Saturday, November 30, 2013

11/30/2013

   As time went by in our journey and milestones were reached and surpassed, life began to settle into our new "normal". Of course, our lives would never really be what they were before. How could they be? There was a constant, massive, unfillable space in our lives where Curtis had once been. In the early days, I had doubted that I could survive what we were being forced to endure. That feeling persisted off and on for the first several months. There was no great single moment of  enlightenment that changed that feeling. It was more a gradual realization that I was surviving day by day, moment by moment, milestone by milestone. I realize now that with every day that passed and every new challenge that we faced and overcame I got just a little bit stronger.  Enduring Curtis's first birthday, my first days back at work, all the first holidays without him, the court business, the counseling sessions, the day to day aspects of life without him, all served to strengthen my resolve to make Curtis proud. I couldn't let the man who had taken Curtis from us do any more damage to me or my family. It certainly helped when all the legal issues were done. I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders that day. The counseling sessions definitely helped, although at the time I didn't always feel that way. All the support we received from family, friends, colleagues, and even strangers served to remind us how many lives Curtis had impacted in his short life. Our sessions with the medium also brought me great comfort. The most important factor, however, in my survival comes down to one thing-love. Without the love of my amazing wife I'm pretty sure I would not be in the place I am today. She's an absolutely incredible woman. I realized that as horrible as life felt without Curtis, I could survive it because my wife loved me, and I loved her. We also had the love we felt for our surviving children and how important they were to us. They were suffering, too. How could I possibly do anything to make their lives even worse? There were many times that we actually just cocooned ourselves within that love and held on to each other for dear life as the storms raged around us. I don't mean to minimize all the support and love we received from the outside, but as we grieved we were constantly aware that as much as people tried to be there for us, they could not possibly truly understand what we were enduring as a family and as individuals. Only we knew that. It became very clear to me that only as long as we held onto that love and held on to each other could we survive this horrible journey.

Friday, November 29, 2013

11/29/2013

   I wasn't sure about all of this communicating with the dead business, but I was sure that I wanted to know our son was all right. We met the medium and settled in for our session. I was prepared to be very skeptical about the whole thing, which I'm sure colored how I received her first few comments. I won't go into the details of what we were told, but I heard enough things from the medium to begin to change my mind about the validity of this whole process. She was telling us things that she could not possibly have known from any other source except if she was talking directly to our son-details about our family, what kind of person Curtis was, what our house was like, what our family was like. I know many people say that with the internet people can find out just about anything they want to know about people nowadays, but this was information that no one else outside our immediate family could have possibly known. I thought later that maybe I heard things the way I wanted to hear them, since I was so desperate to hear positive information about my son, but since the session was recorded for us by the medium I have been able to listen to the tape several times over the years. I'm still amazed by what she was able to tell us, and I'm still convinced that she was communicating directly with our son. Once upon a time in my life I would never have been able to say that I believed in such things, but now it brings me comfort to know that my son is OK on the other side. If that makes me feeble-minded or a poor Christian, then so be it. The Bible itself is full of such kinds of stories. I don't know what has made modern society so arrogant as to think that  God could not or would not still choose to communicate with His people in this way and give this special ability to some of His children.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

11/28/2013

   Happy Thanksgiving to all! This is our 13th Thanksgiving without Curtis's physical presence. The first one back in 2001 was the most difficult. Everything about that first year was difficult. As time has gone by, things have gotten easier, including the holidays. I have much for which to be thankful this year. We are all doing well in all the areas of our lives. I wasn't sure back then that I would ever be able to say such a thing. I still cannot say I am thankful that Curtis was taken from us, but I have made a certain peace with it and have reached a certain level of acceptance that has enabled me to go on with my life as Curtis would have wanted me to do. Blessings to you all.

11/27/2013

   Our journey through this valley of grief sometimes led us in directions I never would have anticipated. One such experience came when we were guided to consult with a medium. I realize many people are skeptical of such things and some even feel they are downright evil and spiritually dangerous. For myself, I had never really put much stock in the clairvoyant abilities some people claimed to have, but enough unexplainable things had happened around us since Curtis's death that I was at least becoming more open to the idea of being able to communicate with people on the other side. We had experienced what I came to learn was some pretty common phenomena: lights going on and off, a feeling of Curtis's spirit being present in our house, the sound of footsteps upstairs when we knew no one (including our dog) was up there, the story from one of our neighbors that she had seen Curtis standing behind us when she was visiting us, other people telling us they had seen him, flashes of light showing up in photos of us that the photographers could not explain, my wife feeling Curtis put his arms around her like he had always done. I know to some of you this all probably sounds crazy, but I was really missing my son. If someone could communicate with him for us that was OK with me. Besides, the way this all came about was pretty mysterious in its own right. Carly was playing on a softball team at this time. Her coaches, of course, were aware of our situation, and one day one of them approached us. She explained to us that she had felt compelled to talk to us about something that was on her mind and heart, but hadn't known what to say or how we would receive her message. It seems that a friend of hers was a fairly well-known medium here in Southern California. The coach said that she had never talked with her friend about us-there was no reason to-her friend did not know us, and the coach didn't really know us, either, except through coaching Carly. One day, out of the blue, the coach's friend asked her if there was someone she knew who had recently experienced a grievous loss and was really struggling to cope. She said that the death involved a young man who had been killed in an auto accident. The coach thought of us immediately. She said that if we would be interested, she could put us in touch with her friend. We got the information and thought about this for a few days, and eventually decided to make an appointment for a reading. I still wasn't sure about all of this, but I  deeply wanted to know that my son was all right on the other side. I realize to some people this would indicate a lack of faith in God's promises, but at the time I was very angry with God. I really didn't much care whether God approved or not. In my mind, God had allowed something to happen in my life  of which I greatly disapproved- he had allowed my son to die. I didn't need His approval. If someone could bring me comfort through something like this that was OK with me.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

11/26/2013

   Another source of almost unbelievable comfort was very unexpected, at least by me. Some good friends of ours from the high school band boosters group were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Just days after the accident two of their missionaries showed up at our front door offering to help us in any way they could. We made it clear that while we appreciated their offer, we had no interest in converting to their faith, that we had our own beliefs and had no intention of changing. They, in turn, made it clear that that was not the intent of their presence. They only wanted to help ease our burden by helping out in whatever way we needed them to. They offered to mow our lawn, wash our cars, go to the market, clean up after our dog, listen to our grief, pray for us, etc. They came back to our house many times over those first few weeks when our pain threatened to overwhelm us. I really don't remember exactly what they actually did for us, but I do remember how comforting I found their presence. I came to believe that they had been sent to us by God to help us through those first horrible days. One thing in particular that they said to us during one of those visits has stuck with us through the years. My wife was saying how unfair it was that we would not get the chance to finish raising Curtis, how much it hurt to lose him before we saw him grow to manhood. One of the Mormon missionaries explained to us that it's part of their belief system that families are reunited in the afterlife and that we would indeed have the chance to finish raising our son. I'm not sure how that would work exactly, but the thought brought us a great deal of comfort and hope that maybe in heaven we would still be able to finish our job as parents. I know some people would scoff at such a notion, but for me it was the promise of a future where I would not just be reunited with my son, but I would be given the gift of being able to finish the job I felt had been cruelly cut short-the job of being Curtis's father.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

11/16/2013

     All during our difficult, and at times excruciating, walk through grief there were people who would lovingly and generously (often repeatedly) offer us solace in whatever form they could. There were the friends and family members who regularly called to check on us, the neighbors who continued to call on us and ask what we needed, the strangers who upon learning of our situation, offered God's blessings over us, our co-workers who continually tried to make our work lives easier in whatever way they could. There were also some things that we experienced only because of Curtis's death. For example, some dear friends of ours who happened to be of Native American ancestry offered to hold a sage-burning ceremony for us to cleanse our lives of any lingering negative energy. I can't honestly recall if I felt any different after the ceremony other than to say I did feel the love and concern that surrounded us that night. In a similar vein, I knew that there were countless people of faith praying for us on a continuing basis. Some Jewish friends of ours told us that they had placed a stone on Curtis's grave. One of the other families who had also lost a son in the accident told us that they believed Curtis had accepted the Lord shortly before the accident. One of our neighbors, who we hadn't known very well prior to all of this, assisted us by setting up a fund at a local bank where people could donate to the families to help with expenses. They also set up a website where people could gather information about our legal case and comment on the situation and helped us navigate through our dealings with the media. There were countless other people who came to our rescue, many of whom, I'm sure, I'm unaware of to this day. Whether I can recall the details or not, I do know how incredibly grateful I was then, and still am now, for what people did for us during those dark, dark days. For anyone who has never been in a situation like ours, I don't think they could possibly understand how much those loving acts of kindness meant to us, and how the memory of those acts continues to resonate with us today. It awes me still to realize how very loving and kind people can be toward each other.

Monday, November 11, 2013

11/11/2013

   When the judge asked the defendant to rise while he was pronouncing the agreed upon sentence, I wasn't sure what I would feel. As the judge was speaking, I felt mostly relief that this part of our journey was about to end. The man was remanded immediately to be taken to the local jail to begin serving the rest of his sentence. He was granted credit for time already served, but he still would have nearly two years left in custody. At least, that's what we thought. As things turned out, due to some of his chronic health issues being more than the authorities at the jail were able (or willing) to deal with,  the man's sentence was converted to house arrest with an ankle monitor. Again, I felt those by now familiar feelings of disbelief and outrage. Monitored or not, he would be at home with his family. If we wanted to spend time with our son we had to go to the cemetery. It just didn't seem fair. I knew, however, that this was testing my newfound sense of closure and freedom from this man's influence in my life. I fired off an e-mail to the DA's office to express my outrage and anger at this turn of events, but that was the extent of my response. Again, I did not want this man to have any kind of power over me anymore.
     With a couple of notable exceptions, we didn't really have to think of this man again. One of those exceptions actually mostly involved our daughter. Carly had been 10 years old when her brother was killed. Shortly after starting high school, she discovered that there was a student at the school with the same name as the man's son. At first we hoped it was just a horrible coincidence, but we soon found it was not. The man's son was a student ay my daughter's high school. To make things even worse, he was on the school football team and Carly was playing in the school band. This meant that Carly would have to see him playing football and hear his name announced over the PA system. She would have to see him occasionally in the halls laughing and joking with his friends, all the while trying to deal with the fact that she would never again be able to do those things with her brother. We realized, of course, that nothing about our situation was the son's fault, but it was just another thing that didn't seem fair. Hadn't our children been through enough already?  Why did our daughter have to have this flaunted in our face? It was an extremely uncomfortable situation for all of us, especially Carly.
    The only other time we heard anything about this man was on a Thanksgiving Day shortly after he had been granted house arrest. Apparently, he got into some kind of altercation with a brother-in-law and the police were called to the house. He was found to be in violation of the terms of his plea agreement and was sent back to jail to finish serving his remaining time. We did not hear anything more about that. I have no idea if he actually ever finished serving his time or not. It really no longer mattered to me what happened to him. His fate was not worth my wasting anymore time on him. I was done with him.
     It did feel good not to have to go to the courthouse anymore, although, as I mentioned earlier, I was summoned for jury duty just a few months after the conclusion of our case. As fate would have it, I actually got further along in the jury selection process than I ever had before (or ever have since). I made it into the jury box to be questioned by the judge and lawyers to determine my fitness to serve on the jury. When they got to the question about my ability and willingness to be impartial to both sides in the case, I paused and thought carefully about my response. For the first time in my life, I had to say that I could not be impartial at all. I was still too angry about how I felt we had been treated by the police and the courts-actually how we had been treated by the entire legal system. I told this to the judge and the lawyers. They seemed to be a little taken aback. The next thing I know, the judge calls for the lawyers to meet with him in his chambers. They were gone for about 20 minutes while we all sat in the courtroom and waited for them to return. I'm not sure what happened in the judge's chambers, but when they returned the judge told me that it was too soon for me to have to be back in court and that I was excused. Perhaps they had looked up our case in the court records. Whatever the reason, I was grateful to be excused. It had been extremely difficult for me to even drive to that building that morning, let alone have to be back in a courtroom. I've been summoned for jury duty a number of times since, but so far I've never again gotten that closing to actually serving on a case. If I never I have to enter that courthouse again, it will be fine with me.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

11/10/2013

   Thank goodness we had a core group of family and friends who supported us all through the court proceedings, many of whom were actually in the courtroom with us every time we had to attend. Finally, after many months of raised hopes and dashed expectations we were told that the DA's office had reached a plea agreement with the suspect and his lawyer. He was to plead guilty to three counts of misdemeanor vehicular manslaughter and serve one year in jail for each count. Was I satisfied with this arrangement? Not really, but I had long ago realized that no punishment was going to satisfy me because no punishment could do what I needed the most, which was to restore my son to me. At the very least we would no longer have to make those agonizing trips to court and see the man sitting there showing no emotion and seemingly unconcerned about what he had done to us. It meant that this particular chapter of our journey could be closed, hopefully for good. It also meant that on the day of sentencing we would have a chance to make victim impact statements which would be read into the official court records. Anyone who wanted to speak to the court could do so and the accused would have to hear how his actions that night had impacted all of us. Well, he would have to hear our words, whether he would really listen to us or not who knew? But, at least, well over a year since the accident, we would get the opportunity to finally speak directly to this person who had caused us so much anguish and changed our lives forever. I immediately began thinking about what I wanted to say to him and how I wanted to say it. I didn't want my message to get lost in the emotions of the moment, but I certainly wanted to try to make him understand what he had done to us. Where to begin? What do you say to someone who has done you such grievous harm? How do you make somehow like that understand what you have lost? I won't relate here what I actually said when the day finally came, except to say that I wrote a multi-page message that took several minutes to read to the court. I tried to explain what kind of person our son had been and why we felt such a keen sense of loss. At first, I didn't want to look at him, but by the time I finished I realized that I had to look him in the eye if he would allow me to. Throughout most of the time people were making their statements (and many people took this chance to speak, either directly themselves or have their messages read by others) his head was down, as if he was too ashamed to look at us. I suddenly realized that for far too long now, I had given this man far too much power over how I was living my life. Yes, what he had done had horribly changed my life forever, but I could not change that part now. Nothing would bring my son back to me. But I knew that Curtis would not want me to allow this man to continue to cripple my life. That would not honor my son's memory. I had to let him know by words and actions and attitudes that I was taking back control of my life from him. I no longer would let him have any place of importance in my life. He would not look up at me, however, but I knew that really didn't matter. I'd let him know, whether he listened or not, that I was done with him. After we had all had a chance to speak to the court, the judge asked him if he had anything to say before sentencing was pronounced. I remember he rose slowly to his feet, turned toward where we were sitting, and softly said, for the first time to our knowledge, that he was sorry and hadn't meant to harm us, it had been a horrible accident that he wished he could go back and change. I didn't know then, and still don't know now, if he meant he was sorry for what he had done to us, or just sorry he had made such a mess of his own life and those of his own family, but I remember feeling a huge weight being lifted off my shoulders. I didn't really care anymore whether he felt contrition or not, whether he was being honest or not. All of a sudden, those words I thought I had to hear come out of his mouth, those words I'd waited months to hear, no longer mattered. He no longer mattered. It was as if he didn't even exist anymore. When I left the courtroom that day I felt emotionally drained by the experience, but also triumphant-I had taken back at least a part of my life that had been under his control for too long.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

11/09/2013

   It became important to us that people know what we most wanted from the courts regarding our case, and it wasn't money. Several people had been asking us for information about what was happening in the case. Some had wondered if we would be suing the man who had caused the accident, especially since it was becoming less and less likely, in our opinion, that the criminal courts would grant us any kind of justice or satisfaction. Again, we tried to emphasize to people that money was not what we were after. We wanted the courts to punish the man as a way to validate that our precious son's life (and the lives of his friends) was valuable.  We wanted to send a message to the rest of the world that a person should not have the right to so cavalierly and carelessly drive a vehicle in a manner that results in the deaths of three innocent children without expecting severe consequences. This meant that we would have to experience some other situations we never thought we would have to face. In the immediate aftermath of the accident, we had been interviewed by TV and newspaper reporters. We saw ourselves on local news programs and in front page stories in our local newspaper. Now, we were part of a press conference, organized by a friend well-versed in the field of public relations, on the steps of the courthouse. The mothers of our lost children wanted the public, and the court officials, to know what we were enduring and what we really wanted. We also spent time contacting local and state political officials to gain information about what (if anything) could be done to change the laws which basically mandated that in an accident such as this where no drugs or alcohol had been involved the maximum penalty for the driver was one year in jail for each death. That was, of course, no certainty. It would ultimately be up to the judge or jury, depending on how the case would ultimately be adjudicated. As the months crawled by, we found it necessary to repeatedly show up at the courthouse.
Oftentimes, the Deputy District Attorney would tell us that we didn't have to attend if we were not up to it, but even if he felt nothing much of any importance was likely to happen, we still knew that we had to be there just in case. We had to represent our son who could no longer represent himself. It was difficult, extremely difficult, to have to walk into that courtroom time after time and see the man who had caused the accident, the man who had, accidentally or not, taken our son from us. When we knew that a court date was upcoming, I found myself becoming more and more agitated and stressed for several days leading up to the court day. (Some months after all of this court business was finally
resolved I returned to the courthouse for jury duty. All those old feelings bubbled back to the surface. It was all I could do to even enter the building. I wanted to run away screaming.) It also became unbelievably frustrating to have to put up with all the delays and legal maneuvers by the man's attorney. What kind of men were these? What kind of human beings were these? Hadn't they caused us enough heartache already? Why couldn't they just stand up like real men and face the consequences? Why did they have to drag us through all this crap? I found myself wanting to hurt them somehow. I began to feel some very ugly feelings and think some very dark thoughts. More than that, although I suppose we've all had such feelings and thoughts at some point over some situation in our lives,  for the first time in my life I actually feared that, if given the opportunity, I would actually be capable of bringing these frightful sensations to reality. That frightened me.