The Loss Experience...Twenty Years Later

Twenty years ago, true loss became a real experience and a best friend became a priceless memory. At 8:08 pm on February 25^th, 1996, Jennifer Diane Dowell, left her family and her Lone Oak High School crowd of friends behind to gain her angel wings…fashionable ones, I feel most certain.  Though no two circumstances and no two lives are ever going to be quite the same, there are pieces of the loss experience that friends might find to be comfortingly similar. I was once a fifteen-year-old sophomore in high school just trying to figure out how to move forward when so much of life as I knew it was gone.  As a teacher now working with students and families in a world that seems to be getting increasingly more difficult, these are just some takeaways from 1996 that I think still apply today.

To Mason’s Best Friends…

Over the next few days,

Pay attention to how you treat one another….memorize your thoughts and actions if you must. In those days leading up to and following Jennifer’s death, we put the petty things aside and we cared about what was most important…each other.  I can remember sitting in the living room floor at Kevin McCallon’s house (pastor at FBC at the time), while he questioned us – friends who knew her best - about memories and quirky characteristics of Jennifer that he could use for the service. There was nothing that anyone could say in that moment that would be judged.  There was laughter through tears (Truvy Jones may have been onto something there, Steel Magnolias fans.), there were hugs and genuine affirmations of human existence. There was one hundred percent support for friends and unconditional acceptance of the people that we each were. But you know what? Those days passed us by. High school marched on. There was college, and then that next step called adulthood that most of us are still trying to understand. Sadly, some old habits became new again. There was gossip. There were things said to truly lovely, good people that should have never been said at all. Some of the petty reared its ugly face again. I’d love to say that was “them” who did that, but no….that was me. Memorize this moment and the genuine care that you have for the friends around you, and don’t waste the years that are still stretched out before you and your support system.

Pay attention to her parents. As teens, we were probably more resilient than I even realized at the time, but, oh…her parents. I remember wondering if I would ever run into Larry and Susan and feel like they were back to themselves again. For a while, my friends and I still went to their house like we did before she was gone. I think we thought we were helping them. I think they thought they were helping us. I think we were both right. They got the chance to go from that parent role with so much responsibility to almost grandparent-like figures who just wanted to spoil us and hear about the details of daily life at LOHS. There was a bit of her in us that I believe they wanted to see, but I think knowing that they were so concerned with our lives also gave us the permission we needed for them to go on.

Pay attention to the things that bring you the best and happiest memories of your friend. In my house, though clothes and furniture and knick-knacks have come and gone, there is still – twenty years later – a white box tied up with a purple ribbon sitting on a shelf to remind me that subtle, insignificant moments can quickly become lifetime treasures. In that box are the Christmas and birthday gifts Jennifer gave me, the notes we wrote to each other when we were supposed to be paying attention in class (We were decorative note writers, but I suppose you can screen shot those texts :) ) , and pictures of some of our best times together. I’ve already seen you guys sharing photos and retweeting Mason’s wisdom from days and months ago. Twenty years from now, I promise those fun memories will still be sacred to you…keep them.

Pay attention to how you live your life.  Don’t wait for another tragedy to remind you that you need to really live it! Take time to grieve, but then realize that it is ok for you to talk about something else at lunch. It is ok for you to laugh when every part of you feels like something about that would simply be wrong to ever do again. It is ok to find happy once more. Creating new memories is sometimes the best thing you can do to keep the old ones in tact. Take chances….I’m still learning this one, too. Do things that scare you. Look forward to simple things as if they are big things. Don’t get so caught up in the stress to impress that you lose sight of the awesome being that God created you to be.  Surround yourself with good people…it turns out, you will need them on your very best days, too. Get away for a bit from social media, look up for a while, and SEE the world around you. It’s a lot more beautiful...and adventurous...and fun...than those apps! Get to know your family. Branch out beyond your social circle, and make friends with someone who is completely unlike you. Oh, and go easy on your parents. They are learning this as they go.You will look back one day and realize that you have grown and matured but a little part of you will always be the exact person that you are as a high school student today. Work on that girl (or guy) now...don't wait until she's older.

I am no counselor. No advice expert. The large quantities of puppy photos that you'll find taking up space on my Facebook account are evidence that I am cleeeearly no pro at life or relationships. However, I realized at a pretty young age that some experiences quickly travel to the past, while others become a permanent part of your life's future. This was one of those for me. Twenty years from now, you will likely see that this experience has become that for you as well. May you honor your friend's life and the One who created it in the ways in which you treat people and the experiences you chase in your next twenty years.

To the Parents of Students Who are Hurting….

You know who you are. You are the ones who stayed awake last night wondering what your next step should be...agonizing that this was not covered in What to Expect When You're Expecting. Before you say, “Waaaaaait a minute. You aren’t even a mom,” just hear my inexperienced thoughts out. I think the good Lord knew that my heart might not be able to handle this parenting thing that you all are tackling in the face of so much adversity in our modern world...so he gave me a puppy instead. I stand in awe of the task that lies ahead of you. Teaching preteens in a public school has become more challenging with each passing year, as their naivety and innocence is fleeting. I can only imagine how life might feel if I was living with these people for whom I already feel so responsible. I hear your children discuss the things they see and hear on a daily basis on social media sites, the twenty-four hour a day, never-pausing aspect of life and parenting that my own parents are most assuredly thankful didn't exist twenty years ago. I sit at lunch everyday at work and listen to parents talk about the challenge of their roles. With nerves they repeat the phrase, “Sometimes I just don’t know….” Looking back, I think sometimes my own parents probably had those same conversations and they just. didn’t. know. 

       I could still take you in my mind to the exact spot in the hospital waiting room where my mom stood the night we had to say goodbye to Jennifer. She gave me a hug and she consoled, but looking back, I realize that her face was clearly screaming, “Oh, sweet Lord, what do we do now?” When I got home that night, I didn’t jump on social media to find solace or to express any emotion, no matter how strong. I simply sat in the blue recliner in our living room and picked at the spot where an upholstery button once held captive the chair stuffing, completely unsure of what or how to feel. My mom took action...perhaps the only action she knew to take in that moment as she fixed me a sandwich that she knew I wouldn’t even eat. She asked if I wanted to watch television or go to bed or stay home from school the next day or show up so I could see my friends. Those questions she used to guide me to grieve in my own way spoke volumes about how she knew to care for that ever so independent, yet quietly at a loss,  youngest girl of hers. 

     We went through days of nothing being the same much like the ones your children are facing now. My parents asked questions and they gave support, but they also saw value in the sharing I sometimes reserved for my friends. They were winging it, y’all. If I had to guess about it now, I’d say all the other parents of all my other friends were winging it, too. We knew that they cared, we knew that normalcy would take place in our homes before it was given the chance to take place at school and in social settings again, and - twenty years later - I am so, so thankful for that. 

       They spent time and money so that we could show Jennifer's family that we empathized and sympathized with them. Beyond that, I remember Mom asking on more than one occasion how another friend of mine was dealing with the loss - my oldest and dearest friend and Jennifer's neighbor, Shannon - the one we knew was even closer to Jennifer and her family than me. While we may never master the compassion our parents had in those days, those memorable and selfless gestures would later serve as reminders of how to empathize with people in our futures. We were the centers of our parents' worlds, but they stretched our views to see beyond ourselves. That was key.  Just let your kids know that you care about them AND their friends - I think that part is so important - at this very moment and in the moments that will slowly fade back to normal. Confess that you are taking the days the best you know how, then take a breath, mamas and daddies…..you are doing ok.  No...against all challenges and unknowns, you are doing AMAZING work.

Fine and Dandy and Sweet as Candy

Geriatrics say the darndest things! One of them we know probably knew Papa better than anyone. Last night on a little roadtrip to Clarksville, I asked Papa’s bride of 67 years if she knew what holiday was coming up next month in February. Though her memory and her medicine failed her as she tried to answer so many other questions…that one she knew. “Valentine’s Day,” she answered with confidence in her voice.

Before I could even finish the next question, “Who is your Valentine?” she blurted, “Papa.”

Now before you get all warm and fuzzy, I should tell you her response to my next little inquisition. “Granny, how did you know that Papa was the one you wanted to marry?”

Her eyes got as big as the washers in Papa’s homemade yard game as she exclaimed, “I don’t know! I didn’t! That might have been a mistake!” Granny clearly doesn’t understand the “LOL” of language today, but she sure had me “laughing out loud” 67 years later with that one!

We started talking about Valentine’s Day and the gifts they used to give each other. She said he liked candy…ANY kind of candy. Perhaps that is why his trademark reply became, “FINE AND DANDY AND SWEET AS CANDY,” whenever he was asked how he was doing. She repeated that phrase a couple times, and then she ever so seriously reported that she believes he ate an awful lot of it.

“So, he had quite a sweet tooth, huh, Granny? Did he ever sneak any sweets?”

“Yes! Pecan Pie!”

“How did you know?”

“Because pieces would be missing!” She laughed a little at that one herself.  To this day, she probably doesn’t know about the snacks he hid for himself in the garage or under the seat of the car. If anyone here today is hungry for a peanut butter cracker or a 7-Up, I think some of us might know where we can find one.

“Granny, what was the BEST gift Papa ever gave you?”

“My wedding ring, I guess.” That was when I struck geriatric conversational gold! She could recall no detail about that wedding other than the fact that it was “just a little simple wedding.”

            That little simple wedding she mentioned soon lent itself to a simple country life. Papa was a proud man who believed in dressing up for company. He valued shiny shoes and even shinier cars. When left to his ordinary days that became his ordinary months and years, though, he filled them with simple little things.

“Granny, what were some of the most fun things you remember you and Papa doing?”

She couldn’t mention a fabulous vacation…there were none. No extravagant adventures.  No expensive dates on the town. Her eyes lit up, though, as she said, ”We picnicked in the yard.”

“What else?”

“We worked in the garden.”  From there we recalled each tomato and potato and peanut plant. She chuckled again telling me how he would try to dig up those peanuts with a shovel, and I think there was a vivid picture memory in her mind as she did….probably of her staring out the back kitchen window at him and laughing at his attempts.

            “What’s the secret to staying married for 67 years?”

            “I don’t know. Just lucky I guess. We spent a lot of time together.”

            “Did Papa ever do anything to make you mad?”

            “Why yes!”

            “Like what?”

           

            “I don’t know. I can’t remember that now.”  Hmmm…perhaps that is the secret she couldn’t seem to recall.

From every life and every lifestyle there is a bit of a legacy to be treasured. So, as we – his daughter, his granddaughters, his family, his friends, his neighbors – say goodbye to Dad…Papa….Shep….I say we do the things that he never did in his life. Let’s travel the world, take vacations, and go on adventures. Let’s treat ourselves on occasion to exquisite experiences just because we can.

But…along the way, let’s have a picnic in the yard, eat strawberry ice cream, and drink 7-Up. Let’s pitch washers with the family on a summer afternoon until the plink of the metal against the board brings the neighbors out to visit, too. Let’s compete with ourselves to outdo last year’s garden, and load up everyone we know with a sack of peppers and tomatoes.  Let’s appreciate the flowers that pop up through the cracks of the steps by the garage. Let’s talk about our work with pride, and keep up with the latest changes to it even years after we retire. Let’s throw on a cap and go on afternoon drives just to stop by and see how people are doing. Let's take a brisk walk through the neighborhood or do a few laps around the church. Let’s wash the car again…even if it is sparkling clean before we get started.  Let’s always ask how many cylinders are in the new and fancy cars we see. Let’s meticulously paint a swing the perfect shades of red, white, and blue. Let’s make a scarecrow for the garden, and then steal his straw hat on occasion. Let’s hang giant, retro, colored Christmas lights along the rails and window in December. Let’s find a favorite color – his was red – and wear it whenever we can. Let’s sneak something sweet when we know someone else is paying attention…just for spite. Let’s read the paper from cover to cover and then take it across the street with a hot meal to the mother-in-law that so willingly helped raise that daughter of ours (that daughter that Granny currently remembers as being a loud little baby, but one that was smart…so smart in school). And then let’s remember that all those very simple things really could – especially for a man like Papa – add up to a whole life of happy.  

“Granny, did Mama Gertie like Papa when you told her you wanted to marry him?”

Her response? “Well, I think so. Mama never complained about him.” She paused and focused on that thought longer than she does most these days. Then she said,  “Yeah…I think she liked him.”