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Always Moving Forward
National Survivors of Suicide Day
was Saturday the 21st. That must mean I've survived another year. It hasn't
been easy, this path forward I must take. I keep doing it, though, for my
sons. Because they believed.
Survivor. It's a word we hear
often. What does that word really mean? Is it getting out of bed every day,
when you'd rather hide under the bed like you did as a child? Is it not eating
because you are so used to being empty that you don't realize you're hungry, or
maybe eating too much, trying to fill the void? Does it mean that you got
dressed, brushed your teeth, combed your hair? There isn't an answer to that
question. Everyone survives differently, just as everyone grieves
differently.
I took another step on the
survivorship path today. It was a far from easy step, one I knew I had to
take. It was also another step in believing that Rick isn't coming
home.
I am blessed to have an unusual
and eclectic family (though sometimes I wonder if "blessed" is the proper
word!). There were a few musical instruments that had been handed down the
generations in my sons Other Father's family. Rick played the piano
beautifully. He really wanted that 200 year old piano that sat in his
Grandmother's living room.
She was very wise, his
Grandmother. She knew the expense involved in its upkeep. She knew that it was
almost impossible to keep it in tune. She knew that it took 8 grown men to move
it, because they evidently made it out of stone. So she got rid of it in one of
her periodic "housecleaning's" (the sofa I loved so went in a housecleaning,
too).
Rick was truly devastated. To
him, the loss of the piano signified more than the loss of a musical
instrument. It meant that maybe she didn't really consider him her Grandson
after all. Seeing his broken heart, she told him that she had something else
for him, something easier to carry around. He'd just have to learn how to play
it.
It was an old fiddle. The story
behind that fiddle is immaterial now. The import of it was that she gave it to
Rick. He was very proud, and determined to learn to play it. She kept it at
her house for "safekeeping" until Rick finished med school and had time for
it.
After Rick died, the fiddle went
on a shelf in the closet. That isn't where a fine, exquisite musical instrument
belongs. It is meant to be played. A lot of Rick's time was spent in overseas
ministry. He went to Sweden and built houses as a teen. He went to the
Honduras, to Haiti, to the Philippines... he went a lot of places, helping
others.
I met a young couple named Ford
and Melissa who are traveling missionaries, only that's not what they call it
now. As with everything else in this world, there is a fancy name for it.
Their focus is on helping oppressed women and children, a cause close to my
heart. Ford plays the fiddle. It's how he reaches young people.
So, today, I gave that fiddle to
Melissa for Ford, after I told her about Rick, about how he and Jason gave away
lots of things to help others, about their remarkable lives, and their tragic
deaths to a disease called suicide. It's something that Rick would have
wanted. Ford wasn't there today. He was ministering at a Surf Competition on
the beach. It seemed especially appropriate, giving it to Melissa while Ford
was surfing. As most of you know, Rick and J were both certified Open Water
Lifeguards. I like to believe they were watching that Surf Competition
today.
In the past year I've learned that
there IS love and light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes it takes what seems
like forever to find it. But that love and light, when you open yourself to it,
brings with it a gently healing rain. The wounds will never close, but they can
lessen. That light in my tunnel let me take a step forward today. Giving
something so prized by my son to someone else was another admission that he
isn't coming home. They're painful, some of those steps forward. They are also
healing and rewarding. My sons legacy will yet live on. Through his
instrument, Ford will touch and save young lives.... something Rick did his
entirely too short lifetime.
May you find your light shining in
your tunnel, helping you move forward steadily with both tears and laughter.
May you find the beauty in a storm and hear the melody in seeming discord. Open
your hearts and your minds to that light. Walk good, be blessed, and remember
that Angel wings always surround you.
Maximum respect,
Brenda Adkins, always Red's & Red Man's Mom https://www.theovernight.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=extranet.personalpage&confirmid=10013449 Life isn't the party I'd hoped for, but I'll dance anyway, because my sons believed I would. Jason August 5, 1974 - May 7,
2000
Rick August 5, 1974 - August 16, 2002 found August 24, 2002 You may not think the world needed you, but it did. For you were unique: like no one that has ever been before or will come after. No one can speak with your voice; say your piece; smile your smile; or shine your light. No one can take your place for it was yours alone to fill. Because you are not here to shine your light, who knows how many travelers will lose their way as they try to pass by your empty place in the darkness I miss you, Andy. Kick their butts for me, please. http://www.runningwiththewind.com/
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Running With The Wind
2008 Walk, Here is the story