    Love those that matter to you, fiercely
9. Always forgive, no one says you have to forget
10. Do the right thing
11. Surround yourself with your people and put your energy there – while always being open to expand the circle     
12. Have Faith in our Savior. He assures me that I will see my son soon and spend all eternity with those I love.     
13. JOY

I recently heard this question posed on a podcast and I have not been able to stop thinking about it.  My initial head voice was a bit sarcastic. Yep! It’s the gift that keeps on giving. It gives me: pain, sadness, anger, frustration, physical maladies, brain fog, a whole list of “what if’s”, regret, guilt, and questioning. But… then I had the opportunity to take several trips that calmed my world and opened space for true pondering. My first nudge to think differently, was a visit to the 911 Memorial and Museum. I went on my own, which by the way included my first independent Subway ride- I impressed myself. I actually picked up the audio tour and spent the time to hear the background and purpose for each item selected for the museum. The wall pictured below includes a quote made of iron. While the quote alone is powerful, it was the artists share that he used iron because when “iron is touched by fire, it goes through a transformative process.”

Hmm… I believe when I got the knock on the door 7 years ago this week, fire touched my life. It was immediate, physical and emotional pain. In that minute, what I didn’t believe was that I would ever find anything good resulting from the heartbreak of hearing, “Ma’am, your son didn’t survive.” As the days went by, I would slowly identify some good that would at least momentarily numb the heartbreak. My son was in the ultimate “good place” with no more sorrow or pain. That one “good” took me through a large amount of questioning. Selfishly, I would still prefer to have his big presence in my home, going through my pantry, making up Jackisms, and hugging me from behind while I’m at the kitchen counter. I found good in my son’s story and life choices, but that good could have been extended had this not happened. So, to keep that good going, the #loveBIG Foundation was formed. As his story and our response were shared, I started receiving requests from friends to help other hurting moms and dads that were walking through tough times, teenage angst, or even grief from child loss. This might be a text string or phone calls or FB messages, but I could do that. I could show up to explain there would be some good again, in time, after the heartbreak. This led to me joining the Stephen Ministry program at my church. If I’m going to use my experience, I want to use it well. This created a place for me to offer my ears and empathy beyond just the casual requests from friends. During these seven years, gosh that’s hard to type… how is it 7, our family has endured several other losses and changes. One endurance encountered is ushering our youngest though some tough stuff. Post Concussion Syndrome to physical ailments to mental health challenges… we have battled alongside her. I must admit during these trials, I am/was guilty of questioning…more heartbreak? Really? When does the break come? When does the good lighten the backpack we carry that feels full of rocks? During my more recent travels, it dawned on me, I really was enjoying traveling (which I always thought I hated). I was meeting new people, hearing their stories, slowing down to match their pace of life, and appreciating their history.  I could build connections, appreciate others, and empathize far more deeply than prior to that knock. Traveling allowed for more time to walk and appreciate my surroundings. Quiet the sarcastic voice and really consider the question I heard in the fall of 2023.   If you are still reading this very disconnected post, you may be putting it together. It took a lot of ah ha moments for me to receive the message. My belief system has changed a bit in the past seven years. Like iron, the heat of the fire of grief and life, has transformed me in multiple ways. The iron doesn’t form letters perfectly with one moment of fire, but the iron must be worked, molded, the heat turned up and down-a transformative process.  I am ready to say that, while I would not wish for a loss like Jack for anyone, ever, the heartbreak has become my gift.  In the transformation, I slow down, travel, listen, empathize, minister, walk alongside, and have more insight than I did before. I will forever have a before and after. I am confident in stating that out of heartbreak, I have found my gift.