On Grief

People deal with grief differently. I write.

It's been a rough month, frankly. There have been lots of mornings I didn't want to even get out of bed, didn't want to remember, didn't even want to think about what the day would look like without Jerry. And yet ... there is something incredibly healing in being able to say his name, in being able to write about the awesome young man he was, in being able to see pictures and videos of Jerry being Jerry. I think, perhaps, the hardest part personally was giving myself permission to grieve. You see, Jerry was not my son -- but he was so much a part of our lives, he certainly might as well have been! He's present in too many Facebook photos to count; he's in a third of my profile pics and cover photos; he's been at my house and in my youth group and under foot since forever (Kindergarten). I felt like he was mine. But he wasn't really. And it's been hard to give myself permission to grieve. What right do I have?! Well, he was mine. And this is how the grief process works for me.

I write.

So, I thought maybe I could gather some of this month's Facebook writings here together on this blog. Maybe it will make more sense as a whole. Maybe it will just make sense to me. Ah well.





April 20, 7:54 p.m.
Prayers please for a dear child!

April 20, 11:58 p.m.
Cyril kids, the pastors in town will be available at school tomorrow morning. Most of us, Rachyl and Jaxom included, plan to be there tomorrow. Shoulders to cry on and shoulders to hug. Missing our Sparklez for sure.



April 21, 6:46 a.m.
We all grieve differently. Me, I write. Woke this morning (if you can call this awake) with a gaping chasm in my heart. I may not have given birth to this boy, but he was my son nonetheless. Lots of moms feeling this way in Cyril today. And one more than the rest, more than we can say, we love you, Kristi.

April 23, 10:03 a.m.
Ohana; never forgotten. — with Rachyl Carlson. "Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten." -Lilo



April 25, 9:11 a.m.
Your presence and support much appreciated this morning as we try to say goodbye to Jerry Lewis. If you are available, join us at the gym at 10. — feeling heartbroken.

April 25, 1:49 p.m.
Blue sparkle roses for our Sparkles today. Class of 2019 Ohana. (Thanks, Kenzie Grace and Tina R Young.)



April 25, 8:18 a.m.
This morning, I'll be at worship with my church family, for the first time without Jerry. There will be smiles and tears, likely at the same time. I would greatly appreciate your prayers this morning.


(Our youth group, last Youth Sunday.)

April 25, 10:05 p.m.
It was good to sit in a circle of friends this evening. We need each other, for sure. Love you, Delbert, Christine, Kristi, Jason, Rachyl, Haley, Kenneth, Jaxom, Rilee, huge hugs to all!!!!

April 29, 7:19 a.m.
Woke exhausted this morning. Need strength just to make it to school today.
"I know I'm not strong enough to be everything that I'm supposed to be. Hands of Mercy, won't you cover me, Lord, right now I'm asking you to be strong enough."

April 29, 11:17 a.m.
Missing Jerry like crazy today. This pic is from last year's dance recital. How I miss this face! Each day, it seems, is full of more moments.
Like this pic: he HATED sitting through dance recital! But put up with it because that's what family does. It's hard for Rachyl and Jaxom right now without this guy they call brother.
I know she would love to have family and friends come support her Friday evening at Dance Recital. Ohana means everything.



May 11, 4:23 p.m.
A moment, frozen in time. The auditorium, full of antsy students and eager parents. The room suddenly hushed, breaths collectively held, all eyes turned toward the podium. Behind the microphone, her voice tremulous but strong, the young mother shared a gift with a class of 8th graders - her kids - minus one very important young man. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence of the moment. A hug for each precious soul, a sparkly cross in memory of her Sparklez, a connection few will understand. A moment, a stillness, a memory, but a reminder that Jerry Lewis will always be with us. I don't know how you measure strength, but here in Cyril, our strength is family. ‪#‎sparklesmonday‬

May 18, 8:07 a.m.
‪#‎sparklezmonday‬
Dumbledore: Still?
Snape: Always.


So, how can I explain the depth of my grief? Words fail. I miss you, Jerry Eugene Rath Lewis. Always.

Basketball Boy

My son only plays basketball because I make him. That's what he tells everyone, and it's actually the truth. In their elementary school, the 4th-6th graders play basketball during this time of the year. If the kids choose not to participate on the basketball team, they end up sitting through all of gym class. Well, I figure he does enough sitting during the rest of his day; he needs to be up and active during gym class. So, yes, I make him play basketball.

The hardest part of playing basketball, for him, is that the rest of the boys in his class are incredibly talented. It's like they were born with athletics in their genes. They live and breathe sports. So my son doesn't get to play in the games for very long (although his coach is awesome and lets every boy have some minutes of playing time in every game).

Last night, though, my son got plenty of playing time. The team was ahead by a ridiculous number of points. (I think the final score ended up being something like 45-8.) And somehow, something in my son's brain finally clicked. He actually took 3 shots -- something he's NEVER done in a game before.

And he actually MADE a BASKET! In fact, it was the final basket of the game, though it wasn't a "buzzer-beater" or anything fantastic like that.

I was probably the most excited person in the stands at that point. I'm so proud of him. He's stuck with it, and improved as a player, even though he really doesn't like playing basketball. And that makes me proud of him as a person.

A great basketball book: Summer Ball by Mike Lupica