08/07/2013

   One of the most gut-wrenching moments of this entire experience came when Carly, our 10-year old daughter, approached her brother's casket. She had been a little rock through this whole ordeal. She had insisted on being a part of everything no matter what it was or how she was feeling at the moment. My wife and I were so caught up in our own emotions and all the details that had to be handled, that I'm afraid we sometimes momentarily lost sight of what our surviving children, Casey and Carly, were also experiencing-the loss of their brother. Carly, in particular, again insisted on being part of everything. She didn't want to miss anything about saying goodbye to her precious Curtis. She leaned over Curtis's casket, bent down and kissed his forehead. I was astonished that she had been able to do that. So many people shy away from any kind of physical contact with the deceased person as if death was contagious or a touch would somehow bring the person back to life or somehow desecrate their body. To Carly, this was just her beloved brother. She was not going to let him leave her without a kiss goodbye. I felt toward Carly what people had been saying about my wife and I, and would continue to say for many days and weeks to come-how strong we were. In fact, I would hear those words repeated many times over the next few hours as people filed by Curtis's casket to pay their respects. Strange, I didn't feel particularly strong at all, but if my 10-year daughter could behave that way during this most horrible time of her young life, how could I do any less? More people were beginning to arrive. I still had no idea how many people would be coming to support us and pay their respects to our dear son, but as the evening wore on, I found myself gaining strength from each person I greeted. I was not standing by the power of my own strength. It was as if the positive energy and love they all carried with them was being transferred to me. I don't think I could have endured the evening otherwise.