Dear Aimee, Happy Anniversary. I'm getting married again.

Dear Aimee,
Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart. Today would have been our eighth, and I have no doubt that the last two and a half years would have been as wonderful as the first five and half were.

If only we could have had the chance to find out.

Rowan is amazing, by the way. I mean, wow. The kid just turned SIX. Can you believe that? But what blows me away is how smart, funny, compassionate, and sweet she is. You know, just like you were. If I was going to have to be a single dad of a child, you could not possibly have left me with a better one. :)

But I guess I'm stalling here. Let me get to the real reason I wrote this letter to you.

I'm getting remarried.

I suppose if you really can see us down here from the glorious heaven above (and I hope for all of our sake that you can't), you already knew that. Sarah and I have been engaged for more than six months now, and the wedding planning began almost as long ago. But with the wedding being now less than two months away, and with today being your and my anniversary, I thought it fitting to tell you now.

I know this is what you wanted. I remember you and I talking about this once, and you making it clear you would want me to get remarried. Maybe you knew Rowan would really want a mom (she does). Maybe you you were aware of how much more work it is to run a household and raise a child on your own. Or maybe you were realistic about how long I'd really be able to last on my own as a single parent. :)  Either way, I recall you being very firm in your belief that if anything ever happened to you, that you wanted me to remarry.

Well, now that time is upon us. And Aimee, I really hope you would have approved of her, especially as she is going to have a huge influence on your daughter.

I think I've done well, choosing Sarah to join our family. First and foremost, she really loves both Rowan and me. And she has in common with you a strong faith in God, a deep desire to care for those she loves, and a healthy dose of patience (which anyone around me needs). Also like you, she is a strong woman, not easily bowled over by life's trials or my Type A episodes.

I'd like to think that the two of you would have truly liked each other, had you had the chance to know each other in this life. And so it is my sincere hope that if you are watching, if you can see us, that you know that Rowan and I both simultaneously miss you every day, but are also happy. And I hope that we would have your blessing on the upcoming marriage and life together. Because since the day you died, I have lived a great deal of my life by the standard of wanting you to be proud of what I've done and the decisions I've made, especially the ones that affect Rowan.

May this decision fall among the ones you would have approved of.

With deepest love and affection on our anniversary,
-Patrick

Does everything happen for a reason?

Romans 8:28: And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. (NKJV)

I remember as a preteen having a conversation with my mom about religion, and she brought up this verse. I don't recall the context, but I remember being struck by the hope it seemed to offer.

All things work together for good.

This became my "life verse", a phrase known to many within the Christian faith - a particular verse by which people live their lives, or find their hope, or which somehow plays a significant role. For me, a child with an abusive, alcoholic father, this verse offered me the promise that things would work out for good.

And they did work out for good, for the most part. I managed to grow up to be a mostly emotionally healthy human being, free of most of my father's nasty baggage. I found success where he swore I never would, graduated from college, and made a great life for myself. I did not do this on my own, by any stretch of the imagination, for I had many people on my side and supporting me. But I'm sure they were all part of God's plan to make sure things worked out for good.

Then Aimee died.

This image came off the Facebook
page for The Breast Cancer Site,
literally during the same time I
was writing this post

In the aftermath, I grabbed onto the same hope I always had, that somehow, some way, possibly in a place and time I would never see in this life, this would work out for good.

Now I know not everyone believes as I do. But even many of those who do not subscribe to a particular faith still seem to have a need for this hope. For those who do not consider themselves religious, they might reference this hope by another phrase:

"Everything happens for a reason."

In either case, these words offer us a hope that when something horrible happens to us or a loved one, that there will be a redemption of some sort. That even if wrongs are not made right in this life, or if justice is not truly served here on earth, that somehow whatever happened will work towards some type of positive outcome.

But is that really true? Does everything actually happen for a reason? Does everything work together for good?

I met someone fantastic almost a year after Aimee died, and we're getting married in a few months. But just because things are going well isn't the same as 'all things working out for good'. The fact that I'm marrying a great woman is wonderful, but it doesn't take away my or Rowan's pain from Aimee's death. We will deal with this loss for the rest of our lives. So while you can say we're making the best of our lives - and I'm sure as hell trying to do just that - I'm not sure at this point I can say that it's all worked out for good. Or at least not for more good than what we had before, that's for certain.

Of course, we don't know what might have been if Aimee hadn't died. We don't know what the other road would have looked like. It may be that in fact, her dying on that boat was 'for the good'. It may be that the alternative, maybe cancer, maybe something somehow worse, would have been much harder on all of us, including Aimee.

I guess that's where faith comes in. Whether that faith is in God or karma or whatever, I think we all need that hope that when bad things happen, especially senseless bad things, that somehow the end result is going to be a good one.

Good news

Recently I found out that Caroline (Aimee's sister-in-law) got some long hoped-for good news. While I'm not at liberty to share what the news is, I can say that all of us are extremely happy for her. And as I reflected on this latest development in her life, I came to a startling realization.

Aimee's sister-in-law
Caroline

It's a miracle she's even here at all.

Her good news is a reminder to me of how close we came to losing two members of our family on December 18 (for those that didn't know, Caroline was also on the boat that day). And there were six other people on the boat as well, including two members of the crew, any of whom might not have lived if things had just even the tiniest bit differently. In fact, another passenger did  almost die, and apparently had to be revived with CPR.

I don't spend a lot of time wondering about the "why" of it all. That's not always for us to know. But Caroline's great news is a reminder that sometimes the "why not" is even more important. Why didn't anyone else on the boat die that day?

As a firm believer in God, I have to believe that Aimee's work here on earth was complete. (I vehemently disagree with His perfect wisdom on this one, but I'm not going to win any arguments against The Almighty.) But for the others on the boat that day, their work here on earth is obviously not done. There is more for them to do, and hopefully their second chance is not lost on them (I know it's not lost on Caroline).

I got my own second chance when I was 17. I was in a horrific car accident that most people didn't even know about. Car was demolished. I crawled out without a scratch, and the driver only had a scrape across his cheek. Due to the specific circumstances of that crash, I most certainly should have died, and a number of laws of physics were broken in order to have the outcome we had. As a dumb teenager, I had no idea how miraculous that was at the time, but I've realized it since then.  And I know that it has helped shape my attitude towards life and my fellow humans. I was kept alive for a reason.

Caroline, my sincere congratulations on your good news. I can't tell you how glad I am you're here to have this moment.

Caroline also has a blog that you ought to check out. She's a far better writer than I am.

Sandy Hook

I'm upset. Angry. Heartbroken.

I keep seeing two images from the deadly tragedy. The first is a line of children being led across a parking lot, and one little girl in particular is sobbing. And I think about how horrendous it is when children are forced to face death in ways even most adults shouldn't have to. I think of the terrible fear those poor kids must have felt when the gunshots started. I think of kids that saw their friends or teachers being shot, and how that trauma is going to be with them for life.

I think of kids trying to figure out how to cope with the death of people they knew and loved. I think of how children that young should never have to face death in such a close, personal way. I think of that because after a year of watching Rowan go through it I know how hard it is.

The other image that stays with me is the image of a man, presumably a father of one of the victims, leaning with his head against a car window, crying (now I can't find it again). While I do know loss, I can't fathom the loss of my child, especially in such a senseless, tragic way. I pray to God I never do know that pain (and I think of Donna as I say that).

I have been fighting tears all day. I'm sure I'm especially sensitive to this due to the nearness of the one year anniversary of Aimee's death, but I've been more sensitive to these types of things ever since she died last year. The empathy I feel for people who experience sudden loss has been magnified dramatically since last December. I imagine parents, husbands, or wives getting that phone call or that knock on the door, and getting that terrible news. Thinking of them going through that brings back with sick clarity the moment when Justin came through the door of that house with the news that Aimee was dead, and remembering that what made it hit home was seeing those policemen and others standing at the door. That's when I knew without a doubt that this was real. And then my mind goes back to these families going through that experience themselves, and my heart just breaks all over again for every one of them.

The only hope I have is this:

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away. Revelation 21:4, NKJV

That verse (which was at the end of Aimee's tribute video) is one of the greatest comforts in times like this. I know not everyone believes what I believe, and that's fine. But for me, I can not imagine how I could possibly have any hope in this world if I didn't know in my heart that ultimately God will redeem all the bad and evil for good, and that His perfect will and justice will prevail.

_______________________________________________________________
PS. I know many people feel very strongly about gun rights and gun control laws in when events like this happen. I would ask that this blog post not be used for those discussions. There are more appropriate forums for those discussions, and I prefer to focus on more universal concepts at this time, such as our shared grief over tragedies such as this. Thanks.

Am I angry at God?

Most people who know me know that I am a Christian. As such, I've been asked multiple times "about my faith." This question comes in various forms, but in the end, they're all trying to get to one thing.

Am I angry at God because of Aimee's death?

The question makes complete sense. After all, I truly believe and often said that Aimee was a gift from God to me. No one likes it when our most precious gifts are taken back, do we? I also believe that God is omnipotent, and that therefore He could have saved Aimee's life. So if God could have saved Aimee and didn't, it could be argued that my loss (and the loss of so many others) is God's fault, right?

Well, I can't really say I think God is 'at fault', because to me that would imply a flaw or imperfection - that God made a mistake. And since hold to traditional Christian doctrine - that God is perfect and without flaw - the position that this is God's 'fault' doesn't work for me. But what I can say is that at that moment, as in all others, God was in control, and as such, He allowed Aimee to die that day.

My life verse, Romans 8:28, states that:
"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according toHis purpose." NKJ version

Early on after Aimee's death I said that I didn't think that would mean that things would always work for my good. But that's actually contrary to what this verse says. It does in fact state clearly that all things work together for good for those that love God. That includes me.

So, let's review my beliefs to this point:

• God does not make mistakes.
• God was in control and allowed Aimee to die. 
• All things will work together for good, for me and all those who love God. Now that may not be the way I envision it or hope for it, but that doesn't mean it won't be for my good.

And where does that leave me? That despite the pain I have felt over Aimee's death, someday and in some way the end result of this will be for my good. And I believe for Rowan's good as well.

And this, my friends, lies at the very heart of my recovery from this tragic ordeal. For if I could not believe that God was infallible, or if I thought God could not control events on earth, or that He did not care for me and what happens to me or to Rowan, I could not possibly have much hope for my future at all.

Does that mean I have not gotten angry at God? Well, the most part, I haven't. There have been a few brief moments, but I always come back to the three points above. That and to Job, who while suffering greatly responded to his wife's complaints, "Shall we accept good from the Lord and not the bad?" (my paraphrase).

So no, I am not angry with God. And I believe that in the next life, God in His mercy will reveal to me the breadth of the good that came from both Aimee's life and her death (like the people who are helped by this blog), and I am certain that I will not be able to argue with the perfection and beauty of God's ultimate plan.

One last thing. The above arguments apply to Aimee, too. Meaning, I sincerely believe that her death was what was best for Aimee as well. I don't know why, and never will this side of heaven, but I'm certain of it. Maybe Aimee would have gotten cancer, or had some other horrible condition or accident befall her. Maybe it would have been more than she, I, or Rowan could have borne. I don't know. All I do know is that what happened, as bad as it has been, is for the best.

Nine long months, Part 2

Through his blog, I have tended more to write about the hard parts of loss and grief, with much less space dedicated to the recovery from it. Well in this post, written nine months to the day after Aimee's death, I want to write about where I am after going through nine months of grief, sadness, and above all, healing.

First, let's be clear about something: I miss Aimee. I really do. She was an amazing, special, incredible woman to everyone who knew her, and I had the honor and pleasure of knowing her more intimately than nearly anyone else. But as much as I loved her and still miss her, Aimee is not and was not my entire life, especially since Rowan was born.

Over the past nine months, I have worked on healing the gigantic hole her death left in my life. And I've done so by focusing on creating new memories, and strengthening the bond I have with my daughter. I also never tried to bottle up or push down or drown my grief, but just took deep breaths and dealt with it. And slowly but surely, I am coming into a new place of being able to find joy in life again. Joy not just in Rowan, but in my own life as well.

I know that the next few months are going to present me with some potentially horrific days. Scattering Aimee's ashes on October 25. The anniversary of her death on December 18. And, well, that entire roughly two weeks from then until the end of the year.

So as I stand here today, I am not "fully healed", whatever that might mean. I am not done feeling grief, or sadness, or loss. I will probably feel those in moments now and then for the rest of my life. Most especially when it comes to Rowan's milestones, I know I will wish that Aimee had had the chance to see them, knowing how much she absolutely adored her little one, just as I do.

But I am moving forward.

I can do so because I am strong. Not on my own, but through God who strengthens me, through the love, prayers, and support of countless people from family to strangers.. Acts of friendship and kindness of endless magnitude and tiniest measure, all held me up and gave me hope. My mental state today is the end product of all the people who have loved me and cared for me since last December 18. I owe so much that I can never hope to repay.

I am still recovering, and I still have weak moments. I sometimes struggle with loneliness, especially after having had such a wonderful marriage. I miss that fulfillment in my life. But more and more firmly each day, I place one foot in front of the other, and I walk through life.

And as I do so, I hold the hand of my little angel and bring her with me, showing her the beauty that still exists in this world, as I myself learn to see it again.

What I prayed tonight

Earlier tonight was rough. Rowan was having tummy pain and I had a hard time finding something that made her feel better enough to go to sleep. I was finally successful at about half past 10.

A couple of hours later I was getting ready to go to bed myself (trying to get more than 3-4 hours of sleep these days). As I let the dog out to do her business, I decided I needed to spend a few minutes outside under the stars, talking to God. Here is what I said.

"God, thanks for Rowan going to sleep. I pray whatever was wrong with her tummy is gone now, and she gets a good night's sleep (so I can too). I really love that little girl.

It's in moments like these when I miss Aimee, not only because she would have handled this, but because she would have known how to. If she's up there with You right now, please tell her I love her and I miss her. Tell her that I always think about all those times when she said she felt confident that I could raise Rowan if anything ever happened to her, and that I try to prove her right, no mater how lost I sometimes feel.

I hope I appreciated her enough when she was here. I think I did, I know I thanked You for her frequently and I worked to show Aimee by words and actions how much she meant to me. But if I fell short, please also tell her that too. She was an incredible gift from You.

I never wanted You to take her away from me.

And Lord, please tell her I hope she understands that I'm starting to look for someone else who can come into our lives. It's not that I didn't love her that much. In fact, in some ways it's because of my great love for her that I want to move on. She showed me what a wonderful, amazing thing a great marriage was, and I miss that. She taught me about the importance of each parent to a child, and I want a mother for Rowan. She opened my eyes to all the ways I could be a good husband and father, and she did it without saying much, but through her great example, and I really long to have a partner like that again, but as a wife and as a fellow parent. I miss loving someone like that.

Tell Aimee that Rowan misses her too. She says it a lot more now than she used to, and she cries more often. But she also seems to know that she can come to me and cry to me and that she's safe with me. Let Aimee know that as much as Rowan can be right now, she is happy, even in her grief.

So Lord, help me be a great father, especially now. And when I go up to Rowan's room in a few minutes and lean over and kiss the top of her head as she sleeps, I'll pray to You again soon, this time for her health and well-being and her future.

Thank You for listening to me.

In Jesus' name,
Amen."