Corn

 I'm getting ready to flash freeze some broccoli and guess what I thought of? Late summer 2015, we had some extra fresh corn we couldn't eat. I shaved it off the cob, and froze several bags of it. Pat never liked frozen corn, but Adam did. 

On the third to last time I saw him, sometime in October, I prepared steaks (and A1, which I kept around for almost a decade) and that frozen corn. I think he liked it but that part is not clear. 

We engaged in a way that was not typical. Adam and I got through a difficult conversation and ended with a hug. That was one of a few signs that little boy I loved for almost 4 years before anyone else came into the picture, was connected to me. Thank God for that. 

Pat and I are reminiscing about all the good all times. It's good. 

All Saints and All Souls Day

Today is as the title indicates. I went to the cemetery, and it was cloudy and gloomy out. I feel like that is November to a T. I had a nice walk about anyway. Tomorrow is Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). I will bring my ofrenda, or not. We'll see. 

I've been running around all day, but sat to watch a football game with my 5th grade teacher. She pretty much talked the whole time, and wasn't familiar with the Mute button, so there was hearing problems and yelling above the TV. I enjoyed it despite how that just sounded. She's a wonderful person who I have really fond memories of. It's cool to befriend your teacher in our later years. I know she appreciates that I spend time with her and that feeds my soul.

So, I sat down to my laptop at 3:45ish, and I get a pop-up picture of Adam looking right at the camera, close up. I clicked on it and "One Drive" made a 3 picture video of a day I spent with Adam in Springfield. If I had a half a brain, or knew how to use AI, I would include it right here. The one of us together in his apartment we both look happy (I don't know who took the picture, probably Ashleigh). The music was sweet and I watched it a half dozen times. I didn't all out cry, but I wondered why he had to go. Where he would be today if he stayed. How it's not fair. Today is also his father's birthday. He won't answer any outreach I make. 

This isn't the video, but is the picture of us.

2025

 2025 has been a blur, a frenetic blur, but a good blur. It's definitely the year of AI. I have used AI barely,  and I have to admit it did a fine job of improving my writing. I just don't care to sound not like me, too perfect. 

This year I saw Adam's roommate Ashleigh get married. I got a few notes from friends of Adam like this:

      I've never seen a face like yours heard a laugh like yours or seen a smile so overwhelmingly         contagious. but i never need to again- because you are a once in a lifetime person, that this         world will mourn forever. love and miss you, adam ♥️

This year is hitting different. Fall of 2025 makes 10 years of "last times." Last time I saw Adam, hugged/talked to/made a sandwich for/gave a gift to/argued with for 10 years. He has missed so much, not the least of which being his own personal growth. I like to think he is free of turmoil and is living his best life out there. No need to worry about growth, because regardless of what happens, the earth-bound troubles will be gone. I'm pretty sure of that. 

Whenever I think about giving up organizing the local Out of the Darkness Walk, in pops, "It's the least I can do to honor Adam's incredible life." 

New Year, New Me

 Not really, I'm just kidding. I'm trying to read 50 books this year, so if I'm not blogging that's what I'm doing. 

Here's to 2025!

A1

 Sometimes when I'm working or talking with someone more newly bereaved than me, I'm afraid I come off as callous or unfeeling when I don't cry or show emotion. I'm typically not that emotional anyway, but they may not know that. 

They don't know the silent ways I think about and remember Adam everyday. They don't know I had a bottle of  A1 sauce in my refrigerator for 8 years that was last used by Adam. It finally got tossed sometime this past year. I wear his McCoy jersey on game day. They don't know the watch on my left wrist was worn by Adam in our last family picture. It is on its second wristband and 3rd or so battery and still working great. He had good taste in the material things :) I give his headstone a pat each time I walk through the cemetery, at least weekly, and I walk 27 laps at the Y.  

I feel lucky that I was able to make all the decisions about his memorial service, every song and speaker, the time and place. I produced the slide show which kept me occupied the first few days. I have a few regrets, one being that we didn't invite his friends from Springfield back to our house after the service. I console myself with the belief they needed their own time to be together and grieve in their own way (gathering at Rocky's Bar and Grill, somewhere they had shared past good times and apparently shots of Crown). I'm blessed to spend time with them each fall at the Springfield Out of the Darkness Walk. 

We're all on our own journey and deep down I don't think I am being judged for my actions, reactions, and outward appearance in the wake of losing Adam. Everyone seems to have given me grace, and I am just glad that I am someone people feel they can talk to in their deepest sorrow. That alone is a great honor. 

Skies

 I am thankful to have been out before sunrise today and looked up to see a clear sky. The Little Dipper was right there. Sometimes I have trouble finding it. I looked for the Big Dipper, but couldn't find it. I walked a bit further, looked up, and there it was, the Big Dipper. Next time I gazed skyward, all clouds. Finally daybreak. Too many buildings and trees to see the sun, but I know it is there. Just like everyday. 

Adam, I love you clear past the twinkle stars. You inspire and guide me everyday.

May the Fourth

 

Yesterday brought this mama's heart joy. You see, we were invited to the wedding of a friend of Adam's from college, Matt. It was a Star Wars theme, though not over the top in this regard. Pat agreed to accompany me and meet most of Adam's college friends for the first time. I was a little nervous knowing there was a lot of built in unstructured time where we would need to socialize. I wasn't sure how much we would have to talk about, but turns out we had a wonderful time. There were around 50 people there and that gave us an opportunity to talk to everyone in a leisurely way. 

If I said I didn't know any of these friends before Adam's death it wouldn't be an understatement. We have gotten to know each other over the course of eight years of Out of the Darkness Walks in Springfield where we have fellowshipped over a meal following the afternoon Walk. In the picture above, front row, we have Jon, me, Matt's aunt Jayne, Sarah, Zach, and Sam. The back row is Tae, Brent and groom Matt.

Everyone was so open and friendly and willing to talk about Adam. We also caught up on their personal lives, and it was just easy and comfortable. Perhaps most impressive was Matt's family, who all personally talked to me about their connection to Adam and suicide. His parents are just the warmest, most genuine people. Matt privately told me that had Adam been here, he would have been his best man. 

To know Adam's impact on their lives, and the depth they have brought to my life, gives me incredible peace. The photo above is one of the University of Illinois Springfield gang, who have maintained strong bonds for many, many years. They insisted, and I mean insisted that I be in the UIS pictures to represent Adam. Of course, I would give anything for him to have had this moment, but sometimes life doesn't work that way. 

I am grateful and filled with love clear past the twinkle stars today. I hope my best boy would be proud of me as I am of him. 

Poem

 

The siblings visited the labyinth 9/23/24. It was chilly but we were prepared. Chris and I may not have been prepared for the poem that Betsy shared. Words just ooze out of her. We all are in awe of her insights and ways she expresses herself. She pushes through the moments to let her emotions be known. She makes us feel all the feels. This kate coverdale maybe should have been a published poet (she actually is), but we are so lucky we are the recipients of her deeply felt beliefs, innermost feelings, and healing energy.

For Adam, who taught me the endless possibility of love

I wish I’d known.

I wish I’d taken your pain, crumpled it up and held it in my heart, for you,

Returning it in torn little bits, instead of that long sheet of grief.

Because there is pain in this life, immoveable things we must all move through.

They say if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I say if wishes were horses, I’d ride, by your side, through that storm,

Until we found a place where the clouds part ever so much

To allow that small break through which that single exquisite beam

Renders nearly the touch of God.

No matter if I believe or you believe, but maybe that warm touch,

Would have been enough to light another day.

I wish I could gather you in my arms as when you were a baby, rocking you for a hundred hours or

more, walking a hundred miles or more.

I’d hold your pain, just as I once held you,

Until you slept that deep sleep of a baby’s innocent slumber,

To wake for one more day,

A day in which you could impossibly move through that immoveable thing.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

Every day, I wish.

kate coverdale, Mar 17, 2024

Tragic

 Once I had the house to myself I put on "Timeless Love Songs," shaved my legs, and took a shower. In the course of this simple routine, I heard "Your Song," the song Adam's dad played with my son, Eli and his wife, Hannah on the night before his memorial service. Next I heard "I Will Always Love You," Adam's most hated song of 1992, or maybe he just hated me singing along on the chorus. Well, I let out some wailing sounds, the kind that comes from the base of your soul. The sound you make when you lose a child. I was able to belt out some of the lyrics in the bathroom, where my voice always sounds better (if only to myself). 

You see, there was a terrible school bus accident this week. Two adults, two 3 year olds, and a 5 year old were killed in a small town near me. What those parents are going through is unimaginable. My heart hurts for them. My friend who lost her adult son in 2020 is on the crew of the high school musical in that small town. I should know better than to ask what they need. Of course, she said she couldn't think of anything. 

So I put on my big girl pants (and Adam's black hoodie) and baked some brownies to take when we go to the play tonight. Made sure I have cash in my wallet in case they take a donation. And Kleenex. I hate crying in front of people. 

Time out for a breakdown to Tracy Chapman's "Baby Can I Hold You Tonight," my song for the not yet born, Adam Tuttle, from the 1988 debut CD that I listened to repeatedly. 

If you've never heard "This Year's Love" by David Gray, it's a beautiful, mournful song. It will get you feeling some type of way. I'm feeling all the feels today. 

I'll leave you with these pics of my boys. 

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

By Emily Dickinson 

The French Riviera

 I did a pretty poor job (no job) of blogging (bragging?) about my recent Mediterranean cruise. For some reason, I was thinking about the day we had in Nice, France, on April 22, 2023. Our ship docked in Villefranche-sur-Mer, on the French Riviera, where many celebrities summer, and home to Monaco, the Cannes film festival, and Monte Carlo. There were excursions to these locales, but we didn't have an excursion planned so we 'winged it.' We did a little research, and I was keen to get to the roof top of Museum of Modern Art and Contemporary Art in Nice, for "the best views in the city." 

We hopped right off the ship, no tendering needed, and explored the welcoming area of the port before boarding a Hop On Hop Off bus to Nice. Good luck figuring out how to get a ticket. 

We drove past the beautiful Promenade along the water, before the bus turned onto a city street and abruptly stopped. No explanation was given, but everyone had to get off. Since I had a destination and tourist map in hand, we took off on foot, and quickly found ourselves at the Promenade des Arts. We were seated at a street cafe looking around when we figured out the museum was just to the right of us. 

Sidewalk cafe with extremely slow service

Betsy taking pics in the Promenade des Arts while waiting for our food

MAMAC

The climb to the top of the museum was, interesting, we skipped looking at the most of the art, running from one escalator to another to stairs, to finally arriving on the roof. The building seemed pretty beat up and old. Not like an American museum. But the views from the roof did not disappoint! 

The curvy walkways and heights gave me chills. You can't really tell without the 360 degree panoramic how bizarre this space was. 

Pano- looks cooler on Facebook 360

Bird's eye view of Nice

Pano- you could literally step over this rail and jump. It freaked me out.

We somehow found our way back to a Hop On stop and toured back to the ship. I was beginning to feel woosy and became sick by the next day. 

Check My Judgment

 Wow, I just saw some Facebook drama on a community page, throwing around the "Karen" word. Can I first say, I'm so sorry to all the good Karens of the world? I know a few, no, I know many, and now they get a bum wrap for having been given a name that has become synonymous with white entitlement and privilege. 

Now to admit the hard part. I had judgmental thoughts about the post "Karyn" so rudely commented on. Luckily I think before I click, most of the time. 

This morning I woke up to a text message asking me to make a casserole for a family in need. Do I want to do it? Do I have time to do it? Not really, but guess what? Yesterday we smelled gas in the house and I called Ameren to check it out. Suffice it to say, we are safe and down $619 in our checking account. Probably half the families in our town couldn't have afforded the bill on the spot like that. They would be out of their home, probably have frozen water pipes, and who knows how they would scrape up that kind of money to fix the problem and have their gas turned back on? Did I mention the temperature was in the single digits?  

Not only did Ameren provide prompt service, our local heating company came out within an hour and spent nearly 4 hours repairing four gas leaks. We are truly blessed this was taken care of so promptly. The least I could do was pack him a warm dinner to go. 

I don't know what it's like to flee a domestic violence situation with multiple children, although I was technically homeless with a child once upon a time. I always knew I had family support, though I was loathe to ask for help. This "Susan" needs to check herself and make the casserole. 

Something for the New Year 2024

 Reflections of 2023

I left my job of almost 9 years and embarked on a new adventure with more hours, longer commute, and new technology challenges. One silver lining is viewing the stunning sunsets on my drive home. Dusk on the open prairie is unmatched. I do often think of Calvin sitting on the beach watching the same sun go down over the ocean. 

I started an Instagram series "Wednesdays in Oquawka" where I photograph interesting little gems in this Mississippi River town. I also dine with the local seniors occasionally and that has been a fun way to connect with the community I now serve. 

Betsy and I took a true dream vacation to the Mediterranean in April. 10 days and nights at sea from Venice to Barcelona, around the boot of Italy. Every day was a new port and exciting adventure. Honestly, my favorite part was sitting on our balcony after a tiring day, watching the other passengers board, and pulling out to sea with, again, gorgeous sunsets behind breathtaking shorelines, mountains and cliffs. 

 I joined a Book Club this fall, something I have always wanted to do, and like my mom, I am the "old lady" of the group. I see why she values this so much, getting to know some new faces and personalities, listening to how they speak and think about life. Excluding me and one other older woman, the average age is probably 40. 

As always, the Out of the Darkness Walks sustained my mission to honor and pay forward Adam's life, and I get much more in return than I give. 

Watching my kids succeed in the world has been my biggest pride and joy. When I have a down day, I think of them and their impact on the world, and I can't help but be happy. I am forever grateful they let me be part of their lives. 

Pat has been by my side almost 33 years. Through the occasional testiness, frequent snoring, and ups and downs of life, we have found a way to laugh and peacefully cohabitate and reach our goals together. 

 

The Art of Making Strawberries

 

I have been making Strawberries at Christmastime with my sister and mother as long as I can remember. This family tradition has an apprenticeship that I have brought my own children into. The shaping of the delicate strawberries is a fine art which is passed from one generation to another.

My mother presides over the whole affair, doling out the responsibilities each person is gradually afforded. The first job of a young Strawberry apprentice is grinding the nuts and coconut, or dying the almond sliver stems in green food coloring. Mixing the concoction is a more advanced position and one I was chastised for as recently as this year, for adding the ingredients in the wrong order. My mother claimed this affected the consistency and shaping ability of the batter. I strongly disagree, so do not be intimidated about trying this at home.

When the concoction is properly mixed, the apprentices sit at a table in assembly line fashion. An experienced (3-5 years) journeyman starts by rolling walnut sized balls between their hands and placing them on waxed paper. This job has one distinct benefit—when your hands become too sticky to roll balls, you get to lick them off, finger by finger, before washing your hands.

Job #2, is only given to Master Strawberry Makers (5-10 years). It requires experience and technique as you gently roll each ball first in red sugar while simultaneously shaping it into a conical form. One learns early to leave the top sugarless, so that when you dip it in green sugar for the calyx (you learned a new word, didn’t you?) it will stick. The youngest apprentice sits at the end of the table and pokes the green stem in.

My mother credits this recipe to Renee Pavey who was a neighbor of hers in Columbia, MO in the early 1960’s. Mrs. Pavey donated the unique treat to a church bazaar displayed in apothecary jars. She famously didn’t let her kids eat any of them. My mom admired them so much she got the recipe, and we have been making them as gifts for family and friends every holiday season since. And, yes the kids have always gotten to eat them, at times to the point of never wanting to eat another one.

Thought for the Day

 There is no better feeling than giving. You punch that gift order, mail that letter, send that gift card, make that last minute charitable donation, and you are in love with yourself for a moment. You never know the impact but the thrill of giving never gets old. Do it everyday! I'm serious. 

Adam

 by Betsy Vick, as shared with family on Thanksgiving Day

I attended the 2023 Suicide Loss Day on Nov 18, and we made collages to represent our loved

ones. Then we shared what our collages meant. I said Adam was the first grandchild and my

sister’s oldest boy, and she always called him her Best Boy. He was an amazing kid and

exceptional young man. I was always happiest when the cousins were together, and they share

so much history. They also had a lot of fun. Even though he left too soon, Adam’s life was well

lived. He always challenged me and inspired me to think. The impact he had on others was so

great, and we didn’t fully realize that until after he was gone, and we met all these wonderful

people in his life we didn’t know. If he were your friend, he would be your fierce defender, but he

could also be fiercely competitive and argumentative at times. The candle and sun represent

that Adam will always be a light in our lives. I also believe that where there is love, there is hope.

What I didn’t mention was the dream part, where I was going to say that it doesn’t happen often,

but that we look for Adam in our dreams. That night before I went to bed, I thought, “I wish I

would see Adam in my dreams tonight.” I woke up at 4:17 (Calhoun?) to go the bathroom. I

usually have trouble falling back asleep, but I fell back asleep right away and when I woke up, I

remembered the dream I was having.

Susan and I were with Eli, Cal and Emery at some kind of amusement park, but it wasn’t a place

we’d been to in real life. Eli and Cal were teenagers and Emery was around 12—about the same

ages as in the picture. We were on this speed boat going really fast and the spray was hitting

our faces, and we were laughing. It was wonderful. At the end of the ride, everyone got into

these into little floating capsules, and we drifted into a line to finish the “ride.” I wasn’t really sure

what the ride had been—other than the speed boat part—but we were gathered in this kind of

café area at the end, and in walks someone who looks like Adam in a shiny, black scuba diving

outfit and all you can see is his face. And then I remembered that the ride we had been on,

when you start, you give the operator a picture of someone and then they create this kind of AI

avatar and Adam was our protector in this ride/game we were in. If we were in danger, he would

jump in front of us to save us. When this avatar walked in, I ran to him and gave him a hug, and

said, “I love you” and he hugged me back and said, “I love you, too.” I knew it was a false

version of Adam, but it seemed so nice to hug him and sort of experience having him back. I

said to Susan, “I would ride that ride over and over just to get to the end and share that hug

again” and she said, “So would I.”

We left that area, and it was time to leave and no one really wanted to but everyone wandered

away, and I had won a case of Dr. Pepper somehow and I was trying to collect it. It turned out

they were out of Dr. Pepper, and I walked out of this area where I was trying to get this free gift

and I entered this video arcade type place—lots of lights and noises. I was kind of disappointed

about the Dr. Pepper and the day ending, and I saw this group of young men gathered shoving

each other. It was hard for me to tell if they were friends just joshing around or if they were

arguing, and out of this group, I heard a voice. I don’t know what he said, but I knew it was

Adam’s voice, and I shouted really loud, “Adam!” He emerged out of that group and came over

to me, looking mildly irritated and kind of sharply said, “What!?!?” as if I were bothering him. I

just stared at him because he was so real and unlike that avatar I’d seen earlier. He was wearing

a t-shirt and jeans, and his hair was falling in his eyes. I was so stunned. This was the real Adam

appearing at this amusement park. I said, “I didn’t know you were here.” And his face softened,

he smiled and he gripped my forearms really tight and I held his forearms and he said in that kind

of half-joking way of his…”Where did you think I’d be?” Then I woke up, feeling this surge of

gratitude that Adam must have heard me the day before talking about him and somehow knew I

asked him to visit me in a dream. Where did I think he’d be? He reminded me that he is always

with us, of course.

Core Values

 I ask my clients this so why not ask myself?

• Peace
• Health
• Purpose
• Giving
• Dependability
• Family harmony
• Fitness
• Caring for environment
• Creative expression
• Knowledge
• Wisdom
• Heritage
• Respect
• Diversity
• Kindness
• Optimism
• Authenticity 

I feel like I could go on and on. Is "Words" a value? I love words and vocabulary and putting words together in different ways. 

Values I need improvement on:

• Patience
• Vanity
• Selflessness
• Non-judgmentalism
• Positivity
• Simplicity
• Non-attachment to things

I could go on and on with this, too. 

Sir Richard

 Written by Betsy Vick and spoken at memorial service 2/28/20 

 

It was a dark and stormy night.  Ten of us were seated around the campfire when the captain said, “Vick, tell us a story!” and this is the story I told…

That was the start of a story my Dad would tell many times on stormy nights or long car rides and it’s a story I would later tell to my own son on many occasions. My dad would like to be remembered as a Soldier, Poet, Scholar, Teacher, but to me he was (Dad, Poppy, Richardo, miles g. coverdale, Poor Richard), a supreme storyteller and, of course, father.  His chosen epithets Soldier, Poet, Scholar, Teacher, are his own, but he lived them out in my recollection as a teller of tales and a role model for his children.

My father loved to sing and through his singing would tell us stories but also singing would figure in the important stories of his life, most significantly and oft told, meeting my mother in Madrigals in college, singing in theater productions (anyone remember Linus or Dusty Biffle?), harmonizing in the church choir (though he wasn’t that crazy about church, he went for the choir), playing his ukulele with us kids gathered to sing from the Burl Ives Songbook, Froggy Went a Courtin’ or Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night, singing Christmas carols and rounds (Man’s Life’s a Vapor) with his grown children and grandkids. 

My Dad wasn’t the typical father of the 70s I’ve learned in talking to friends and acquaintances from the same era.  Because he taught at the university, he was often there in the mornings as we got ready for school, he could often be at home when we came home, he was ever present and ready to travel on holidays and breaks that were the same as ours (and, boy, did we travel;, he cooked many weekly meals and I learned as much about cooking from him as my mother (and both are fine cooks in their own right).  On occasion when I wasn’t feeling good enough to go to school but not contagious, I could go with him out to Western (and this was long before take your daughter to work day) and hang around the office with him and Dr. Logsdon or outside the classroom for his 50 minute class, sitting there quietly on a bench, swinging my legs, listening to his voice booming through the door, speaking in a language I couldn’t always understand.  Yes, he was a scholar of old and middle English and spoke old English with a beautiful lilt and quoting Beowulf (and others) until nearly the day he died.  I know we heard Grendl approaching over this past Christmas season.  At my wedding, he read the poem Alysoun, and while I can’t say I understood the words, through my life, I heard always from my father the story of love. 

Back in the day, on Saturday mornings he would bake whole wheat bread (and if we were lucky cinnamon rolls) and listen to the Metropolitan opera on the radio as he worked the dough.  He tended the garden alongside my mother, stooping his 6 foot five frame to plant seeds and later pull the weeds and then harvest.  He and my mother were true partners in most everything they did. 

He had a library in our house, where he smoked his cigars and his pipe, while preparing for class, grading papers, reading or holding me in his lap to play our favorite game, Baby and Great Eagle.  The hours I sat curled in a chair in that library with my father and sometimes without, (we were always welcome there) reading books I discovered on his shelves, including the entire Lord of the Rings series, Slaughterhouse 5, the poems of Emily Dickinson, listening to records of musicals (Man of La Mancha) and comedy albums (Stan Freeburg), are the stories of my youth, etched by my father’s love of literature, music and art.  These are the stories to tell our children.

My father taught us through stories how to be kind, how to do good in this world, how to be frugal and thoughtful, and he exemplified those stories through his actions. But he also loved to argue (he would call it debate) and his opinions were strong and not to be trifled with—you should come prepared.  But he was also a teller of jokes (some more raunchy than his daughters liked) and puns, and many were heard often to the point of annoyance (got any grapes?) but he could also surprise us with new ones we’d never heard before, just spontaneously erupting from him, like the one he told to my sister and me one of the last times I spoke with him over at Wesley Nursing, a rat walks into a bar and says “is the bar tender here?”  That’s it—if you don’t get it—ask me later. 

In eulogies, we commemorate the good in people, but my dad did not believe in fairytales and he rarely told those kinds of stories. There were meager times, there were many “nos”, there were plenty of slammed doors and I hate yous (shouted mostly by me, I think), bickering over things large and small, but looking back and reflecting on our lives, it seems to me best that we do recall those we loved in a cherished halo of goodness and allow the raw feelings and bruised egos to fall away, to let go the chaff and understand the true kernel of a person, and to me, that kernel of my father’s being was his family.

Because my dad taught tales of heroes, like King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and because he knew many true heroes while fighting in Korea, men who gave their lives, he didn’t like the overuse of the word hero in the everyday; in fact, he objected strenuously to it, so forgive my indulgence here, Poppy, as I speak about someone I believe was your hero.  My dad would always give credit to his father for how he learned to be a father and while I didn’t really get to know my Grandpa Vick, not the man my father so admired at any rate, I understood that the story my grandfather told my father through his life was that if you lead your life with love, compassion and kindness, that will be returned to you, and so that’s what my dad did, he led his life with love, and the tales he told were heroic and inspiring, just like my father, even in the most mundane moments of life. 

 

 

 

 

 

O to 60

I'm not talking about power train speed, I'm talking my lifespan so far. Although sometimes it feels like I got here in accelerated time, and I am still that little girl with her nose in a book. 

60 is just 15 times 4, right? Interesting way to look back on my life that occurred to me today. 

0-15 forming my identity. I thought of myself as a pretty, book worm-y, fairly popular band kid. Quiet, an introvert, smart. 

15-30 whoa, those are some crazy years. I drank a lot, got married twice, divorced once and became a mom. I suppose I could say I laid the stage for some better years ahead. My identity was pretty shaky in this time frame. 

30-45 a move back to my hometown, parents nearby and raising 3 boys in small town mid-America. Working and just surviving, fixing up my old childhood home. I am still an introvert but craved social interaction. I quit drinking and saved my liver many years of toil. A wife and mother contained my identity. 

45-60 going back to school, focusing on career, building a solid work record when, bam out of nowhere, we lost Adam. All the boys were out of the house, graduated from college or close, bills were paid, we thought we made it. My identity became the face of suicide awareness and prevention, mental health and wellness. Eli and Cal thrived, got married, moved, and overcame the loss of their big brother. We all adapted in our own ways, but we stuck together and I felt the true strength of family, as I never have before. 

60-75 what will this period bring? My hope is to grow more peaceful, be more present, compassionate towards myself and others, and continue to live with purpose. I am certain I can handle whatever life hands me. I have realized my true strength.

Walk Season

 Out of the Darkness Walk season ended yesterday on a wonderful note. My heart is full of gratitude and amazement of the group that gathered in Springfield for Adam and suicide prevention. Our very own Team Tut ranked 5th in fundraising for the entire walk garnering us a shout out and our own whoop back. The synchronicity that the Walk has moved to the UIS campus where Adam attended from 2008-11 and met these incredible friends is not lost on me. Here we are minus our photographer Laura:

This was our largest group yet (25).   

The day started with me driving Adam's Uncle Kevin from Macomb to Springfield. He left Omaha at 2:00 a.m. to be here for this event. He has also attended several Macomb Walks in past years. We had convivial and pleasant chat; he cares and feels deeply. Tae and his delightful girlfriend Allison surprised everyone by driving in from Chicago. It was great to see him again. Jon has relocated to the Nashville area and drove up. That's some effort! I met Brittany and Laura for the first time, and Matt brought his fiancé Jillian all the way from Arizona. Could it get any better? Kallie and Brent arrived and a contingent of 8 from Edwardsville. Sarah came from Indiana once again. She's such a caring soul. A few friends still live in Springfield, but Zach was away for work and missed for the first time in 8 years. 

Adam, Sarah, Stephanie

It's something to see these kids adulting. 7 years ago they were starting careers and navigating relationships. Now they are successful adults in all areas. I love what they are doing and how they pick up where they left off with easy camaraderie. 

I had seen many pictures of Brittany with Adam, but we had never met. Laura lived in the apartments and was honing her photography skills in college. She eventually completed her MBA and has her own photography business. She told me she envied Adam's intellect and ability to put off school work and studying until the last minute then stay up for 24 hours and produce something "brilliant." Someone told me the picture below was taken by someone who had skills at UIS, so I'm pretty sure it was Laura:

Laura (first row, far right) got in the last picture when a random stranger offered to snap a shot:

Iconic monolith at UIS campus in background. Thanks for setting this up, Laura.

Brittany and Adam circa 2009

After the Walk, we go to a restaurant for fellowship, food and libations. I enjoy being in the position to pay the bill for everyone each year. I don't get to spend on money on Adam anymore, and we are fortunate to be doing well enough to treat everyone who shows up. 

Motorheads Route 66

Signs

Kevin got into Macomb in time to spend some moments alone at the labyrinth. He told me as he sat down on Adam's bench, his car alarm went off and he thought it was surely a sign from Adam and his mom, Colleen, Adam's beloved paternal grandmother. 

Springfield, IL Adam and Uncle Kevin

Aunt Betsy wasn't able to make it. She represented and accompanied my mom cross country to attend my niece Laura's wedding. Interestingly, as they were driving to the wedding at 3:20 Eastern time, just as we were completing our Walk in Springfield, she looked up to see Tuttle Road, a sign she easily could have missed, but didn't. 

Walk season is my favorite season of this journey in losing a child. It fills me with love and hope that so many support me, Adam, and this cause. I can do something to honor Adam and the lives he touched.