Life in the Darkness

Some questions I was asked by a friend after she read "How many children do I have?: Do you think it is hard for you to say you have 2 kids instead of 3 because of the way he died? If it was an accident or something do you think it would be easier? I know I wanted to avoid talking about my dad because I hate telling people he killed himself. It almost made me feel less of a person because I wasn't enough to make him want to live. I know that's silly but that's how I felt for a long time. Suicide has such a stigma and some people have no understanding of it and are very judgmental.

Saying I have two kids feels disrespectful to Adam, but there are definitely times I don't want to get into it and that makes saying I have two kids easier. I think my fear is more of breaking down while talking about it and being vulnerable. That is just not something I want to do with everyone. My desire is to be open, but it's not always going to be the time and place.
My "less of a person" feeling comes more from fear of being judged as a bad mother that would have a child that felt he had to kill himself. Sometimes I imagine people are looking at me and thinking, "There goes the girl whose son killed himself" (maybe to torture myself). I know Adam did not want me to think I failed as a parent. In all his writing and conversations I have had with him and that others have shared with me, I believe he understood all his experiences made him the person he is and that he had perspective on his personal traumas (the divorce, moving to Illinois, being bullied). I tried to be careful about not talking about my mother guilt with Adam because I thought he would feel like I thought he was a failure as a person.

I still am not really feeling the stigma or judgment coming from people about suicide. So, no I don't think it would be easier to say he died in an accident or of natural causes. Saying he is dead is just something that sticks in my throat when I try to say it out loud.

Self Care

Is it considered self care to take your meds, a hot shower, crawl in bed with two Reese's peanut butter eggs, a Russell Stover maple cream egg, a jug of water, a tablet, a book and turn out the lights at 8:30? Maybe not healthy self care but it will have to do.

How many children do I have?

I woke this morning at 4:30 a.m. with anxiety prevailing over depression for the first time in a long time. I asked myself, what does this part of me need? No answer came. I am left with my fallback, positive self talk: I have the tools and skills to deal with difficult situations.

Yesterday a nine year old child asked me how many kids I have? I hesitated, then replied, "Two." Luckily there was no follow-up, it is not for her to bear one bit of my sorrow. It seems there will now always be a hesitation with that question, the weighing of the relationship, how much depth I want to go into at that moment, how much of myself am I willing to share, what am I feeling in that moment? I have felt for awhile that I am existing on a whole other level than everyone else. I have no name for this.

I've been poking around the Internet and found this blog:

https://chasinghissunshine.com/

It's insane how many feelings are shared between a mother losing a child at two weeks and another at 27 years. I love her poem from the perspective of the lost child. It's funny-serendipitous that I find a poem right after writing my first poem. The prayer flags are beautiful and an idea I had never heard of. It looks like a project right up my alley.


http://kangaroospotting.blogspot.com/2015/09/how-to-support-someone-who-lost-child.html

My niece Dawn wrote this blog entry in September 2015. Re-reading it today, takes on a whole new meaning and depth. What a perceptive and eloquent woman she is.

I just saw two robins flitting around, mating (?) behind a board Pat had leaned up against the garage. Maybe that's what I needed, to think about new life beginning, always beginning again.

Far, Wide, Deep

I cried through my 5 minute meditation this morning. Tracey Chapman's first album came out when I was pregnant with Adam and living in Denver. Baby Can I Hold You became his song, rocking my pregnant belly in our slatted wooden rocking chair, then holding my warm little miracle until he fell asleep. I hadn't played the song since Adam passed until this morning. Maybe if I told you the right words at the right time...

I want to write a poem but I don't have a shred of poeticism in me. I am far too practical, efficient and direct in my writing.

In a bubble of my own making,
Don't try to pierce it
It might shatter into a billion jagged pieces and you will get hurt

Far away looking out from my bubble
Deep in my own soul
Pouring over every remnant I can find

Wide is the space between us
But I see you in the stars
And the clouds and the sky

Closer than I dreamed

Easter and Beyond

We survived the long holiday weekend without Adam. Betsy paid tribute to him before Easter dinner last night with a baked potato (he would not tolerate au gratin potatoes) and a Peep for each of us. It was one among several tearful moments that happened as we forge on.

The topic of our last time together at Christmas came up. Eli's perception was that Adam slept a lot, though that could be said of most of his visits. I couldn't remember a single conversation or interaction. Pat asked directly about Bella and received a seemingly honest answer. Tara thought he looked unwell in the family pictures. Cal took Adam's last notes to his room to view on his own. As I was looking for a photo of Ethan, Cal, Eli and Adam together for a Cousins picture frame for Betsy, I found one of them plus Hannah, and Adam looked positively ghostly, I now sadly reflect. There is no way anyone is putting that in a frame. I wonder what was going through his mind less than a month before he ended his life. Reading his last words scribbled on notebook paper in January adds to the mystery, but it is good, too, as T. reminded me. We have something. I know he was contemplating getting help as much as anything else, and he was trying to work it out through writing.

It strikes me that his suicide has been much harder on Adam's younger family and friends. While I haven't experienced a major death, let alone suicide, I have more life experience and perspective to draw on. The younger generation are experiencing this at a time when their own development is still emerging. I see Ethan as more subdued and introspective than I have ever seen him. While it of course shapes all of our lives, this event will impact my nieces and nephews and friends of Adam for many more years than mine. I can't imagine how huge this is for them. My heart aches for their sadness and confusion.

I am left to ponder what Mother's Day and Adam's birthday will be like. One thing is most likely, I will keep writing.

Good Friday

The day started with checking off one more item on the list to settle Adam's affairs. Got his taxes done with our fantastic accountant who makes everything so easy. His oldest daughter graduated with Adam. I can't tell you how relieved I felt when that was done.

Then to get ready for my visit with T. I want to be careful to respect her privacy which I have probably already busted, but hoping she will forgive me in my quest to share as much and as openly as I can. She was looking for closure, as she had not been able to attend Adam's service, and some answers. I was looking to learn about a side of Adam I didn't know. It was deep and thorough and cleansing. I think she got what she was looking for and I was able to say things and show her things I don't share with most people.

Miss M (my Little Sister of five years) came over and we played her Logo game with my entire family. She got a hysterical kick out of Chris' dramatic reading of the brand name trivia questions ("Everything tastes better when it's sitting on a ____?"). She cheered him on when it was his turn to answer: "Come on Chris, you got this, you're really smart!" One bank of questions was devoted to "Peeps," Adam's favorite Easter treat (sign?).

We had a huge fire in the backyard last night, wide as it usually is tall. The neighborhood cat was sniffing around Pearl's gravesite by the apple trees. Betsy reminded us that one of those trees was planted for Adam when he was a baby. We were talking about the roasted squirrels we had thrown in the last two pyres. WARNING: morbidity follows. For the second time I had the terrible image of what Adam's cremation might have been like.The first was when I saw the funeral director who had picked up Adam's body from Springfield driving down the street in a pickup truck. The reality of what really happened to his physical remains is one of those things I try to block out as much as possible.

Overall, it was a good Friday. I went to bed pretty exhausted before 10:00.

Coldplay Friday

I am just anxiously waiting for Adam's friend Tara to get here for lunch. Adam would probably scoff at Coldplay, and I am 10 (?) years late on the draw, but I enjoy Chris Martin's melancholy voice and songs.

This from my friend, the scientist, just now:

As your friend I will be thinking about you. I know this weekend will be rough. I believe that Adam is always with you and your family in spirit. When you least expect it you may notice him in his brothers laughter and smiles,or in your nephews eyes. Life is a circle and we are connected by our DNA. Pieces of him still remain in this life. Although science will never be able to prove life beyond death in terms of religious views I can tell you with certainty that we all live on in our shared DNA. Sometimes I am able to find comfort in this fact. I see my dad in my son and daughter and it brings pleasant memories. And someday sooner than we all wish we too will be a memory but I have faith that we will be with the ones we lost. If there is anything you need just call or message me . I can even make you some chicken and noodles for the family if it would make you all feel just a little better. smile emoticon Chicken and noodles=love smile emoticon

Sparks
Coldplay
Did I drive you away
I know what you'll say
You'll say, "oh, sing one we know"
But I promise you this
I'll always look out for you
That's what I'll do
I say oh
I say oh
My heart is yours
It's you that I hold on to
That's what I do
And I know I was wrong
But I won't let you down
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, yeah I will, yes I will
I said oh
I cry oh
Yeah I saw sparks
Yeah I saw sparks
And I saw sparks
Yeah I saw sparks
Sing it out
La, la, la, la, oh...
La, la, la, la, oh...
La, la, la, la, oh...
La, la, la, la, oh...

Magic Changes

This guy's got nothing on Ethan...

Bits of 'Is and 'At

Enough time has passed that I am getting little trigger flashbacks. Weird stuff like eating broccoli cheese soup at Subway this past weekend reminded me of coming home from Springfield that first time and eating that same thing. It's depressing. Washing a coat I wore during that time and putting it away for the winter. Riding in his car for the first time when someone wanted to test drive it.

Things that are hard: telling people about Adam that don't know. Thinking about how this weekend with my family Adam would have come home. Not buying any Peeps this year. That I lost the adult coloring book and colored pencils that I found in his room (I don't know why this bugs me so much, I think it spoke volumes for who he wanted to be). Watching the video of his pictures. Hearing songs like "How Do I Live" even though I know it's meant in a romantic sense. Remembering that Adam hated it when I cry.

Things that are not so hard: talking about Adam with people who know. Going to work and focusing on other people's problems. Finally reading a book again.

I've been stressing about financial things like doing Adam's taxes and selling his car. Really stressing. Then yesterday I thought, Adam wouldn't want me stressing about his affairs. Just chill out. And it helped.

Real Dream

After falling asleep rather quickly last night and then waking for two hours, I fell back in a deep sleep. I woke at just the right time to remember vividly my first dream about Adam since he died. The boys, Betsy and I were in my kitchen, when he walked in. I ran to hug him because this was post-death, and I knew he was there in some kind of ghost form. I was astounded when he didn't disappear with the hug. He then said to Betsy, "Do you want to see me eat my last grilled cheeses?" The next thing I remember he was in a miniature sized red convertible in the parking lot getting a push from the boys. The car didn't start so I tried pushing it and eventually that tripped the starter and away he went.

Ride Store

It felt weird.sad coming to Betsy's without Adam even though it has been many years since Adam made this trip. There are still many memories stored here.

Betsy/Adam in Monster Trucks, Chris/Adam are in the top airplane

Yesterday was an "up" day. Could have been the clear, sunny, warm weather, fresh air, nice walk over the Big Four bridge. I was running through the parking lot at Hobby Lobby pushing a cart pretending to run into people. We shopped at Bass Pro Shop,  formerly known as The Ride Store to us. Betsy discovered this mall with kiddie rides shortly after moving to Louisville to start the Ph.D. program at U of L. Now the Bass Pro has taken over the closed down mall and there are no more rides. Our kids enjoyed going there every time we visited, and Adam was the first. While still a toddler he could play freely in a carpeted area with big vinyl covered geometric shapes. I remember wanting to just sit there and veg as I was a little exhausted by motherhood. Later he could ride the mini airplane ride and the mini monster trucks (with an assist from an adoring aunt and uncle). Still later it was the simulator ride he enjoyed. He introduced it all to Eli and Cal after they came along. I'll find some pictures after I get home.

Fun at the old River Falls Mall (Ride Store) in Clark County, IN

Today was cold, dreary and down. I didn't exercise at all. I finally got to talk to my good friend ML from Buffalo. That picked me up. We had an early dinner at Four Sisters Vietnamese French restaurant. I had Vietnamese coffee for the first time. Delish. It tasted like very high quality chocolate milk (A+ Adam). We went to Grease tonight and I found myself crying when Ethan sang his Magic Changes song. I thought Man of LaMancha was going to have me in tears last fall, but no, Grease makes me cry. Go figure. Ethan played Doody not Kinicky. Whatever.

Relaxin' after the show

Grease and Grime

I noticed about the 13th this is the first March I have not gotten excited about spring since I was a little kid, and the first in many years I hadn't taken note of the first signs of spring. Then suddenly Wednesday I was standing outside and saw buds on the flowering pear tree and the lilac bush, and heard cardinals singing.

This weekend I will get see my nephew Ethan perform in Grease as Kinicky. The only reason I am familiar with the character was I watched the live TV event of this musical on January 30th. I tuned in primarily to see Carlos PenaVega (the Dancing with the Stars cutie and Columbia, MO native) play Kinicky. I related to his addiction recovery story, his ultra-cute marriage to Alexa PenaVega (of Nashville) but not necessarily his Christian conversion. In spite of his "moral" dilemma, he danced the hell out of his Magic Mike routine. I never got back to the DVR to finish watching the movie because I had another show (which shall remain nameless) Monday night and Tuesday we got the horrible news about Adam. I will now have a chance to see how it ends.

Pat has gone ham this week, brightening. lightening, whitening and tightening our old house. Thanks go out to him for that and his patience with me working through my ever changing mental state and heightened uptightness. Have some fun alone with Eli and I'll see you Sunday!

A New Week

It was good to go to work today and be busy with my mind occupied. This evening I had an amazing conversation with someone who is battling cancer. We had never really talked before, but his knowing my situation and my knowing his, we just clicked. I noticed some similarities in our collective experience; shock, fear, faith, acceptance, living with mystery. Although it was not verbalized, I think there is a sense of peace that comes with knowing the worst has happened. Cheryl Strayed expressed it after the death of her mother like this: "nothing bad could happen to me. The worst thing already had." It was an easy conversation about difficult situations. I have had people opening up to me like never before, talking about mental health, suicide, serious illness, personal things we usually keep to ourselves or our inner circle. It has been one of the positives to come out of this.

Something Cal said yesterday stuck with me. He was sharing his timeline (of his life) with his reflection group on the trip to Memphis. He described his service trip to Guatemala over Christmas as putting him on the highest of highs. He had written a really great 2 1/2 page, single spaced, essay on it that Grandpa had been requesting since he returned in January. He had in fact just emailed it to Grandpa on February 2nd when he got a text message from his aunt saying she was so sorry and her heart was breaking. He had no idea what was going on, since he had just talked to Grandpa to make sure he got the email. As he explained this to the students and one older adult, he went from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows upon learning that Adam had ended his life. He said the group was eerily silent and the adult present gasped. We are all experiencing telling our story to someone who has no clue what is coming. It is kind of a defining moment and hurdle we all must cross at some point.

Some of the Mississippi River Clean Up

Guatemala was all about the people

Falling Apart

If you asked me earlier today I would tell you I am falling apart. Tears over many things. Frantic need to find certain baby pictures. I don't want to talk about it or for anyone to 'intervene.' It feels more rightfully mine than the serenity and strength I have been walking around with.

Unlocking Adam's picture gallery brought a new round of emotions. Much of it was videos of a professional football game he had attended (?), pictures of big, ugly fish in the kitchens of Asian restaurants. A day at the zoo. Nature shots. A few pictures with Bella, a few of Pearl. He didn't actually use the camera that much. A couple disturbing images popped up of Adam with the gun. I don't know if these were taken around the time of his death, as I can't see dates on them. I found myself compulsively going back and making myself look at them and try to discern the place and the context, but it just ended up upsetting me more.

We have found a couple of references to health problems on his email and texts. At this point it is a mystery if something was going on with his health that frightened him and somehow contributed to his decision.

I think if we are honest, most of us have had some at least fleeting thoughts of suicide at one time or another. What would happen if I ran my car off the road? Don't panic here, because I am really fine, but I did think, maybe I should go find him. I don't want him to be alone. Then I thought maybe he is with Grandpa Charlie and Pearl (as of Friday), and you know what? I will die one day, we all will, and if it is meant to be, I will see him again.

So, yeah. It's getting real. Now cleaned up, in my PJ's and tucked into bed with Wild, I feel okay. Just okay.

Hitting Hard but Coming Through

Today was rough. I got a sudden headache and starting vomiting about 9:30 a.m. after making pancakes for Pat and a friend I am supervising for licensure. I had to send her home and go to bed. I put in ear plugs because Pat was maniacally cleaning the house. I just let the emotions fly, pretty much wailing, and then had a good nap. Still down after getting up and doing some things, letting small things and things people say and do grind me down.

I had a 70 minute conversation with Cal about his alternative spring break to Memphis to clean up the Mississippi River. This is his third trip, second as trip leader, and this time I think it was a deeper experience as he was able to share with people who didn't know him at all, what he had recently been through. They shared with him as well, and he met a girl from Springfield who had frequented Adam's restaurant and had something of  a crush on him. I honestly think this kid (Cal) (maybe the girl, too) needs to become a counselor. If teaching is what he loves, that's great, but he would also make a fantastic therapist or social worker. The field needs more men. In this conversation I was able to emote with Cal and open up to him as I have not been able to previously. I definitely began to feel better after talking and listening to him.

Friends are lifting me up through prayers and messages and making plans with me. Life goes on somehow. I posted a video to Facebook today from a young man about depression. Wishing something like that had spoken to Adam. He said there is always light in the future. I know that is true, for me at least. I can't actually be in someone else's shoes but I have to some degree. I wish there was a mechanism to stop people from making a permanent action in response to overwhelming, yet ultimately temporary, feelings.

Dreaming

I think I slept about 6 hours. Pretty good. I woke up from a dream where Adam was lying in bed and I went over to say, "Don't ever, ever kill yourself" and hug him. I don't know if I told him or was just considering it, because I wasn't sure that was something I should say to him. It was always kind of delicate talking to him. I knew he would deeply consider anything I or anyone said, and I didn't want to make a mistake and make him feel worse.

It's Getting Real

I miss this guy something fierce tonight, today, all day. What was originally going to be a 3 hour workshop on Cultural Diversity in Springfield followed by lunch at Little Saigon with our favorite waiter turned into an excruciatingly boring presentation followed by an appointment with the "Evidence Section" of  the Springfield Police Department to collect Adam's last effects, otherwise known as a cell phone and what they have been calling a 'journal.' I inadvertently learned what the police do with firearms used in suicides (keep for at least one year and then have them melted down). After that painful interaction and seeing the original notes for the first time on a small white tablet, it was hard to keep it together. Thank you to J for accompanying me on this unexpected journey.

We headed over to Little Saigon which I really wanted to follow through on. I had the uniforms washed on hangers to return if they could make some use of them. No one seemed to recognize me so we were seated at a table and placed our order with "Chris." Steamed dumplings and Panang Curry lunch special with egg drop soup and a small egg roll. While we were waiting for our food, I took the shirts up and greeted the hostess/manager (I'm sorry I do not remember her name); we hugged and she took the shirts from me. J and I both enjoyed the food, and on the way out the staff all said good-bye and I swear, An looked like he was going to cry which made me start to cry.

J wanted to check out the little market across the street so we walked over. By this point, I was starting to think about how beautiful the day was, but how Adam would never be riding his bicycle on the rails to trails path, never going into work again, never parking in the back of the lot. I thought about how it must be hard for his co-workers who were used to seeing him everyday to be reminded of his absence. It's getting real for me.

I don't understand what was going on, what was going through his mind after reading the last things he wrote on this earth. He was making to do lists, talking about Bella, about his weight, about eating pizza and then dying. Several things he wrote will haunt me forever.

I put the phone together with the charger I found in his bedroom and have looked through some of the text messages. Pretty predictable stuff. He had gotten fitted and paid for his tux for Eli's wedding. His last message out was 1/29/16 at 11:03 p.m. The photo app needs an update before I can look through his pictures which I do not know how to access. I just need to know everything I can to try to put the pieces together. It's a jumble right now and I just want to obliterate everything from my mind and maybe sleep for the first time in three nights.

One of the those Nights

I guess it's going to be one of those nights. I've already taken my regular medicine plus two Tylenol PM, and I find myself sobbing in bed. This week has already been a downer. I have not been busy enough and I've found myself wandering around physically and mentally unmoored. But tonight the memories are just overtaking me. Remembering Memorial Day 2013 when I went down to Springfield. The plan was for me to buy steaks and Adam was going to invite friends over to grill out. It didn't happen because the weather turned bad and a tornado came through Springfield. He took me the Chesapeake instead, and if I remember correctly, it was the first time he insisted on paying. I thought that was such a cool turning point in our relationship and his adulthood. When we got back to the apartment, my mom called to say Uncle Cal had just died.

For Adam's birthday in 2014, I went down to visit and we had lunch at the Dubliner. It was kind of windy and cool but we ate on the patio. I remember him wanting to show me pictures on his phone of a recent trip to St. Louis because as he said, "You don't really know about my life here in Springfield." Afterwards I bought him a nice Giant bike as his last one had been stolen out of his garage.

One holiday the family was all playing a game called Beyond Balderdash where you are given an obscure date, a name, acronym, etc. and everyone writes what they think the real answer is in order to fool everyone into voting for theirs as the actual answer. Adam was the first one of us to have a smart phone, and he was googling some of the info, because the real definitions were weirder than anything we could think of. And sure enough, there was a man who had three legs.

Sunday October 26, 2008, Adam's first semester at UIS, Eli and I drove down for a David Crosby and Graham Nash concert at Sangamon Auditorium. I think we all appreciated this show and the fine musicianship. Mom and I had stopped for dinner with Adam earlier that month on our way home from a Laura Ingalls Wilder tour to Missouri. Mom's choice was Red Hen (close to UIS and sit-down). After she grilled the waitress about the canned green beans, Adam warned her, "Grandma, never give the wait staff a hard time- they might do something to your food."

I pray to God that you are safe and know that I gave you the best of my love.

I just love this picture

I think this is my current and possibly all time favorite picture of Adam, with his friend Tara in 2010, New Year's Eve, I am told.

Several of Adam's friends continue to use a picture with him for their profile pic on Facebook. This means so much to me. I know they will change the pictures one day, and I kind of hope I don't notice because I don't know how I will react. For now I am just drinking it in and appreciating the love.

Real or Not Real?

I guess my question for the day is, when is it going to feel real? I was having a breakdown tonight reading about the birthday of my friend's son who took his life two years ago. His brother and sisters spoke at  his service and it was impossible then and now not to cry over the courage and heartbreaking pain they experienced and shared with everyone that day. It was absolutely mind blowing how they were able to do that, and draw strength from each other and how this family continues to bond together.

It feels wrong of me to detach the way I have and to become emotional over other people's losses. I truly can't help it. It's like I don't have anything to fear anymore. It's not that I am trying to compare Adam's death or our family to anyone else but it does seem obvious that we cope and grieve in different ways. I have never done this before, lost anyone close to me, so I don't have a clue what to expect. I printed off the stages of grief for Pat over the weekend, and I don't seem to fit into any of them. I am going about business like I haven't missed a beat.

Sometimes I still get that pounding, racing heart beat when I am trying to sleep or wake up and I realize that Adam is gone, that it's not a dream. It feels like terror. But most of the time, if I am honest, I was more sad and scared when he was alive and unreachable.

I am horrified to be saying this.

March Musings

Life is busy and life is good. I just re-read all the cards we have received last night. It was difficult, but it made me feel good, too. I have felt so many things but overriding it all is love. I’m not sure how much love Adam was feeling when he ended his life, but I do know we had good times and he was loved by many. I think he knew that somewhere inside. I found near his bed letters, real actual mail, that I had written him and it was a comfort to know he saved those words and maybe re-read them a few times.

I am on about #75 of thank you notes with at least 25 more to go. I have enjoyed doing this more than you would think. I much prefer it to watching TV, and I still have not been able to read a book. I started Wild by Cheryl Strayed. I found it in Adam's room and thought it would be nice to connect with him through reading this. I have been finding comfort in wearing some of Adam's old clothes and his watch (well, one of his watches). I stubbornly hold onto those last emails, to reassure myself that it wasn't my fault, that he wasn't mad at me. When I wake at 2 or 3 a.m., I usually drift over to Adam's room to finish the night. I know it sounds weird, but I haven't washed the sheets since he was home at Christmas and I have no plans to. It makes me feel closer to him, and I keep hoping I will see him in my dreams. Adam had a lot of sleep issues in that room, and I would even welcome a nightmare if I could see him again moving and talking and breathing.

As we March forth (wait that was yesterday), activities and people fill our days and evenings, but night time is still my time with Adam, good or bad. I say the prayer I taught him, and hope that he still remembered it and that it took him peacefully into his new dimension.

My bodyguards.

That Nuggets shirt is one I have been working out in. It's Andre Iguodala's. Adam had a connection to him through a cousin who went to UIS. He has since made a big name for himself with the Golden State Warriors.

Another Steal from Betsy

Breakfast drink for the morning. It's pre-mix chocolate milk. Rating 6/10.  --Timothy Yu, 2/7/16

As told to a packed house 6-6-16...

The Qualities of Chocolate Milk

 

Adam was the first, like his namesake.  The first in our world.  The first grandchild, the first nephew—he was there at the beginning.  He held all our love for a long time. More kids followed for all of us, but he was the leader, the one they could look to for life lessons—how to persevere, be strong.

Adam could be a bit of a contrarian—was that an understatement?  Sometimes we’d be having a conversation, and I’d think, “Wait, am I in an argument with Adam?  Crap, yes, I’m arguing with Adam.  And not only that, I’m losing this argument I didn’t know I was in—grrr.”  But if we were in a group, I always wanted Adam on my side.  I didn’t want to go up against him—his passion, his fierceness.  He was also a defender—he’d take up for someone if he saw them faltering.  He did that for Ethan a lot—stepping in to help him make his point, showing him how to clarify.  I knew Ethan was listening, learning because after we saw Adam, Ethan would be a little more defiant, more challenging and he’d echo Adam’s arguments.  How many times over the years did I say, “You sound just like Adam”?  I know his brothers learned the same, the courage to stand up for their convictions, to express their thoughts and be heard.

But that was only a part of Adam’s larger interest in life—in questioning and examining.  When Adam was about 13, he took a trip with Mom, Dad, Ethan and me to North Dakota.  (Adam was always ready to go—traveling even when he was still.)  At every meal, he’d order chocolate milk.  Now to most of us, chocolate milk is just a drink to go with your meal—not that interesting.  If you asked most kids how was the milk, they’d say fine or good.  But to Adam every glass was unique.  Was it pre-made or did they add chocolate to the milk?  If so, was it enough chocolate or too much?  Was it stirred properly or was the long spoon left in it so Adam could stir as he went.  Did you know sometimes they don’t bother to stir it, leaving that to the customer?  He even developed a rating system, comparing the milks along the way.  How could he make milk so interesting?  I don’t know, but we all looked forward to that first sip, then listening to Adam expound on the qualities of chocolate milk.  I’m sure you can all think of examples like that.  Adam could exasperate you, but you loved him all the more for it in the end because he cared so much about things and people many of us would never even notice.  He made you pay attention.

The last time I saw Adam, I told him to come give me a hug. He slowly unfolded himself from the couch, stood and stretched.  (Did you ever notice how deliberate he was in his movement?)  As he walked toward me for his hug, he said, with that edge of laughter in his voice that also contained some uncertainty, “Why?  You’ll only tell me how skinny I am…”  And it was true, I had been bugging him about that lately and was always worrying over him.  I told him, no, I wasn’t going to say that.  And, as I held him, I said, “You’re perfect.”  And he was.

So the waitress at Sunrise Cafe made my chocolate milk into a smiley face. How cuuuuutttteeee. 
--Ashleigh Elizabeth Lockhart, 2/12/16

Words

Sometimes when words fail me, someone else's words articulate my thoughts exactly, or what I hope to be my thoughts.

From sister-aunt Betsy: I’m still finding it impossible to believe in the neverness of not seeing Adam again.  It’s easier to just think he’s away and won’t have time to see us because of work or something.  Adam didn’t smile as much as the other kids—didn’t seem to “enjoy” things as much so when he was laughing, smiling, it meant so much more, but now I’m looking back wondering about that—was that genuine or meant to make us feel reassured?  I absolutely believe Tara’s message, but I wish we’d all been able to take some pieces of his pain and carry them for him so his burden wasn’t so great and unbearable.  I was so looking forward to when he figured things out for himself and moved confidently into the amazing life I believe he would have lived.  His life was already good, but I just knew there was so much more waiting for him.  I’m so sorry to be saying all this…I’m soooooooooooooooooooooo sad. 

From Rich, an old friend: I know it seems like you will never feel whole again right now, and that can lead to doubts and more questions. Just know that the love that still surrounds you is real, and nothing can take that from you.

From me: I think when Adam smiled or laughed it was real. He was not one to fake things. I know he was uncomfortable in certain situations, but I take solace in recent times (2015) when he spent time with mom and dad just talking, and they all raved about how nice it was. And the come to Jesus (I mean this figuratively) I had with him in October. Once he made himself do stuff, I think he was glad.


From Mary-Louise Parker via AARP Magazine: You don't have to fight for your story when you're writing.

March 2, 2016

I am going to stay up to write this, because it has to be done. I will never have this day again to record how I feel, what I did, how I coped. It is exactly one month since we found out Adam was gone. Ironically (?), oddly enough, the death certificates showed up in the mail today, and verified what we already knew about the manner of death, suicide.

Before I had even seen this, I was driving home for lunch crying because the thought was real; Adam is never coming home again. He's not just in Springfield living his life, he is never, ever coming home. As life would have it, I went on Facebook and had this inspiring message from Tara: Just remember that he didn't do this to make your life sad or miserable..:he did it simply because his pain was too much to bear. I know Adam absolutely would not want any of us to be sad...and he will never be forgotten!!

It felt like Adam was talking through Tara to me. It blows my mind when young people are so smart and intuitive and mature. I am learning from my 'youngers' every day.

It feels like a milestone has been reached, all the hoopla has died down, and we are left not knowing what to feel or do or say sometimes. I'm sure I would not have taken that trip to Albuquerque if it had not been booked. Now coming back, I was only gone from work five days, but it felt like an eternity. I was really reaching for that trip and change of scenery and now that I'm back, a melancholia has set in (or so it seems).

A couple of kind friends sent me personal care packages, a nice reminder to take care of myself. I drew a bath tonight and dropped a bath bomb in watching it fizz and foam, lifting it up to see what air would do to it, rolling it down my legs. It smelled great and was a nice sensory stimulant. I used the Harry's razor and it glided perfectly around the lumpy knee area where I usually nick myself.

Thank you Tara, Claudia and Melissa for comforting me on a significant yet ordinary day.

Found this picture

Our family on Pikes Peak 1999

February 29

Happy 13th birthday Alyson! I don't really wish to be 13 again. No, not at all. I like the Google heading today. This day doesn't really exist, does it? Feels like it to me since I don't have to work on this odd Monday.

After a hearty bowl of steel cut oats (the real kind) with blueberries and walnuts, maybe a leisurely hike through the petroglyphs for my last day in ALBQ. I got all my souvenir shopping done yesterday at quaint Old Town. I even said a prayer for Adam on my knees in San Felipe de Neri parish church. Very spiritual place. We ate red chile brittle and pinion brittle. The chile brittle was far superior if you ever get a chance.

Lunch at El Pinto, an Albuquerque institution followed by our own Oscar party with leftover pizza. A super nice day. I wore an old shirt of Adam's and strangely enough it smelled like him even though I had washed it.

Sunny Albuquerque

This respite to Albuquerque in the works for a year and ticketed since early January has been restorative to say the least. Friday I was a little tender, having gotten up at 2:45 a.m. for an early flight. Arrived after noon in ALBQ. We had to return an Aerobed to Costco and ate our way through the store on tasty samples.

I got to tell the story of Adam to yet another avid listener and fellow mother. Our kids were an even bigger topic than usual. After fresh bread and homemade dipping oil with a side of fresh tomatoes I retired early and had the best nearly 11hours of sleep I can remember. We had the recommended specialties for breakfast (mammoth cinnamon rolls and breakfast burritos on homemade flour tortillas) at the iconic Frontier restaurant on Central Street, aka Route 66. ALBQ is a wee bit tacky compared to Santa Fe, and Alyson calls it the Wild West where the rules don't apply, eg you are expected to bribe the police and judges and gun toting is mandatory and obvious, though I haven't actually seen that yet. The locals have names like Bronc, Laredo and Shaw.

Off to Ojo Caliente mineral springs past the beautiful Espanola valley. The spa is up a bit in the mountains and features multiple outdoor shared hot springs, one being Arsenic pool which is somehow good for you. We spent about four hours in various temperatures from tepid to sizzling, took in the steam room and sauna, ate our picnic lunch of quinoa salad, swung in hammocks and commented on the array of hairy backs. It was about 70 degrees outside, the canyon walls rising up around us, the sky clear blue; just what my soul needed.

Back to ALBQ and my request to make our own pizzas at one of Alyson's Dominos. It was a blast putting on apron sans hairnet and pretending to be employed! My pan pizza and marble brownies were pretty damn good, too. Went to bed quite stuffed.

It surprises me how the sounds through the window are country and not city. Enjoying the music of Toto and Bonnie Rait. It's good to be among one's own generation.

Sandcastles

A tribute to Adam as given at his Memorial Service 2/6/16

By Chris Vick

If anything, my nephew Adam was tenacious. He believed given enough hard work, effort and
determination he could achieve the impossible. Case in point: The Sandcastles.
Pretty much every summer when Adam was a boy my parents would come to visit me in
Portsmouth, NH. And pretty much every summer Adam would hitch a ride with them.
Sometimes we would go to Boston or the Berkshires or the White Mountains but our favorite
excursions were to the ocean which was only about 15 minutes from my place.
Our favorite beach was not one of the big crowded resorts like Hampton Beach but an off the
beaten path stretch of sand called Foss Beach. The downside of Foss Beach, although it was big
and spacious at low tide, it practically disappeared at high tide. So we would check the paper in
the morning in order to arrive at the beach as close to low tide as possible, whereupon Adam
would begin building a sandcastle. And later as the tide eventually reached his structure, it would
of course, be destroyed by the waves.
But every day we went back Adam would declare “Today I am going to build the biggest,
strongest sandcastle ever and it WILL survive!”
He would work all afternoon on his project (with occasional breaks for swimming and boogie
boarding) until finally the tidal creep would reach his castle of sand and begin to undermine the
front wall, the first line of defense. Whereupon Adam would run in front of his structure as the
waves receded, gathering strength in anticipation of the next heavier and more destructive
assault. Adam would shout at the ocean, wave his fist, even pick up handfuls of sand and hurl
them furiously at the waves. Eventually, when none of these tactics worked, he would lie down
in front of what was left, sacrificing his own body for his beloved creation.
Finally, as usual, the tide would win the battle and leave the beach as smooth and flat as when
we arrived. Adam would shrug and go for one last swim as we packed up the beach accessories.
And, as we said goodbye to mother ocean, Adam would take a final look around and say
“Tomorrow…I will build a sandcastle that will last forever.”
Adam, I’ll keep building your sandcastles every summer and maybe, just maybe, someday…..

Another Monday

I might not be the only one feeling off today. Deflated, achey, down. Thinking things like, he'll never read another book, he'll never go to work, he'll never watch Making a Murderer or assess James Franco's performance in 11.22.63. I'll never get to hug his skinny frame, see him walk in in new sneakers*, find his balled up socks by the couch, make him 2 grilled cheeses at odd hours. Sometimes I think I have been too blunt, too direct, not emotional enough. My emotions feel buried deep inside so that I am able to go on but it's getting tiring. I have to remind myself what I tell my clients. There are no wrong feelings. No wrong responses. Yeah, right.

I no longer wake up crying, more just thinking. Before work I washed up some of Adam's clothes. We have pretty much dispersed his things to family members and friends but there were a couple of shirts I thought the boys might want, plus I wanted to return his work uniforms to Little Saigon. Why?? I figure that's one less thing someone has to buy; they could just hang them up for people to wear if they forget or spill something if no one needs them. So I am taking them out of the dryer to put on hangers and out falls a $20 bill. Grab another shirt and out falls another $20 bill. I wonder how he knew I spent all my cash this weekend. Later on I pull out the rest of the clothes, a third $20 bill for Pat.

We gave some of Adam's coats** to his old boss/friend Mike, and he stopped by wearing one of his coats, and handed us a set of keys from the pocket.

Adam with an early grilled cheese smile

*Adam had no less than 10 pairs of new and like-new sneakers.

**Adam had multiple coats; apparently he was known to bet coats when out with friends (Fight Club?).

I am not ashamed or stigmatized by what has happened. I'm just getting tired.

Denecke Love

The Deneckes who accepted Adam as one of their own from Day 1, have been profoundly affected by his death, as this cherished letter shows. The last line captures something no one else has said.

The Denecke cousins up to the point Adam and I entered (Adam in green hoodie) 

this enormous and loving family

*if you click on the pictures they will enlarge*

Susan, Orv, Eli and Cal, 

An hour does not go by where I don't get hit by a wave of sadness thinking about you guys. I first think about the hole that has been created in my soul never to be filled again. I then think about what Adam must have been feeling and cry for his sadness and struggles. My thoughts then turn to all of you and I struggle to keep myself together. Your sadness and loss must be exponentially worse than my own and that is impossible to imagine.

I understand you have received tremendous support over the past several weeks that has provided some level of comfort. I need you to know that you all must lean on us, your family, to continue to provide support over the coming months and years. We feel so deeply for your loss and will do anything to help you through times of struggle. What happened is sad, it is not fair and hard to understand. These facts will never change and we all need to figure out ways to pull you through the low points. 

You represent the greatest family on earth. Everything you do, all the decision you have made in life, all come back to "the family". I try to model myself after you all but I can't compare - your commitment to family and each other is 100% pure. The fact that you are such a wonderful family makes this tragedy more painful. I can only hope that the wonderful legacy Adam left will somehow relieve some of the pain.  

I will always remember Adam by his smirkish, mischievous smile that said to me "I am happy, I am up to something, and I am going to laugh when you finally figure it out."

I love you all, 

Charlie Jr. (Uncle Chib-A-Pet)

Post Script: Charlie Jr. (aka Nipsy) is the third to youngest of the 10 Denecke siblings. My boss (who is a therapist also) says to look out for STUG (sudden temporary upsurge of grief). I think I am having one now mixed with deep appreciation for people and life.

Adam in Mard's basketball hoop

Patrick (facing away), Adam (catcher's mask) and Kobie (a Coke and a Lacrosse stick)

These three were all born in 1988

A Difficult Day

Warning: this post may contain painful subject matter.

It was a surreal experience to be sitting in a waiting room of the Springfield Police Department reading "Little Ways to Keep Calm and Carry On: Twenty Lessons for Managing Worry, Anxiety and Fear," which I had found among Adam's belongings 15 days earlier.

We had been uplifted by the kind people at "Ds  Auto Plaza" (as in Dee's) an hour earlier when we went to pay off Adam's 2009 Chevy Impala yesterday. The owner, D, shepherded us into his office amid condolences and positive words when we announced we were Adam Tuttle's parents. D kept saying, "He was my man, a model customer" and expressing his shock and disappointment at this young man ending his life. He showed us his payment history reiterating how he wished he had more customers like Adam. He had helped Adam trade in his water/flood damaged Audi and purchase the Impala. At one point he answered his cell phone, telling the other party, "I have a situation, I am having some fellowship." He asked if he could keep the obit I had brought to prove Adam was dead. Several other employees told us how nice and polite Adam was when coming in every month early to make his payments in cash.

Now we are waiting for the detectives to decide if we can view any of Adam's last effects (note, journal, cell phone). The Springfield PD could not have been any nicer to these parents arriving at 3:30 p.m. on a Friday afternoon to try to get some answers to an unanswerable question. When we entered the otherwise deserted building a man in a suit asked if he could help and we explained why we were there. Turns out he was head of investigations and accompanied us upstairs to the above mentioned waiting room while he scouted around for our detective, whose name we had forgotten to bring. Another kind detective came out a few minutes later to let us know Det. Henson was out, but they would reach him by phone to find out how to proceed. It was explained that the items would not be released until after the Coroner's Inquest*, which is standard procedure. More nervous waiting, and a couple of updates later, a third detective, a tall, young man entered the waiting room clutching a couple of photocopied pieces of paper. He tried to prepare us and offered to make a copy of "the note" and send us home to read it, but I insisted on looking then and there, which I'm sure he was anxious about our reaction to.

In two pages of Adam's deteriorating chicken scratch, it was clear that Bella was on his mind as he wrote, "she isn't worth it," "she kind of used me" and other references to this being his last day. Keep Calm and Carry On was struggling with What the Fuck in my mind. There was clearly a decline in his handwriting and mental state as the note progressed, with alcohol playing a role as well. We read what we could and handed the letter back. The nice young man with the arduous job of delivering this note, again offered his condolences with true empathy. There will be time after the inquest to decipher and digest it more fully if we so choose. For now, I have the answers I need.

For the first time this morning, my thoughts go to, what if I had called him that Saturday, even if he didn't answer. Maybe I could have interrupted his downward spiral and got him to think outside of himself-you know, the Butterfly Effect (one of his favorite movies, by the way). That answer will not be so easy to come by.

* A Coroner’s Inquest is an inquiry into the manner and cause of an individual’s death, conducted by the Coroner or Deputy Coroner with a court reporter and six jurors present. The jurors are citizens of the county in which the death took place.

The purpose of an inquest is to present  information concerning the victim’s death in order for the jury to determine the cause and manner of a death. The cause of death is often readily apparent and obvious, based on the facts, circumstances, medical evidence and in some cases, toxicology and autopsy results. The real essence of the jurors’ responsibility is to establish the manner of death (Suicide, Homicide, Accident, Natural or Undetermined).

Sister-Mother

Uncle Kevin, Uncle Mike, Uncle Tim, and Uncle Chris all had special relationships with Adam, as he was the doted-on first nephew or niece in both families for about 5 years. But the deepest relationship was clearly with my sister Betsy. I think an early story illustrates this point perfectly. In 1991, when Adam was 3, my parents drove to Buffalo to visit and then take Adam back to Macomb and on to Omaha for an extended vacation. I was having some personal issues I'm not sure my family was fully aware of, but this plan would buy me some time to secure housing (I had suddenly become homeless).

On the way to Macomb (after getting several exits down the interstate and returning for "blankie"), my parents drove to Louisville, KY to visit Betsy and Chuck. I was told Adam was a bit disoriented, and in the dusky evening light, Betsy came outside to greet them, and Adam said, "You look just like my mommy." I think this cemented their closeness in his mind, as it was probably his first time away from me.

Betsy, Blankie, Adam

Over the years, their bond grew as we visited back and forth often, despite the distances. She never forgot a birthday or holiday, and made special efforts after Adam's brothers were born to single him out for attention and notice. Aunt Betsy had a special bag of dinosaurs at her house that was always the first thing Adam would ask to play with. She planned fun activities and projects to entertain him. Adam was always first even as he grew up and grew apart in many ways. Betsy always made sure to personally invite Adam home to Macomb when she visited and traveled to him if he couldn't make it if only to eat lunch, go shopping or have a short talk. Betsy is the only family member besides Calvin to have slept at Adam's apartment in Springfield, and she traveled to Springfield just last November and had lunch at one of Adam's favorite Indian restaurants.

I know Adam's death has been excruciatingly hard on her, especially as she tried to be strong for me, when her heart was breaking for the little boy she loved so well.

Beast Mode

After a few days back at work, I realize I am still in an emotional minefield. There are so many layers to what has happened, with more being revealed as time goes on. However, I have been churning around some thoughts that need to come out.

*break to get a cup of coffee*

You have probably wondered like I used to, how anyone could remain standing, let alone function efficiently when losing a child (or anyone close really, but especially a child of any age). I certainly did. All I can say is that something took over me (besides coffee) and I was a machine, a beast in overdrive. Decisions came quickly and easily, although I consulted Pat on almost every move. 

Here are some early tips, if you will, or ways I coped:

• Keep pens everywhere and one notebook and write everything down (lists, your thoughts, feelings, ideas for thank you notes, phone calls, numbers)
• Don't even think about wearing mascara for a few months
• Dress comfortably (I wore the same cozy sweater day after long day)
• Take care of your partner, treat each other gently
• Don't feel bad if you don't cry, don't feel bad if you do cry, don't feel bad if you laugh, don't feel bad if you experience joy again. Let your emotions flow. There are no wrong responses.
• Use social media if you are comfortable doing so to say the things you wouldn't put in the newspaper. I use it to connect to my support system and to reach out to Adam's friends. I learn more about him everyday.
• Other people: Let them know it's okay to cry, even if they didn't know your loved one. I've been on that side and know how hard it is to approach a grieving person as I wrestled with my own emotions.

A New Day

Today is very cold, but clear, sunny and bright. I saw my first live cardinal on the way home from some errands. I love you, Adam. I am finding strength I never knew I had. I wanted to share a few more thoughts about Before and After.

Before
Planning Eli and Hannah's wedding with the kids and Brenda on 1/31/16.

Having kind of a down day 2/1/16 and seeing a meme to the effect of "Be happy to be alive. Some people don't have this opportunity." Note to self (literally): "I'm happy to be alive."

A Land's End catalog I was reading, left open on the table, while I ate lunch 2/2/16.

An umbrella on my chair in my office 2/2/16. It was raining that morning.

Discussing lunch plans 2/2/16 for Little Saigon with a co-worker when we attend a workshop in Springfield on March 11.

Losing my pocket calendar.

Using humor to cope with situations.


After:
Finding solace in putting things in their place, cleaning up, writing thank you notes.

Asking for help and receiving and accepting it.

Signing letters/cards as a family for the first time without Adam's name.

Planning Eli and Hannah's wedding in a way that we'll remember Adam and save his place, yet not diminish the joy of this special union. It breaks my heart that I was told that Adam had been in to be fitted for his tux. He was to be the first groomsman after Cal, the best man.

Realizing that nothing that important was lost with my calendar. The important things on it, I will remember.

Waking in the middle of night restless and writing. Making it through a few nights and writing this entry during normal hours.

Being less worried about and more generous with money, leaving bigger tips.

Cooking for the first time 2/13/16- mushroom and cheese omelet, whole wheat toast.

Staying connected with my husband.

Still not reading a book.

Finding a half drank Diet Pepsi in the refrigerator and not knowing when I drank the first half of it.

Starting to exercise again 2/9/16.

Using humor to cope with life and death.

Truly feeling happy to be alive.

Raw Emotions

As things and life adjust to the "new normal" I want to share my first thoughts after hearing of Adam's death. This was written in a hotel room in Bloomington-Normal the night of the day that everything changed. I went to work today and went all day without crying, and it almost feels disrespectful to his memory. So here goes:

How many did times did I play this scenario out or wonder how anyone could go through such a thing? Not what I thought would happen in the middle of a counseling session on a Tuesday at 2:30 p.m. on 2-2-2016.

Now here I sit on the floor of the bathroom in a hotel in Blo-No feeling less connected to my emotions than I did when a friend's child died of suicide or overdose. I truly thought the first bad thing to happen to me would be my dad dying. There's a weird feeling that I brought this on by imagining what it would be like to lose a child in the past.

I'm glad we came here to be with the boys who have never experienced a trauma either. We are a solid unit and my biggest fear is that he felt on the outside of that. He was my best boy (just a nickname I gave him as a baby). He was in my life longer than anyone outside of my mom, dad, brother and sister. His favorite movie as a two year old was "Bull Durham" (he loved the Clown Prince of Baseball), which Pat coined his nickname "Nuke" from. He loved the Ninja Turtles, Hey Arnold, Terminator 2, and the various Star Trek series as he got older. Well, technically Pat let him watch T2 when he was 3 and he was enamored of it. One of the first presents Pat got Adam was the "30 dollar gun" (water of course). This was the opposite of the way Bill and I had tried to raise Adam with regard to violence. Since we had a "no gun" policy up until we split up, Adam once resorted to chewing his toast into the shape of a gun. I disgress...

This has not sunk in. It comes and goes, the disbelief and numbness vs. emotion. I don't think I have let go yet. Bill actually put it well tonight when he said it was difficult for Adam to be Adam. He said he knew was troubled for a long time. I think Adam could have used writing to process his emotions and perhaps he did, but it wasn't enough.

We had a good year. More visits, better talks, shared books (he got me into Stephen King: 11-22-63, Dr. Sleep). Why this day? Why now? Why did he have to do this? Why couldn't he ask for help?

Signs

We are all getting signs. On the way home from Blo-No Wednesday morning Pat and I saw an eagle flying low over a field on route 136. If that wasn't him, at least I knew he was flying free and watching over me.

Cal was watching a game Wednesday night with a friend(s) with sound muted (standard Denecke-Tuttle procedure) when Cal said to Elena, "I'd like to listen to music." For about five seconds the volume on the TV flipped on to play music from a commercial.

On Thursday on the way home from Springfield with boxes of Adam's stuff in the van, Pat was talking about finding the Raptor's ball he bought Adam before we moved to Macomb at a Raptor/Bulls game, with Michael Jordan's comeback team. Adam was enamored of the ball and apparently stared it instead of watching the game. As Pat is telling me this story, we hear frantic beeping from one the boxes, one of Adam's bazillion watch alarms was going off! Adam wanted the story told at his memorial service. He continued to comment through the watch alarms on the way home, letting us know when he approved of what we were saying.

I had been thinking back over the last time I communicated with Adam which was by email. We talked about the 2 dragon coins from my mom's house I had found in a box in the basement I wanted to give him. He was excited that I now had one to give him (I wasn't sure I had the original one my parents had given me for Adam the year he was born). It was bugging me that I had actually deleted my emails very recently and I couldn't read the messages and find out the date I last heard from him. Over the weekend, something messed up my email, and I shut everything down on my computer and when I restarted the next day, my email came back in Safe Mode. All my messages were back, and I could see that I sent him a message on 1/29/16 that he didn't reply to. The conversation about the dragons took place on Sunday January 24th.

A quick trip to the attic to retrieve Adam's box of baby memorabilia revealed that I had the original dragon coin plus now the two from my parent's house. I was able to give Eli, Cal and Ethan each one before the memorial service. For those not familiar, these coins are housed in beautiful silk covered boxes with tiny bone fasteners. They were purchased in China in 1988 before my parents and sister returned from their year of teaching in Sichuan Province.Perfect.

Illinois State beats Witchita State on Saturday after the service. Go Redbirds!

Denver wins the Superbowl (Adam's birthplace). Go Broncos!

Eli told me his first day back to student teaching (2/8/16) the junior high band was playing a piece called "Year of the Dragon." He had his dragon coin in his pocket.

Celebrating the Life of Adam 2-6-16

I went to bed smiling for the first time in five nights last night. I woke again around 2:15 a.m. crying. That's how it goes.

Friday night was a Vick-Tuttle-Denecke-Porter night to remember. Excellent food, Mom. Many memories, stories, love, music, and dare I say, alcohol passed around. I am pleased to have keep my 16+ years sobriety in tact, and could find patience and humor with those who chose otherwise. Grief has many different effects on people. I will have to say my parents made the right move taking their old piano to their new home, as it put Adam's father Bill at ease and reminded me what first attracted me to him. Ethan and Bill jammed the blues on the piano: Bill, Eli and Hannah freestyled "I'll Fly Away" on piano, ukelele, and trumpet; and Bill played and sang a heartfelt  "Your Song" by Elton John.

Adam's memorial service was more perfect than I could hope. An outpouring of love, stories, hugs, food, plants, flowers, tears, and professionalism was sincerely felt. Thank God for Uncle Tim, Uncle Kevin, Uncle Chris, Aunt Betsy, Grandpa Vick, Tim Yu, Ashleigh Lockhart, and Pat's guts, emotions, insight, intelligence, and willingness to share the Adam they knew. The music was freaking out of this world (Bill, Jordan and Ethan you have gifts most of wish we had a fraction of). Everything came together with divine intervention (thank you Adam and God) from the slideshow Eli and I put together to the food spread Brenda laid out for us.

The weather was gorgeous, yet time and temperature read -99 degrees (hilarious Adam) and ISU beat Witchita State (Cal thanks you). I have to hand it to you, Adam, your timing was impeccable.

Everything Changed

When I can't sleep, I write. When I don't know what to do, I write. At 2:30 p.m. on 2-2-16 my life split in half. It's now before and after that moment. That patient in the chair across from me will be etched in my story forever when I walked out of that room to my husband in the waiting room breaking down, completely breaking down. Like I've never seen and never hope to see again.

My son, my beautiful son, my best boy was gone. He died of suicide. We went straight to our two other boys.

Adam Nicholas Vick Tuttle, 27, of Springfield, IL formerly of Macomb passed away at his home February 2, 2016 in Springfield, IL.  He was born June 11, 1988, the Year of the Dragon, in Denver, CO to William C. Tuttle and Susan A. (Vick) Denecke. They both survive.

Also surviving are his stepfather, Patrick Denecke of Macomb; two brothers, Cal and Eli Denecke both of Normal, IL; maternal grandparents, Richard and M. Anne Vick of Macomb; paternal grandparents, Gary and Colleen Tuttle of Springfield, NE; and grandmother,  Ellen Denecke of Buffalo, NY. With us today are his beloved aunts and uncles Kevin Tuttle, Mike Tuttle and Julie Swearingen, Tim Tuttle, Chris and Donnamarie Vick, Betsy Vick and Charles Tackett, and his cousin, Ethan Tackett. His numerous other aunts, uncles and cousins are scattered from Maine to California to Australia and are with us in thought and spirit.

He was preceded in death by his grandfather Charles Denecke Sr.

Adam lived in Buffalo and Lockport, New York until the age of 8 when his family moved to Macomb. Adam, Shane, Derek and Justin formed a close neighborhood bond through elementary school. From a young age Adam had an instinct for the latest trends and seemed to be the first kid in Macomb with Under Armour, a Helio phone, and the fanciest paintball equipment. He wrestled from 3^rd through 10^th grade, often giving up 10-15 pounds due to his small stature. He played oboe in the band, earning first chair when the other two oboes didn’t show up for the tryout!

Adam graduated from Macomb High School in 2006, earning the distinction of “Most changed since freshman year.” He then attended Spoon River College obtaining an Associate’s Degree where he re-caputured his love of learning. He worked at the Old Dairy through high school and his years at Spoon. He then transferred to the University of Illinois at Springfield and graduated with a BA in Psychology in 2011. He completed an internship at the National Alliance on Mental Illness of Illinois offices.

Adam worked at Kiku and Little Saigon restaurants in Springfield for the past five years. Adam enjoyed music, literature, Asian food, fantasy football, the NBA, and debating any topic. He loved traveling, especially to Riverside Lakes to visit his Tuttle grandparents or on road trips with his Vick grandparents. He loved a good Hot Pot, crab legs, lobster, Oreo shakes, and other “fine dining” experiences. Adam will be forever in our hearts. We’ll make it through these tough times, for you Adam.

Cremation Rites have been accorded.

Geezers in Technoland

My dad says I am not a geezer (by comparison) but I sure felt like one on Friday January 15th when Pat and I took the plunge and subscribed to Netflix. It's supposed to be so EASY, right? And so CHEAP. It was all going swell as I signed up online, made another account and password that I will never be able to access again, and proceeded to a page whereby I had to select what I would be watching Netflix on. The choices were things like Smart TV, tablets, phone, Xbox, Playstation, Wii and a bunch of other crap I never heard of. Now I think my TV is pretty smart (it has HD, Dish, DVR, Primetime recording, etc), but I was pretty sure it wasn't Smart, but I marked that and tablet anyway, because those were the closest to anything I have. I then  had to select what type of shows and movies I like. After choosing Making a Murderer, Orange is the New Black and Breaking Bad, I silently hoped the FBI wasn't monitoring my computer.

When Pat got home I told him the good news, that we are now the proud parents of a Netflix account, but I wasn't sure how to make it appear on our (dumb) TV. He thought all we needed was a cord to connect a tablet to the TV and we would be in business. Our $9.99 per month fee was already climbing, but a cord couldn't be that much. He was off to Radio Shack since they are supposed to know something about what they are selling and pretty soon in he comes with something called a Roku. At a cost of $86.00. Okay, this Netflix thing is starting to add up, eh?  At this point I remember my friend Sharon showed me her Roku and she doesn't even have cable because she gets all the movies and shows she wants for free with Roku. Pretty good deal, huh?

Pat gets the Roku plugged into the TV and starts trying to manipulate the on screen menu with the clicker and nothing is happening. After a few minutes he decides to call Radio Shack (they said he could!). First he talks to a chick who asks if he has the batteries in (yes) and then tries to get him to push an invisible button on the back of the clicker. He eventually asks for the guy who sold him the Roku, cause guys know so much more. The guy tells him there's a button on the back of the clicker and he still can't find it, but in all the fumbling around he suddenly gets the menu to come up on the TV. So we are okay (for now). Next is some yelling back and forth between me at the computer and him at the TV in the other room shouting passwords and usernames from one room to the next with our geezer hearing problems.

I'm not sure what the next problem was, but it necessitated another call to Radio Shack, some swearing and more sweating. Finally, an hour or two later, $100 poorer, and on the edge of divorce, we are watching our first show. And after a weekend of binge watching Making a Murderer, and cuing up for OITNB, I can actually say it was worth it. I think.

Retirement Living

I guess no one wants to move one step away from a nursing home, but there comes a time in our grandparents, parents, and (shudder) our lives when difficult decisions must be made. I'm grateful a nudge became a voluntary decision by my parents to move into a retirement village (being surrounded by old people "geezers" is something they never wanted to do). In my eyes, this was wiser than being forced into a nursing home prematurely because of a broken leg or hip.

Two events conspired (possibly three) to prod this move earlier this fall. My mom fell down the stairs (one of two flights in their home of 19 years), luckily only bruising her tailbone. And my parents long time cleaning lady 'disappeared.' The third event was last year's hospitalization and my dad's long recovery at home. As both bedrooms are on the second floor, this required careful planning for my dad to minimize his stair climbing in order to be given his intravenous antibiotics twice a day (lovingly referred to as his 'egg') for over six weeks. Both my parents managed this amazingly well, and dad even recovered to the point of riding his stationary bike again.

The new one level home includes all the maintenance, appliances, your choice of carpet and wall color, utilities, huge garage, and even cleaning once a week and breakfast if you want to trek over to the dining room. They will even hang your pictures or your television on the walls. Don't like the shelving or need another outlet? Included. Boom. I don't think mom is exactly buying it when we all say, "We want to move in here!" But seriously, it's just a whole lot easier and safer. While it may not spark joy at this time, having access to all levels of care will ease future transitions and be more convenient if mom and dad's needs differ in the future.

They said they are doing it for us kids, but if they really hate it? Pat is only 4 months away from qualifying to live there, and me, a mere 2 years.