From my other sister, Samantha

Today I'm posting an entry from my sister Samantha, who shared her reflections and thoughts about Aimee's death. (You can find the posts from my sister Shannon here and here.) 

Samantha and Aimee,
October 2011

This post has been very hard for me to write. Not because I have a lack of words, but rather too many. The life and death of such an amazing woman and her impact cannot be summed up easily.

With all sincerity I will say Aimee is one of the most beautiful people I have ever known. I loved her tremendously. There was no effort in it. I was always so excited to see her and just being in her presence gave me great pleasure. Aimee was particularly special to me. I am very reserved with people. Yet from the get go when Aimee and I talked, or gave each other “a look”, it was clear. I loved this woman! She was full of life, love and just the right amount of “one tough cookie”. I can’t help but smile through my tears as I remember her.

The last time I saw Aimee was on Thanksgiving. We did the dishes together and joked around. That memory is the hardest for me because I truly enjoyed our time together and it would be the last time I saw her. I admired her hair color and she said she would send me a message later as I was going to dye it the same color. A few days later she messaged me with the color name and joked that it was “top secret”. That was the last time I talked to her.  Patrick and Aimee headed for Florida and I kept up with them on Facebook expecting to see them again around Christmas. They were having fun and I didn’t have any worries. My own Facebook status the night before Aimee died stood out to me AFTER the events that took place. I had no inclination or bad feeling and am not implying that. I post Scripture a lot but the night before was James 4:14.  

“How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog--it's here a little while, then it's gone.”

- Life is short no matter how many years we live. Don't be deceived into thinking that you have lots of remaining time to live for Christ, to enjoy your loved ones, or to do what you know you should. Live for God today! Then, no matter when your life ends, you will have fulfilled God's plan for you. ~Jos~~

The next day came that phone call…. My mom “you need to sit down”.  Me crying out, “it must be a mistake! No!” The kids and I were taking family Christmas pictures when I got that call. I tried to get away from the kids as fast as possible being suddenly aware that my reaction was probably scaring them. I was in absolute shock. It was mostly a blur after that. I remember crying out to God. I remember trying to reach my husband who is deployed in Afghanistan and having no way of reaching him except to wait for him to call. I was thinking “I need my husband to comfort me!!!” and immediately realizing in absolute horror that my brother must so desperately want the comfort of his dear wife but she would not be returning to him, ever…. I wanted to go to Florida.  I wanted to fly down immediately to be with him. I kept thinking of my brother thousands of miles away from home dealing with this. I wanted to hug him desperately. I don’t know who told me that it would not help as he would be back by the time I got there. Either he did or my mother, I don’t remember.  That was one of those moments when you feel completely helpless to do anything. I prayed a lot! Time seemed to stand still. At the same time I knew I had to hold it together for those around me. My kids were all very upset about their Aunt. I couldn’t sleep at all. When I got to my brother’s house I sobbed in the car before I went in and then composed myself before entering. I went over to play with Rowan and she saw I sniffled. Immediately she said “I will get you a tissue!” When she brought it to me I said “I just have a little stuffy nose hon”. She looked at me and said “my mommy drowned and it is sad” in a very sweet way. Heartbreak… “Oh God” must have uttered from my heart a thousand times that day and the ones to follow. I went upstairs while my sons played downstairs with Rowan. I watched my brother, Justin, Caroline, my mom, my sister, and other people coming and going as if it was in slow motion. Surreal is the only word I have for it. So much pain... The memorial came and when my brother and Bart sang “Aimee’s Song” I sobbed uncontrollably.

I couldn’t sleep at night as I kept thinking about how Aimee died. When I closed my eyes at I would imagine her frantic to get out of that boat. The desperation to see her little girl and her beloved husband kept replaying in my mind. My husband gave me the advice to “Focus on Where she is, not how she got there” and I have ever since. I do not let my mind wander to that boat. The fact is I do not know what happened in those last moments. I wasn’t there but God was. I had to remind myself that God is good, to trust Him and to rest in Him.  

In all this is my deep love for my brother and Rowan. How my heart breaks for them. How much my heart breaks for my brother….  No matter how old we are he is still my “big bro”. I see him go on, move through the days and I look in his eyes and wish I could reach out and take it away. I know I do not understand exactly what he feels and I also know there is absolutely nothing I can do or say to take away his hurt. So again I am reminded to look to God and pray. And again I rest in knowing that God is good and He is with my brother and Rowan, I can see it. I find peace in knowing that our beloved Aimee is with the Lord and I will see her beautiful smile once again and it will be for eternity. As real and painful as these sorrows are now I know there will come a day when it will all be a distant memory and my brother will once again embrace his Aimee without fear of loss. Rowan will know her mommy.  And in that day, I will smile at the sight of it all.  Yes, God is very good <3

The biggest piece of Aimee to go is gone tomorrow

Goodbye, old maroon Toyota Corolla.

Aimee's car has been the biggest tangible object of hers still around. It caused some tears when Rowan and I first arrived home from Florida. Justin and Caroline used for the month they stayed here after Aimee's death. Then is sat in front of Donna's house, a constant, silent reminder, for the next seven months after that. A couple of weeks ago, Donna finally brought it to my place, so I could clean it up and sell it.


A potential buyer came by yesterday, decided to take it, and is picking it up tomorrow.

The somewhat infamous maroon Toyota will be gone. (Infamous because the interior of Aimee's car looked like she was homeless and living in that car. With a hairy dog that shed a lot. The exterior wasn't much better.)

I never was much attached to that car. I used to tease Aimee about it and she's give me the evil eye and say that her car was a "right par-ful drivin' m'chine" in a mock redneck accent (she was from rural Indiana, after all). But Donna, who expresses her feelings more through tangible objects, cries every time she thinks about Aimee's car being gone (I jokingly offered to sell it to her to leave in front of her house, but she laughed and said her neighbors wanted that eyesore out of the neighborhood). And Rowan is attached to it as well. Until Aimee's death, Rowan spent much more of her first 3 1/2 years riding in that car with her mommy than she did in mine. Several times in the last couple of weeks, she's wanted to just go sit in Aimee's car. And since I took it to get the oil changed today, I took Rowan to school in it. Her voice broke this morning as she told me she was going to be sad when mommy's car was gone.

I consoled her as best as I could, and tried to shift her attention to things of Aimee's were keeping, like her wedding dress (which Rowan LOVES). That seemed to significantly improve her outlook, but I suspect there may be a few more tears between now and tomorrow.

No matter what, that car is one of the last, and certainly the biggest piece of Aimee that we still have.

And soon, it too will be gone.

Dating again

OK, so you had to know this topic was going to come up sooner or later...

As time has passed, I have begun to look to the future, and focus less on the past. And one way that I'm looking forward is thinking about beginning to date again.

First, let's cover something very important. Most members of my and Aimee's immediate family, especially Aimee's mother, are supportive of me getting on with my life (in a dating sense of the word). In fact Donna has been encouraging me to begin dating again for some time, although she hasn't been pushy about it.



Aimee and I were often silly together. It
was one of the best parts of our relationship.

So back to that weird place I'm in. On the one hand, I am and have been quite lonely since Aimee's death. A normal reaction, I'm certain. Furthermore, I LOVED being married. I'm certain having the wife I did had a lot to do with that, but I miss terribly that level of love, affection, play and so on that made such an intimate relationship so special. And I have no doubt that there is someone else out there with whom I can share that again.

There is also Rowan (lest anyone foolishly thought this was all about me). She has steadfastly expressed, repeatedly over time, that she wants a mommy. She said as much to me again the day before yesterday. (In her Disney Princess level knowledge of life and 'love', she doesn't understand why this request can't be filled in the fairly immediate future. Don't I just go to the Royal Ball and dance with Cinderella or find some random sleeping princess and kiss her?) I want Rowan to have a mother, and not just any mother, but a great one. Further, Aimee and I were so adamant about treating each other with love, kindness, and respect at all times, but especially in front of Rowan. Why? We knew that we would set up her expectations for what her own marriage should look like. Without the right partner to model that with for her, I feel like some valuable lessons may get missed (though I admit this is a little bit less of a concern, as I feel there are some lessons along these lines I can teach her in other ways).

And finally, I can honestly say that I do have the capacity to have feelings for someone else, though growth of any relationship will have to take time.

But then there's the other side of things. I'm worried that getting into a relationship with me any time in the near future might be something like dating someone with a serious illness. You know they'll probably recover someday, but you also know that you're probably not getting them at their best, fullest ability right now. That doesn't seem completely fair. How do I balance being available to someone, and being open with them about who I am and how I feel, but not burden them with someone else I used to love (and in many ways always will) when I have tough days? And trust me, I'm not self-delusional enough to think that tough days are over (ha!) or will end after a few more months or after the one year anniversary or any other marker. I'm guessing tough days will appear, though with less frequency over time, for many years to come.

All that to say, I'm thinking about it. I haven't been on a first date in almost nine years. Of course, dating back then was a lot simpler, since I was just looking for someone for me. Now I'm looking for someone for both me and Rowan (at least eventually). And marriage, if and when that day comes again, is a long way off no matter what. I want to make sure that I'm pretty certain about a potential spouse before I really begin to get them much involved in Rowan's life. The last thing I want is for Rowan to get attached to someone and have it not work out. Another significant loss in her life, especially of a person she might see in a mother role, is something I'd really like to avoid. She took it hard enough when her first post-Aimee babysitter took another job. Daddy life and dating life will stay separated for quite some time.

There's one more thing I consider. Life is short and unpredictable. I now know that all too well. What if in fact I do only have weeks or months left? Is it good for me to stay alone, unhappily so, just because some people might think I should? Should the opinions of others even be importnat? I think not. I need to live my own life, and I can't worry about what people who aren't living my life think about how I'm doing so.

So, I don't know exactly when, but I do plan on moving into this next phase of life again soon. For my sake and ultimately for Rowan's as well.

Church picnic: Trauma SERIOUSLY revisited

As you may have seen from yesterday morning's post, it was my church's annual picnic, and I wasn't really all that excited about going.

I went anyway, but as it turns out, I probably should have stayed home.

Not that long after I got there, as lunch was winding down, I was standing in the playground area, keeping an eye on Rowan. At some point, I noticed that nearly everyone on the beach at the side of the lake was standing up, looking towards the water. Initially, I didn't think much of it, assuming someone was racing kayaks or something else that people found interesting, until a second glance told me that no such activity was going on.

It was about then that a flood of emergency vehicles started showing up.

It didn't take a genius to put 2 and 2 together. People were staring at the water, and emergency crews had just arrived - someone was drowning or had drowned.

I felt a pit in my stomach.

As the minutes added up, I learned bits and pieces... a teenage boy... they couldn't find him, though they were pretty certain he was in the water, and had been for some time... was there with his sister...

Photo from KOMO 4 News

As the crews worked to find him, which they eventually did, our church gathered to pray for him and his family. Up to this point I had been intentionally keeping from Rowan what was going on, and was successful. But as we joined the group, Rowan sensed the sadness and started to whimper with fear. I'm sure she heard a few words that triggered it: under water - drowning - death.

I felt the trigger too, and at this point started to lose my composure. I knew the best thing was for Rowan and I to get the heck out of the middle of the prayer group, and I took her back to the playground. As she jumped on the equipment, I sat down at the edge and just completely lost it.

I mean, completely.

I sobbed like a baby, like I hadn't done since the first week of Aimee's death. I kept trying to get it under control, but I couldn't. At some point, several minutes later, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I tried again  (unsuccessfully) to gain my composure. It was no use. My hands were soaked, as was my face. And still it came, until finally, I was able to get a hold of myself and get myself under control again.

I looked up to find a gal from sitting next to me with her hand on my shoulder. She and her husband were two of the first friends Aimee and I had made at the church, and we'd continued our friendship over the last few years. I was glad she was there.

And although this didn't occur to me until later, I was also glad that Donna had not come with us.

I'm not sure exactly what triggered such a powerful reaction. Maybe it was simply the thought of the loss of another life due to drowning. Maybe it was the thought of what his family would go through. I don't know, but it was really strong, and shook me really badly.

According to this news report, published several hours after the incident, the teen was actually still breathing and in the hospital. However, it also said he was underwater for about 30 minutes. While I'll continue to pray for a miraculous recovery, I just don't see how he'll live after half an hour without oxygen. 

The dreaded church picnic

Today (8/5) is our annual church picnic. Typically I really enjoy these. There's a ton of really good food, lots of great people from the church, and it has been sunny every time I've gone (supposed to be near 90 tomorrow).

But these "family" gatherings are tough. Like birthday parties for Rowan's classmates. It's impossible for me not to notice other families, especially at a church like ours, where the majority (or so it seems) are two-parent families with a happy mom and a happy dad and happy kids. I certainly don't begrudge them. And the people in my church are among the most sincere and genuine people I've ever met, and so it's not some big sham. Which makes it harder. I'm surrounded by lots of happy (whole) families.

It's really hard for me to see these families and not REALLY feel, down to my bones, that which I am missing. The hole in our family feels magnified significantly in these settings. My loneliness wells to the surface too, normally kept predominantly quiet until after Rowan goes to bed each night. In other words, it's depressing.

I'm seriously considering skipping it.

The things is, this is unlikely to change much until I start dating again. Other aspects of this loss will (hopefully, probably) get easier over time, but I don't think this one will as long as I'm single.

Oh, and one other thing. Unlike the last few years, when Aimee and I would trde off watching/playing with Rowan so the other could eat, relax, and spend time chatting with friends, I'm flying solo, which means ALL I will do is watch and play with Rowan. And I can do that in my air-conditioned house.

Letting go of Aimee... Literally

It's October 25, 2003. I am pulling into a Park-n-Ride in Kirkland, WA, meeting a group of people who are planning on hking to the top of Mt. Pilchuck. There's an old Fire Service fire lookout tower at the top, and it's said to provide amazing views of the landscape for many miles in every direction.

As I find a parking space, I spy a very cute girl getting some things out of the trunk of her car. My hope that she's going on this hike is answered, and shortly thereafter I meet Aimee Richmond.

Through some clever manuevering, I manage to make sure we're in the same carpool, and I sit next to her in the backseat, attempting to get to know her. She's friendly, though maybe slightly guarded. During the hike, I stay with her, chatting with her as the day goes on. At the top, there are indeed gorgeous views, and I take a number of photos. But my attention never wanders far from this girl I've met.

Within eight days, I take her on our first date. Within a few months, I know I love her, and I tell her so. Within two and half years, I marry her, and I say these words:
"Til death do us part."
We "parted" on December 18, 2011.

A photo of Mt. Rainier I took from Mt.
Pilchuck I took on 10/23/2003. I didn't
feel like I knew Aimee well enough to
take a picture of her that day, but I
wish I had.

The second part of that "parting" will come this Otober 25, the ninth anniversary of the day we met. I plan to hike Mt. Pilchuck once more, and scatter Aimee's ashes there amongst the beautiful mountains that she loved so much.

Her wishes actually spelled out that she wanted her ashes scattered at the ocean. But she loved the mountains, and as Donna ponted out, she didn't know whe she wrote that that she was going to die in the ocean. Scattering them on the mountain that brought us together just seemed appropriate.

Although this has been my plan since shortly after Aimee's death, the thought of actually 'letting go' of Aimee is tough. During separate conversations with both Donna and Justin, we all expressed that there is something 'final' about that act, even though obviously Aimee's death was pretty final on December 18.

In my mind's eye, I've tried to imagine the actual act of scattering what's left of Aimee's physical body. It's surreal and heartbreaking at the same time.

A number of years ago, I went skydiving, despite a very keen fear of heights. At the moment of truth, I was terrified, and I had no idea how I was going to make myself actually jump out of that plane some 13,000 feet above the ground. Yet I did it. I sense that this experience will be much the same in that regard. I have no idea how I will make myself actually empty that box of ashes on top of that mountain.

But somehow, I will do it. I will let go of Aimee.

The calm between two storms

I'm in a period of relative calm right now. In fact, I feel almost happy.

It hit the weekend of the six month mark since Aimee's death, and it hit so suddenly I almost felt a physical change. I mean, I actually felt the sadness, like a weight, get dramatically less. And it's stayed that way ever since. At first I felt like I'd turned a corner, and that maybe I was in a new stage of recovery from the loss.

I feel better when it's sunny. What'll happen
this winter?

But maybe it's just a vacation.

In April and into early May, I faced a gauntlet of tough dates. Follow that through to the six month mark, and it was a hard road to walk. Then, with the passing of that marker and the beginning of summer (I always feel better when it's sunny), I suddenly felt better. But I don't think it's going to last.

Just as I faced a gauntlet of dates this past spring, so I face another in late fall into early winter. It looks like this:

• October 25: The date Aimee and I met. It is on this date that I plan to scatter her ashes on Mt. Pilchuck, which we hiked on the day we met.
• October 31: We met up on a singles Halloween cruise, and it was that night that we really hit it off. I asked her out for our first date that night.
• November 2: Our first date.
• Thanksgiving: It's hard to quickly define this one, except to say that it has to do with Terry's (Aimee's dad) last weeks alive. (He died December 19, 2010.)
• December 18: The one-year anniversary of Aimee's death.
• December 20: Leaving Florida without Aimee.
• December 29: Aimee's memorial.

It's also possible that December 23 will be a tough day. Although Aimee and I never really marked that day as a couple, it is the anniversary of the day I proposed to her.

For now, I feel like I've been granted a bit of a reprieve. I still miss Aimee, and I still have tough moments, even times I still cry. And I'd even say those moments are still fairly frequent. But the overall feeling of grief is a lot less than it was.

I better enjoy it while it lasts.

Rowan is scared

As I write this, I am spending a few vacation days in Washington, DC with Aimee's side of the family: Donna, Justin, and Caroline. Rowan is here with us too. It's good to see Justin and Caroline, since I haven't seen them since late January. After Aimee's death they came back to the Seattle area with us and stayed for almost a month, which was a great support and comfort. Then they headed back home to DC.

I was sad to see them go back then, so that made this reunion all the better. And Rowan was excited to see her "Uncle J and Auntie Caroline" too.

Rowan with her uncle Justin
last December in Key West

But I was keenly aware of the circumstances of the last time we were all together. Apparently, so is Rowan.

Although she showed great excitement at first, she has been ill at ease ever since. It got worse as today wore on, almost to the point that she was being a bit irrational, and I'm ashamed to admit, almost a bit annoying to me. Finally, when I put her to bed, she was shaking and told me she as scared. She often does that when what she means is "I don't want to..." Such as, I don't want to go to sleep. But this did feel a little different.

"Rowan, what are you scared of?"

In a very small voice, "I don't know."

"Are you afraid something is going to happen to you?"

She shook her head.

I paused, and something occurred to me. So I asked quietly, "Are you afraid something is going to happen to me?"

Without a second's hesitation, she nodded.

And there you have it. Rowan remembers that the last time this group of people was together, she lost her mommy. Now she's afraid she will lose her daddy too. And you know what? I get it. I totally do. To a four year old, that cause-and-effect theory makes perfect sense.

We'll be here for a couple more days. I sincerely hope that over that time, we'll build up enough new memories with Aimee's family, especially with Justin and Caroline, that Rowan will feel more at ease when we're all together. As her mommy's family, they are her family too, and always will be, no matter what. I want her to be close to them, and through them get other stories and memories to keep her mommy alive to her.

And in the meantime, I'll pray to God that He keeps me safe, if for no other reason than for Rowan's sake.

If I got a surprise visit from Aimee today...

A few days ago I had this sudden vision out of nowhere: what would Aimee see if she suddenly dropped by for a visit? How much have things changed? And, how would it make her feel?

When we left for Florida (the last time Aimee saw this house):

• It was spotless;
• Rowan was three years old;
• She also still used a binky (pacifier);
• And she didn't wear glasses;
• I was 20 pounds lighter;
• The bedrooms still didn't have closet doors;
• There was a blue and white comforter on our bed;
• The bath towels and rug were red, and the shower curtain was white;
• Rowan slept in her old crib, which had been converted to a day bed;
• In addition to our dog Abbey, we also had one of Donna's dogs, Buddy;
• Her clothes hung in the closet and filled her dresser;
• Stacks of her books were in bookcases, and on the end table next to her side of the bed
• And finally, I wore a gold wedding band on the ring finger of my left hand.

But if she came by the house now:

Aimee didn't get to see Rowan move from
her crib to a big-girl bed

• It is chronically a mess;
• Rowan is four years old;
• She doesn't use a pacifier anymore;
• And she wears glasses;
• I'm 20 pounds heavier;
• The bedrooms all have closet doors, as does the basement closet;
• There's a dark red comforter on my bed;
• There are brown bath towels, bath mat, and shower curtain in the bathroom;
• Rowan sleeps in a new (pink) twin bed with new Rapunzel bedding;
• Buddy is at Donna's;
• Aimee's clothes are in large storage bins in the garage;
• Her books are either in the garage or have been given to Goodwill;
• And finally, my wedding band is on a chain around my neck.

There are probably even more changes as well. The point is, life has moved on. Some of it has been just normal 'life' stuff, like Rowan turning four, and getting glasses. Some of it is me intentionally changing things in order to move on, such as moving Aimee's things out and changing the bedding and towels.

As I quickly counted up all the changes, I realized that a lot of things are different now, and I suddenly felt guilty about it, like Aimee would feel like we've (ok, I've) been slowly but surely pushing her out. And I guess, honestly, in some ways I have been. I have to. But then I thought about Aimee and the kind of person she was. She'd want us to move on. She would hate to see us stuck in some weird time-stands-still place where we let as little change as possible to try and preserve the last remnants of her in our lives. Yes, we keep some reminders. There are photos of Aimee up all over the place - the kitchen, living room, basement, and of course in Rowan's room. But I want to have a balance of remembering Aimee and keeping her memory fresh and alive for Rowan, while also acknowledging that we need to get on with our lives, build new memories, write new chapters.

I miss Aimee. Some part of me always will. But we, Rowan and I at least, have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and live this new life. We didn't choose this, but it's the life we have now and we'll live it as best we can and ask God for strength when the days get tough. Things will change. We'll learn how to find our joy and our fun. We'll make new friends. And we will write those new chapters that someday we'll read to Aimee when we see her again.

Shannon's guest post 2/2: How my life has changed

Yesterday's and today's posts are from my sister Shannon. In this post, she shares how her life has changed as a result of Aimee's death. Here is a link to yesterday's post.

THE EFFECTS

Dreams died that day: not just my brother’s dreams of his future with his beautiful wife, but my dreams that people do actually live happily ever after. My marriage of 15 years ended approximately 3 years ago. I look around me and watch marriages fall apart every day, and 3/4 the people I know that are still married have not divorced simply because they don’t want to lose their husbands income, or pay their wife child support. Or even more important reasons, such as having someone to mow the lawn or take out the trash. This makes me sick to my stomach. Patrick and Aimee gave me hope - that tiny glimmer of hope that people can marry and make it work, be happy, be best friends, be partners and love each other. They were such and amazing example of a true biblical marriage. Words cannot describe the happiness I felt for my brother every time I saw them together. Aimee put a sparkle in his eye that was never there before. And then it ended in an instant. They did it right and it still ended.

My sister Shannon

This left me with little hope.

Then the anger came, a lot of anger at God. I yelled and screamed at Him. How could you let this happen?!?!? Aimee was an amazing person who touched everyone around her with her loving, generous, and supportive spirit. Why not take someone else?? Even me??? She was a way better person that me!! Please God give her back and take me. I prayed that so many times knowing full well that God does not do such things. But I prayed it…and I meant it. More anger: ”God, how could you have done this to my brother?!?!? He has had so many struggles, so much heartbreak. And he did this marriage thing the right way: didn't rush in, waited until he found the one, got married, had a child. THIS IS SO UNFAIR!!” ran through my mind hundreds if not thousands of times. Which is ridiculous of course. Life isn’t fair, and no one deserves this, and why not her?

Then came Aimee's memorial. I had never been to one, and had never planned on going to one. I wanted to remember people being alive not them being dead. What’s the point? I went anyway, though not sure why. Just did. And I heard something there that changed my life:

One of Aimee’s friends who spoke at the memorial said something to the effect that Aimee never told other people how to live their lives, but she lived her life as an example. I looked around and saw the amount of people in the room, the amount of people that she had affected in such a positive way. There were a lot.

So many people feel that success is defined by the things you earn. After that day, success was redefined for me. I now believe that success is defined by the number of people that you positively affect in your life. By that measure, Aimee was EXTREMELY successful. I decided that I wanted to be successful “Aimee style”.

I was somewhat Aimee’s opposite by nature: forceful, intense, inpatient, tough, rushed. Not all of the time, but a lot of the time - too much of the time. That all changed that day. Not in a New York minute, but I realized I wanted to be different, to follow the example set by Aimee. I may not be all that I need to be, but thanks to her loving example I am a much better person than I used to be.

Very few people inspire me. My brother inspires me - what an amazing man of God. What an amazing father. The way he has handled this has been such a source of inspiration for me as well as thousands of others. I believe the ability to be open and honest with your feeling is a gift that is possessed by few, and practiced by even fewer. This blog has touched so many, including myself. Reading his blog and seeing his faith in God even through this unimaginable tragedy has strengthened my own faith. His unwavering faith in God has showed me what that word really means. These words he said to me one night very soon after Aimee’s death stick in my head: “The bible says that all things work together for the good….it doesn’t say my good.”

With those words in mind, I am going to list the good things that have come out of my life through dealing with Aimee’s death.

1.       This has changed the core of my goals in life. I now focus on doing as much to positively impact others as possible. Just like Aimee did.

2.       I have slowed down. I try to never say to my children “I'm too busy right now”. It's reminded me to enjoy every minute to give them all of the love that I can while we are all still here.

3.       I really now realize that any one of us could be gone, at any minute. The song “If today was your last day” sticks in my head. So I try never to put off until tomorrow what is important today. Like hugging my kids, or telling someone how much they mean to me. You never know which minute will be your last.

4.       I have stopped putting off things that I want to do. I went to Hawaii last month, and I'm going again next month. Before I would always say, ”next year, next week, next month.” Now, I just do it. Who knows if “next year, next week, next month, or tomorrow” will come? Today is a day that we will never have again. Don’t waste it.

5.       My brother and I are a lot closer than we were prior to Aimee’s death and I have really gotten to see what an incredible man he really is. For that I am very grateful.

6.       I spend a lot more time with my niece. For those who don’t know, my brother and I live about 3 hours apart. Doesn’t seem like far but with two busy schedules it might as well be across three states. Since Aimee’s death, I have made a point to go visit Rowan more often. And what a blessing that child is. She makes me grin ear to ear every time I see her. She is just like her mother.

7.       Watching my brother deal with all of this has let me know that terrible things can happen and you can and will survive. And seeing what an incredible man and father he is gives me that little hope that there may be a few good men left out there.

8.      Believing in the goodness of people is very hard sometimes. When I saw that amount of love and support shown to my brother and others during this time of need I was astonished at the amount of good in people. For a while at least, it took away the lenses of my own bad experiences with people and reminded me that good people, with good hearts, still exist. Quite a few of them =)

9.       I have seen this blog, where my brother shares his heart and his struggles, help so many people through their pain. It touches people on a very personal level, and makes them feel like someone, somewhere, can relate to their pain.

The thing is, as much as this has affected my life for the better, I would give it all back. I wish I could take away my brother's and my niece's pain and to see that sparkle in his eye…that sparkle that said “Aimee”.