The Last Time I Saw You

Dear Ryan -

I'll never forget the very last time I saw you. It was my girls’ first day of school, and after I picked them up, I took them to Sonic to get a slush. As we were leaving the driveway, I was handing back the slushes and the straws to the girls, and I looked up and saw you and dad driving by in front of us, driving in the truck heading out of town to go to work. You drove by so fast I don't even know that I got my hand up to wave to smile, to acknowledge that we saw you. We said there was Ryan!

Before that, the time I saw you last … we actually saw you in person the day we were saying goodbye to Lindy and family. You got up early…well, early for you. You were holding a Rockstar drink in your hand. You were out there with the family in the living room and then proceeded to go out front in the front yard with us, to give hugs and say our goodbyes for the next few months as the McLeods got ready to drive to Texas. I remember thinking that I was so glad you got up to do that.  It meant a lot that you would come out and say goodbye.

And before THAT, the last time I saw you was at Lindy’s house as we were loading her moving truck and getting her ready to move. You spent several days there helping pack up the truck. You and dad very much single-handedly got the entire house loaded. I remember being impressed that you were there and that you were so willing to help and not ever complain. You seemed so happy just to be there and to be part of the process. You were such an important part of that house getting loaded up. It was fun to just stand around between packing and talk with you and Lindy and Kristy and myself. I remember laughing about random things. Kristy had some crazy random facts to talk about, and we all got some good laughs. We talked about so many things…how things were going with Camille, talked about our favorite Starbucks drink at the time. Which, by the way, you and I had the same favorite one…the Caramel Crunch Frappucino.  You even went and got me one. I remember all of us holding our arms next to each other laughing about who had mom’s skin and who had dad’s. When you lifted your shirt sleeve to show your arms, I remember thinking that I had never realized, until then, that your shoulders were just like mine all covered in freckles. I remember thinking how fun it was to really laugh and joke and talk as a bunch of adults rather than these huge age-gaps between us. It just seemed like the time was growing smaller between us. We even laughed when I said something about me being 36 and you being 22 and how different that felt now compared to 10 years ago.

The time before that, I remember, was on mom's birthday. It was a good day. We all went to Sal’s with the kids and mom and dad and we had a big dinner. Then, we came back to the house and we watch the grandkids put on a huge production for mom. I sat by you in the entryway, and we all relaxed and enjoyed the time together. I was really excited because, when I needed help setting up the TV and the sound system, you got up and ran to your room, got the sound equipment and helped me hook it up so we could listen to the performance music over the TV speaker. I remember thinking that was really kind of you. And you were just a little bit more selfless, as it tends to happen when you reach your mid-20s.

I guess what I'm saying is this whole summer was filled with experiences that I enjoyed and moments I remember talking to you and thinking “this is kind of fun”. In fact we had a conversation about my job and my blind clients where we discovered that you knew Kevin McGuire’s son… and I work with Kevin McGuire. I remember you asking me lots of questions about my job and I thought that it was really cool that you were interested in what I was doing.

But the time that I really last saw your body is a time that I wish didn't exist. It was after hearing the horrific news, which my brain couldn't and still can't wrap around. The week following was painful, confusing, and a nightmare. I had the opportunity to write your obituary, to create your program, and to get all the pictures arranged for the funeral and the memorial. It was definitely one of the hardest things that I have ever done. But at the same time, it was almost sacred. I got to review pictures of your entire life, reflect back on memories, and most especially I was thankful for the inspiration that I have had over the years to take pictures. I was so thankful that I was able to take pictures of you even during times and you didn't want me to, or even during the years when you weren't around very much. We didn't feel that we were lacking pictures of you as an adult. That day that I saw your body last was actually an accidental thing. I took all the pictures, the DVD, the music…everything that I needed to take to the funeral home the night before the funeral. I got there just as she was closing the funeral home. I walked in a little frantically and tried to set things up as fast as I could. I was waiting for Dad, Lindy and Kristy to arrive. And as I was setting things up, the funeral director mentioned to me that your body was in the chapel already. My heart stopped. I glanced my head into the chapel from the very back door. And in the front room I could see your casket. My heart stopped again. I was so caught off guard and immediately a wave of tears ran down my face. The sobs couldn't stop. When I looked back up again, and I looked toward the casket…I could see your forehead and your nose peering above the edge. It was the strangest feeling I've probably ever had. To know that you were in there…but not really there. I hadn't planned on looking into the casket or coming to the viewing because I didn't want that to be my last memory of you. I didn't feel that I needed that foreclosure like some people do.

As much as I had planned to not view your body, I had an overwhelming feeling that I couldn't have you right there and not see you…and not visit your body. It almost felt like a disservice to you. I made the decision that I was going to walk up to your body and say my goodbyes. If I like the right timing because nobody else was around, and I didn't have to worry about how I felt. Just then, Carly, Lindy and Dad arrived. I told them your body was in the chapel…and Lindy and Carly walked in with me. I didn't mind that we were all together because I knew we were feeling the same things. It was quiet, hard and soul wrenching. It was not easy to see you like that… and not natural. To see your body perfect and whole laying in a casket was something that my mortal mind could absolutely not wrap around. It was surreal and it was something that I could look at for the rest of my life and still never fully comprehend. At first it felt awkward, and I felt angry as I looked at your body so perfect and whole. I felt angry that your body didn't work anymore. And that you left us here with so many questions. I felt angry that the accident took your life, and that we didn’t have time to say goodbye. I felt angry at the life that I knew was ahead of you that I was so excited to see unfold. But after a few minutes of those feelings…another feeling came. It was more peaceful. Carly and Lindy and I talked about where your spirit is now. We talked about so many different things and the more that I stood there, the more that my spirit told my mind that that wasn't you. I didn't feel as angry anymore and I almost felt peaceful…like I didn't want to leave. To this day, I still can't tell if I'm glad that I visited your body or if I wish I hadn’t. I don't think it would have been better or worse either way. I think it was meant to be, and I'm thankful for the way that it happened.

It's been five weeks and I'm finally getting the image a little bit more out of my head. I don't want that to be the last image of you in my mind. I think it was a shocking image of you and therefore it's harder to get out.

When I visit mom and dad at the house I feel so many different feelings. Sometimes, I feel comfort because I'm with people who understand and share some of the same pain and confusion. Other times it makes it all too real. I see your door closed, I see the pain in mom and dad's faces, I see how frail they seem still. I see Kristy, and I feel like I'm looking at you. Which is comforting, and very hard at same time. Somehow she looks more alone. Somehow, she looks like there's part of her missing. And I know it's because there is. Just yesterday as I picked up the girls from mom and dad’s we talked a little bit about everything. And I just kept saying…I wonder if somehow, some way, will it ever feel real? Is it supposed to feel real? I don't know. I don't think there's a right or wrong answer to any of this. I just know it's confusing. I think if confusing would really be the main word.

I hope that someday, somehow…we understand. For now, please just know that we love you and deeply miss you.

Love, Jamie

Oct 2013