06/24/2014

   What was this great secret that was to finally move me to give up my anger? After all, it was an anger that I had carried for so long that it felt to me like I had always been angry. It seemed like it was the only true emotion I knew-that it was all that was allowing me to keep putting one foot in front of the other, as if it had become the driving energy of my life. I was afraid that if I stopped feeling anger, I would instead feel nothing at all. That worried me more than being angry. At least anger seemed to keep me going. It prompted me to keep fighting for justice for my son and his friends in court, and to keep looking for ways to honor my son's life and memory.

   Alongside the anger, there was another thought always at the forefront of my mind: why had my son had to die so young? Gradually, as I pondered this question and my mind went back over some of the conversations we'd had with other people, I remembered the words of one of the young Mormon missionaries who had ministered to us in those early days of our journey, "Your son's mission on this earth was done. It was his time to go home." When I first heard those words, I didn't want to accept them. That was not a good enough reason for my son to leave us! But as time has gone by and my wife and I have discussed this concept many times, and I've learned about other people's experiences, I've come to believe with all my heart that every person has a mission on this planet and a time given to accomplish that mission. I know that to some people that must sound like the rationalization of a grieving father desperately trying to make some sense out of a senseless situation, and perhaps it is, but to me it's the only explanation that makes any sense at all. My son had a mission. He had fulfilled that mission even though he was only 14 years old. His time on Earth was done. It was time for him to go home. Am I totally at peace with this notion? No, of course not. I would still much rather have my son here with us, but I am enough at peace with it that I've been able to release the anger that was poisoning my life and replace it with what I believe Curtis had learned as part of his mission here. I believe that, while I still don't understand everything about why my son died so young, God has chosen to give me a small glimpse into the secret that Curtis discovered-that what we are here to learn is love-how to love ourselves, how to love others, how to allow others to love us, and how to love our God. In short, that life is love, and love is life. How did he learn that in only 14 years?