January 3, 2014
We had our first Shabbat dinner since that terrible day. Laughter and tears as we shared memories. Speaking of Jake in the present rather than the past helped and hurt both at the same time. Helped because we can’t yet fathom he not still with us, hurt because we know we will never see him again.
This is from Lauren:
Who needs you more than we do, Jake? You make us pay attention to details. You are a mirror of our joy and craziness (which can be joy, too!). Even the Flavors miss you.
Is that Jake’s spirit in the little flock of white crowned sparrows that just flitted through our yard? Or is it jut a bunch of birds?
Anne: You just don’t know, and that’s the beauty and the terror of it. In several mythologies across the world, birds act as vessels for souls.
Dee: When my godfather was eulogized this past spring, the priest expressed the following: Just as we wait impatiently to see our child for the first time, when we lose someone, we wait impatiently to see them again. Before we are born, we exist, but not yet of this world; there exists a barrier through which our parents can feel us pressing. After a loved one passes and are no longer of this world, a different sort of barrier exists; and though it is a spiritual rather than physical barrier, we can just as easily and frequently feel them pressing against it. Just as it was before birth, it is after death: the sure and certain knowledge that they are still there, listening, hearing, loving; and the sure and certain knowledge that one day we will see them again. The hard part is the waiting. Until then, we must learn how to breathe. This brought me great comfort, and I hope it brings the same to you and Terry. So yes — I do believe that Jake’s spirit is there with you, in a flock of birds or in the way the wind blows across your skin. He is there.
It has been a week since we received the terrible news. Only 7 days yet it seems a lifetime ago. And in fact, a week ago, I was living a very different life. We are in a whirlwind of emotions. The caring and sharing of our beloved friends and family help hold some of those emotions at bay for a moment, but our lives going forward will be completely different than those of just a few days ago. The world will never be the same for us, and now we have to learn how to live in this grayer, darker world.
Saturday, January 4, 2014. 10:00 AM
Exactly one week ago, right about this time of day, our beloved son, Jake slipped quietly away from us. What shall we do without him?
Last night our home was once again filled with the warmth of friends and family. It is as if each person is trying to take a tiny bit of our sorrow away from us, and for this we are deeply grateful. But there is an unending fountain of sorrow within me that constantly replenishes this bottomless pool of longing. Perhaps one day we will be able to slow the flow, but the pool will never be empty.
Originally posted on Facebook January 4, 2014