The Parents Who Did Something Grand

I first wanted to widely open up the discussion of suicide prevention, especially in young men. Maybe I could finally write like I've always wanted to and out of that will come words that will lift the pain of others. I had visions that sales from this book would open a new organization or place or something that would be safe for these young men to go for help.

I'm a private person and have always felt sorry for those in the limelight who have cameras flashing at them, have stories from their past told on the front page of a rag magazine, and condemning critics. I was willing to give myself totally to the effort, take the flashlight and point it.

I wanted to make something of this like Mark Klaas did when his daughter, Polly was murdered. Or how John Walsh started such a wonderful organization and made us all aware with Adam's story. Wonderful laws are being made to protect our children by the energy of grieving parents all over this country.

To get out my writer's nervous energy, I now write to our Soldiers overseas. I'm on the official Soldier's Angels Letter Writing Team.It makes me feel good to think that because I spend a little time each week and one stamp that I can comfort someone serving our country if only for the few minutes it takes to read it.

After I made a couple of quilts for our wounded troops, that led to the information about the Women's Center being built and started in Afghanistan. I volunteered to take on the need for aprons for these women who are desperately wanting to learn how to can food.

So, maybe I don't have the courage or enthusiasm to open up the wounds of suicide and try to help someone else. But I CAN write a letter and sew some scraps of cotton together to make quilts and aprons.

For now, that's how I'm coping. I once heard that sewing is a number one stress reducer. All I know is that when I'm sewing and making something that others will truly appreciate and make them feel good, it keeps me going. It's actually quite addictive.

Then there was Howie

A few years after Shane died, Ryan was finally getting to the point where he could go hang out with friends and have fun. One night his friends came to pick him up and go to Howie's house (out in the country) to play pool and hang out.

The next morning I was awakened to Ryan crumpled over on the stairs with a living room full of teenage boys. Ryan was crying that Howie got shot and died. They had all spent the night at the hospital.

It also happened to be the morning of the Oklahoma City bombing. What in the heck is happening in this world?

Evidentally, a deranged, drunken father of a girl from their school showed up at midnight, forced his way into Howie's home, held a gun to his forehead and pulled the trigger. Mistaken identity. He was looking for another one of their friends. He chased my son through the house like an animal while Ryan pleaded for his life. The shooter didn't shoot Ryan.

We had to go through not one, but two trials. If none of you have ever been involved in a murder, when we got to court (which was many miles away each day), there were 16" x 20" enlargements of Howie's face with a black hole in his forehead on display throughout the entire 4 day trial.

Surreal. I finally learned what that word means. I sat there in a courtroom out in the country hills looking at a man who tried to kill my son, and did kill his best friend, Howie.

It was a few years later when my uncle, Phil, died and we had to go to the funeral. Uncle Phil was Ryan's father image. Phil and Ryan were very close, and Ryan had as much as any 19 year old could take. His brother, his best friend, his father figure. Ryan sat next to me for the longest time and then disappeared into the men's room. I convinced him to come out and we'll go home.

A few year's later Ryan went to the cemetary to join his brother and his friend. He told me once that he wished that shooter had of just killed him, too, right there that night with Howie.

I miss they're friends, too!

As every mother knows, when you have a couple of children close in age, you spend your life getting to know their friends, too. When Shane died, I also lost his friends who used to come by and chat with me now and then.

After Ryan died, there were no more young men (his friends) around here, either. Every so often on Ryan's birthday we all meet at the cemetary with cake and celebrate Ryan's life. That seemed to have faded away, too.

If any of the boys' friends stop by and read this, please leave me a hello?!

I miss your stories.

How can I help someone else

when I couldn't even help my own two boys? Here's what I'm doing.

Once I realized I would never have any grandchildren, I appointed myself as a surrogate grandma. I started watching this precious little boy when he was just a few weeks old. Now he's three years old and is the light of my life. He goes to Montessori School three days a week and he stays with me the other two days.

The thing about young babies and children is you don't have time to think about the past, or worry about the future. You are in the here and now every minute. Appreciating every crumb of life.

The next project I took on is joining the Letter Writing Team for Soldier's Angels. I receive names each week and write to our Troops overseas. I thank them for the sacrifices they've made and let them know that we are still thinking of them and praying for their safe and quick return home to America.

I got out my sewing machine, took off the dusty cover and oiled it up. I've been making quilt blocks for charity quilts--going to children's hospitals and for Quilts of Valor for our wounded Soldiers.

Then came my new project: Aprons for Afghanistan! Check it out:

http://apronsforafghanistan.blogspot.com/