It approaches like a long lumbering locomotive that you can see and even hear from a distance, but before you know it, here it is. Birthdays and anniversaries are that way, and remembering the day that someone died is also. Since it has now been fifteen years, and I’m certain that I’ve written something each of those years, I’m not sure what to say now. There are no new pictures, no new stories to tell, nothing current to share. Even so, as this train passes through the station, memories are stirred and reminders swirl around us like dust disturbed by the cars that pass too quickly. Long after the train has passed, the memories continue to settle in our hearts.
This year the day comes on a Sunday. That’s a risky day for a bereaved parent who is also a preacher. Our church has always been so supportive. Especially in those first few years. We had just moved to Monroe when tragedy struck. John Robert never lived here. Many of our newer church friends may not even know about him. I’m bringing it up because I didn’t have the foresight to take today off. I should have, for my own heart and my family. There’s always the possibility that an unexpected expression of grief could present itself at an untimely moment.
Everyone who has experienced the death of someone they love dearly can tell you that you never know when those memories will come flooding through, triggering a time of sadness and grief. It doesn’t take much - a smell, a resemblance, a phrase in conversation. Our worship leader often leads songs that John Robert led in worship when we lived in Pascagoula. That doesn’t necessarily make me sad, it’s a happy memory. But it sometimes produces tears anyway.
It’s graduation time in schools around the country. That’s a hard time as well. John Robert died just a few days before his graduation. We didn’t attend graduation ceremonies for many years until our precious Granddaughter Claire walked onto that stage. She’s the only one who could have motivated me into that setting.
Which all brings me to the treadmill at Planet Fitness last week. I walk for 30 minutes usually, as a part of my routine. About ten minutes into my walk tears started falling down my face. I can’t even tell you why. Perhaps I was thinking about graduation season … about his empty chair with just a picture instead of the boy who worked so hard to get to that point. Maybe it was the song that was playing in my earbuds at that moment.
Everybody falls sometimes, Gotta find the strength to rise
From the ashes and make a new beginning
Anyone can feel the ache, You think it's more than you can take
But you're stronger, stronger than you know - That’s What Faith Can Do, Kutless
Maybe it was a combination of all of it, and the anniversary of his death approaching. I was able to get it together eventually. One motive that helped me was that I didn’t want to show up in someone’s fail video on the internet if I lost my step and found myself at the mercy of the machine. Beyond that, my biggest surprise is that it was happening fifteen years later. I was caught off guard that the emotions were rising up from such a deep place in my heart.
Usually, I’m able to smile when I think about John Robert because he certainly gave us a lot to smile about. I don’t mind speaking his name, sharing his picture, or repeating a memory that comes to mind. But as the bereaved know, sometimes the mind surprises us by reaching down a little deeper and the tears come. I’m not ashamed to cry in front of anyone, but I don’t want others to be uncomfortable.
So Sunday the train rolls through the station. It won’t stop. It never does. The train of grief will wind its way through the special days, the Birthday in October, the missing voice at Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings, and around again to next May. Until it doesn't. One day I’ll join him on the train and we will catch up, no doubt laugh together, and look forward to what our Abba Father has planned for the ages ahead.
You can read more about John Robert’s Life Here:
I do want to note that I write about my own feelings and reflections. There’s a whole family of people who love and miss John Robert, but I do not presume to write for them. Our grief is both common and different. I can confidently say that the rest of the family also experiences their own grief at this time. Thanks for reading. - John
As our safe Harbor church says--we are with you.
Can't begin to imagine. Peace!