Dear Reed –
Sometimes your heart just simply knows how hard something will be, even long before it actually happens. Today, your 30th birthday, was that day. My heart was bracing for myself, but even more so for Dad, because since you have gone to heaven, Father’s Day has fallen a few times on your birthday. Once again, my heart broke into a million pieces for him.
He reminded me today after telling him how incredibly sorry I was that Father’s Day fell on your milestone birthday that he was okay, because you made him a dad and you were a really big deal in his life. Just writing that makes me cry all over again.
You were definitely our big deal, just like all of your siblings (biological and adopted) and now nieces, nephews, and soon-to-be niece or nephew are to us too. So much of our lives has wrapped around our biggest dream which was to be parents, that when we have these celebratory moments without you, we realize even more just how much we miss you.
Your other big deals have been doing big things themselves. Sawyer and Sydney were recently extras in the Life of Chuck movie. With your love of movies, you would have been one of the first in line to buy tickets just to say, “that’s my brother”! The girl who used to swoop around asking to have your and Sawyer’s hand-me-downs, now owns a boutique and is an amazing businesswoman and mom. You’d love her little girls, especially how one has freckles that remind me so much of yours. And your baby, who you doted on every time she made a peep, well now she’s making roars as an accounting intern on the top floor of a bank. I know you would be impressed with the view from her office.
It isn’t just in the big moments in life that we miss you, but in all the moments in between where we know you would have been celebrating with us too.
One of the first things I saw when I woke up this morning was this quote.
You are not the darkness you endured. You are the light that refused to surrender.
~John Mark Green
That darkness can be really powerful sometimes, soul-crushing, agonizingly gutting, and not wanting to get out of bed heavy. Just a couple days ago, an example would be choosing to buy a new Toothless toy for your gravesite because the other one now resembles that sweet dragon’s missing tail parts. But even while in the checkout, I felt darkness’s tentacles as I resisted having a meltdown because inside my heart was screaming, “This is so wrong. He’s turning 30. I should be buying him something for his grill or gift cards to take his wife out for supper. NOT. A. TOY to put next to his headstone.” Then my heart just goes numb for a while after those moments while the tormenting and tumultuous seas of sadness threaten to choke out any glimmers of peace.
But hope – courageous hope – continues to be a beacon in my life where light always comes after the darkness. Many times, for me, hope begins as a whisper until it crescendos as dramatic as a raging storm across a prairie sky.
After family Father’s Day breakfast at the lake and even as the pall of sadness clung in the damp air, we saw pinpricks of light starting to punctuate the darkness. We had message after message of love and support. Some so deeply touching, we are continually reminded how many lives your light touched. We had hugs both in person and virtual, phones, and reminders of how wonderful you are and how loved we are. We chose to do some of your favorite things and to remember you.
We had blizzards for lunch because you and ice cream for meals were synonymous. Then Dad and I went to see How to Train Your Dragon live action because I still remember the joy of having you read the book to me on our drive back from the Mayo Clinic after one of your eye appointments. Your laughter erupted with each page, and your joy was simply contagious. At times, I almost wanted to look at the chair next to me, half-expecting your fill-the-room smile looking back at me. In the middle of the dark theater, I still felt your light and the love of so many thinking and praying for us today.
Even though darkness found us and we have endured more than our fair share, we continue to just love – simply and extravagantly – because that is truly healing. But more so, I think it represents our lights that refuse to surrender. Because if grief is the last act of love, we will love you until our lights no longer shine and we love you too much to give up and let the darkness win. You were, are, and always will be our sunshine, and we’ll just keep on shining your legacy for you until we can see you again.
And when we do, I will be so ready for one of those giant amazing bear hugs. For now, I settle for heaven holding you while I hold you in my heart until I can hug you again.
Happy birthday, Reed. I love you always and forever.
Love, Mom
Dear Reed
I just never know how this day will go. Year after year, the anticipation of the day is agony. Much like the siren song that compels me to walk to visit your gravesite, my body feels time dragging me forward to this day. Every cell in my body aches, but it’s my heart and my mind that just simply hurt. In many ways, I feel like they are in the fight for their lives to insulate me from the pain. But as anyone who has endured grief knows, the pain is heart wrenchingly the cost of love.
Please know that I know that you would never want us to hurt this deeply. You loved us too much. But yet this day doesn’t come without its added sorrows. This year it hit me hard, like couldn’t pull myself out of bed this morning. I just didn’t want to face seventeen years without you. It’s just so cosmically unfair. Under the covers, I honestly laughed thinking of the irony of what all those who think I am so incredibly strong would think of me curled up in tears thinking of you and how much I miss you. The biggest ache comes from the realization that all of our grandchildren will only ever know you through our stories, and they will never have the joy of being loved by you. That ache hit really hard this year.
Even in the hardest moments, today and over the last couple of days, I have been reminded of how deeply loved we are. Words spoken over us and promises to share you with those who didn’t get to be loved by you brought me joy. Friends who have walked along us in their own deep journey simply wishing they could take our pain because they know the depth of grief. Flowers, dinners, texts, calls, messages, driving long distances just to hold our hands, dinner delivered (the Reed special, if you know, you know), sightings of cardinals, gifts designed just to make us smile, all to simply shout into the universe you are seen. You are loved and Reed is remembered. But most profoundly beautiful is that every single one of the extraordinary moments of these days have come from souls who, too, have known loss and sadness, broken beautiful vessels of God’s love.
While I would never profess to know God’s ways, maybe the best of this side of heaven is how broken people learn through grief and sadness to just simply love because love is a radical, revolutionary act for light to overcome the darkness. And isn’t that just fitting . . . because you were always our sunshine. Light shines through even the tiniest of pinprick holes even when you are hiding under quilts and especially when you walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Through every revolutionary act of love, we felt the love we all shared with you.
And like our pastor says, “God is crazy cool like that”, and I have to believe you would tell us just how true that really is. So, until we can hold you again, shine on, sweet boy. Shine on. We’ll always be watching for the signs, because despite what some say, we know that love lingers.
Hug Hucky for me and loving you always.
Mom
Have you ever had that friend who just appears in your life and you don’t actually remember the details of how your friendship started? I do. My earliest recollection of meeting my friend, Jan, was on a visit to Leeds to see family. We chatted at Earl’s (which was still our family’s local watering hole at the time). She was kind, funny, and one of those people I knew instantly was exceptionally talented. Honestly, that was it. A chance encounter while watching others play cards in a small-town bar.
Fast forward a few years to the bus crash, and this loving soul and artist created, in mere days, a painting of Reed to send with our family coming for the services. If you look closely, you will also see Grandpa Earl, whom Jan knew very well and who she included to say Reed was also being loved in heaven. What I didn’t know in our first interactions was that my friend understood the depth of losing a child, having lost her son as well.
Eventually, she and her husband moved back closer to his family, ironically to my home state of Florida. Our friendship grew deeper a few years later when I shared that I was writing a book. She became one of my best encouragers in the process, even though after her move, we never once sat down together in the same place again.
We regularly shared prayer requests, laments, silly moments and laughs, and simply the extraordinary ordinary moments of life. I relished when she one day decided that I was one of her besties. From two people who had very different life experiences, educations, generations, and social existences, we simply got each other.
One of our shared loves (of which there were many) was our love of animals. One day while at the 7-11, she and her beloved found a down and out dog that was desperately in need of care. Mind you, this dog was found after a hurricane, in which Jan and Dex lost most of what they owned by nature, and the rest, including all the salvageable pieces of her artistry, was taken by looters. Even in their own hour of need, her first instinct was to help this precious pup.
Well, it turns out the pup was not a pup, but rather a momma dog expecting a litter of puppies, which they helped bring into the world. But sadly, they weren’t able to care for the sweet pups and due to the hurricane devastation, no shelter space was available, especially not the life-affirming shelters. So, what do two besties who share a love for animals do, we hatched up a plan to do a transnational adoption. I worked with a doggie Uber to get four of the sweetest little puppies across the nation from Florida to Minnesota where I had found four perfect homes for them. (Yes, doggie Uber exists. Long story, but the short version is another bestie dreamed about its existence when trying to help transport two pups across country for her parents. I have the BEST friends.) Jan was thankful for the good homes, but also grilled me every day that they were the best matches for her sweet babies. They were then, and they still are now. I still keep tabs on all those pups today. A promise is a promise.
Friends like this are hard to find, and to find one who understands your heart and shares your passions are truly life’s gemstones. Another one of our shared passions are the importance of elevating Indigenous voices, especially those of women, and honoring traditional ancestries. We were (and are) deeply concerned about the MMIW and MMIP situations across the United States and Canada. And we were both enamored by the incredible sculpture: Dignity of Earth and Sky situated on the Missouri River near Chamberlain, South Dakota. Dignity is a 50-foot, stainless steel statue of a stunning Indigenous woman holding a star quilt with louvered panels that fittingly move with the wind and was designed by sculptor Dale Lamphere to honor the cultures of the Lakota and Dakota people.
In a word, she is . . . breathtaking.
Jan and I hatched a plan to visit her together. To honor and to revere the contributions of Lakota and Dakota peoples. She had hopes of visiting gravesites of other family members and seeing family on the planned trip back to North Dakota. Maybe we were two dreamers simply imagining an epic girl’s weekend, but we were planning as best we could living across the country from each other.
I never imagined how the dreams would be dashed. One day while setting up for a class, I took a quick break and scrolled Facebook. I noticed a report from one of Jan’s daughters that Jan wasn’t doing well. I know from our conversations that life had been hard for Jan for most of her life, but in our conversations, I never heard a word of complaint. Not once. Not ever.
In the post her precious daughter said her mom wasn’t doing well, but asked people to share fun memories which she would read to her to boost her spirits. Since class was starting soon, I decided I would take my next break to send an update of puppy pictures and stories since I knew that would totally be a day brightener. Sadly, that isn’t how it worked out. Jan took a turn for the worse and was gone before I even had a chance to respond. Before I had a chance to say goodbye or share any memories, my friend was gone.
I sat in my office and cried and cried and cried.
Much like, finishing the triathlon that I started training with my boys prior to the bus crash, at some point, I decided to some day take that planned trip to see Dignity. Getting there wasn’t as easy as I had hoped as my emotions were just frankly too sad to take the voyage, even if the travel was only three hours or so from my home. I just couldn’t do it. The journey was just too sad.
Then in a odd twist to the story, we had a trip out to the Black Hills to celebrate a hunting buddy of my sweetie. I wasn’t sure if I should go as we had some other things cooking, but then he shocked me by saying, “I think it’s time you get to Dignity.”
We arrived the night before and stayed at a local lodge before getting up right at dawn to fulfill a dream and promise. I will be honest and say I am not in any pictures, because I cried the entire time. I prayed thanking God for our friendship, and as we were just ready to go, standing at the base of Dignity, the sun peeked from behind the clouds and illuminated that whole side of her and shone down on my tear-stained face.
Facing up to heaven, I whispered back, “I finally got here, Jan, and I feel you here. Your love warms me in in this beam of sunshine.”
Miigwech for the lessons in life and friendship.
I love you, dear bestie! I will see you again someday.
Trigger warning: This post addresses National Suicide Prevention month.
For the last few years, I have been quiet in this space, only jumping on to write my annual letters to Reed for his birthday and for his heaven date. I’ve had plenty more to say but my heart has been through the ringer. Before I go further, let’s set a few ground rules here. First, I am doing well, and I have reached a space where I feel I can share my heart again. Second, this nor any of my other social media platforms are for bashing other people. Third, similar to the second rule, is that this is not meant as a “grab your popcorn and let’s watch the drama unfold” space. Fourth, it will always be okay to not be okay.
So here we go. I saw this post on Instagram the other day. Thank you, to IG user andrewsparkig for sharing something that resonated so incredibly deeply with my soul, and if we change the past year to the past four years, that about sums up the fire that I have walked through.
But how did we get here? I think it genuinely was a perfect storm of pandemic and words and actions that brought me to my knees.
My heart hurts still thinking about each of them, but I now know that they helped shape the me I am today and refined the warrior spirit that continues to drive my heart. I started writing on the Caringbridge sites for our children, where those typewritten words helped me to calm the swirling sea of fear, shock, sadness, and uncertainty. In that writing, I found a voice that urged me to go on even in the toughest times.
My quietness has been because the hurts of the past few years have almost swallowed me whole, rendering me at times, speechless.
In those early days of becoming a “writer” naming the aches helped the challenges we faced to feel smaller. Sharing now also releases them because I am certain that watching from the outside, most had no idea of the weight of my burdens for four long years. It’s okay, friends. It’s genuinely okay. But just know that every day, others are facing giants we will never know.
The things that caused me to falter, to doubt, to question, and to lament ranged from something as small as a text (calling me a pathetic human) to something so ground shaking (my friend taking her life) and all kinds of wounds in between those extremes were heavy for someone with a very tender heart.
Oh, there were others, like pervasive messaging about public-school teachers and worse yet, college professors, being villainous. Hey wait? What?!?! Do you mean me? Please note: if I intended to indoctrinate anyone’s children, my first act would be that they turn in their homework on time and done to completion. But since in 33 years I failed at that very mission, I think the worry is, at best, misguided.
Another favorite is the attack on science and scientists. Um? Wait? Did you forget that I am scientist first and educator always? For the record, I can love Jesus and science and sleep really well at night, not finding odds at either.
There were more times where my heart simply ached. So much more that at times felt like I was taking body blows for simply existing. Being reminded that you will always be too much for some is a hard lesson to learn. Realizing that the spaces where you thought you belonged no longer felt right was soul-crushing. At times, I pondered my purpose, much like one of my favorite songs, She Used to be Mine, from Waitress. I gave and gave, until exhaustedly, I realized that they had taken more than I gave them.
I did reach out, but that thing that I have always bristled at – Oh, you are so strong – blinds others to seeing that your requests for help are genuine. So, the help doesn’t come or worse yet, can be met occasionally with been there, done that – mentalities which in the history of those words strung together has never been helpful. Sometimes, the world’s givers need to be receivers too.
But . . . light still shone, and that is the whole point of sharing all of this because trust me, I did not want to. God and I have wrestled over this one for a LONG time; hence the really, really long hiatus from writing. Yet, every time I have a WWE match for the belt, I learn that the sadness, despair, and lamenting I have felt, God plans to use for good. Even the strongest struggle, so, please know you are not alone. Not ever.
Despite my personal darkness of sad in what felt like my soul’s valley of the shadow of the death, hope was there. Many times, she was a quiet and insistent whisper, barely audible. I noted something yesterday I had never once considered regarding that verse from Psalm 23.
In order for a shadow to form, light must be present even in the darkest spaces.
Light was always there.
Without a doubt, I learned hard lessons in these last four year. I also learned the steadfastness and love of some of those souls closest to my heart, including ones that walked into my life recently. I learned the value of saying no to things that no longer fit. I learned how to simply walk away and to love from a distance. Yet, I learned how truly capable I can be, and how to deeply love myself in the midst of sadness and chaos.
Through it all, I never forgot how deeply loved I am by God, even in the moments where it felt people forgot.
Thank you to those who carried the buckets of water to douse out the flames and to others who were the feathers that carried hope.
You saw me and loved me anyway. You are the real MVPs.
Post-note: While my sadness led to soul searching and lifestyle changes, I still walked alongside my friends and helped in their sadnesses, losses, and betrayals because I was not despondent. I fully recognize that is not the story for others, including my friend, whom I love and miss every day. I will never diminish the importance of mental health. Health is health – period. Hard stop. This baring of my soul and revealing that the “strong” don’t always feel it is for her, for the last few years me, and for anyone who needs some encouragement.
September is National Suicide Prevention month.
For those who are silently struggling, you are not alone.
You do not have to suffer alone.
It is okay to not be okay, but please, please know we need you here.
My friend was not okay, her brain lied to her, and her passing has left a hole I didn’t know could exist which is saying something because I know and live with the pain of losing a child.
You matter, and we need you.
My heart, my ears, and my arms are always open, and so too is the Suicide Hotline.
Happy heavenly birthday! I can hardly believe that 29 years ago at this moment as we settled into our first night together at the hospital – you with your new world and me with my new name that this is how I would spend your most of your birthdays. Your birthday was one of the hardest physical, and yet happiest days of my life. The old adage that you forget all about the pain the moment you hold that little baby in your arms is undeniably true. I often wonder if I knew the true depth of pain that was coming what, but definitely never if, would I have done differently.
The “would” comes from another true adage that the first time you become a mom, you realize that no how-to manual was given to you. You learn really quickly that being a mom is exceptionally challenging, but even knowing the ending, I would have never wanted to miss the time that I did get to share with you.
Even though I would have much rather celebrated with you turning the same age as one of your grandmothers this year with you, we chose to live like you today because the reality is they don’t give manuals for when your baby is born, and they certainly don’t give them out when your sweet amazing boy passes away. As the sun rose, I posted a birthday message with the P!nk song “When I get there” because it always makes me think of you when it comes on. Every time it does; I am moved to tears – not a great look when you are sitting a stoplight.
In the comments, Sawyer’s godmother who loved you, too, with all her heart posted this message.
Reading through the comments, hers just reached out and grabbed my heart. We’ve always had a deep connection, and she spoke the words I needed to hear because she understands that heaven really isn’t that far away, and in so many, many ways touches Earth.
Our first choice for the day was ADVENTURE . . . more on that in moment, but on our drive over, Clo started some tunes on her phone. We were listening to songs on her normal playlist, when all of sudden a familiar song came on. Not just any song, but one of your favorites. Thanks for that! As tears ran down my cheeks, I sang with all my heart, knowing you were right there riding along, if nothing more than in my heart. Heaven felt really close in that moment.
Despite the rain, which always feels so befitting on your birthday, almost as if nature is crying with me, we arrived at our adventure choice, and I will admit we were there for quite a while before I realized how truly perfect this choice was. We attended Curd Fest at the Redhead Creamery. Yep, you read that right. We chose to do something fun just to remember you, and we would pick the one event that was truly fitting. I will never forget the moment that I first held you and my astonishment to see that after finally deciding your name and learning that our family name meant redhaired and to discover this tiny little seven pound nothing baby came into the world with the most beautiful red curls. Although the music at the Fest was outstanding, I also couldn’t help but giggle thinking of the time you serenaded Sawyer at his birthday party nonetheless with your first song – I love you. I loooooooovvvveee you. I love you like a cheese sandwich. Oh, and you’ll never believe it, we also were able to buy today Huckleberry soda. So, attending a festival dedicated to cheese, great food, cool vendors and good music ended up being nothing short of perfect.
We couldn’t really enjoy the lake, and thus, Erin had the perfect idea, let’s go bowling. That was something you kids always enjoyed, and while we were bowling, we shared some of the stories of past times. Her suggestion to go to the lanes reminded me of all the times we would go as a family, but also the times we had the chance to stop by when you all went to Marshall Bowl for school. And that is one of the crazy things about grief, even something as simple as bowling comes wrapped with all sorts of amazing memories that bring such joy, but there is always a tiny tug that reminds my heart we don’t and won’t get to do that with you ever again.
Of course, the final plan for the day was ice cream for supper to really celebrate like you which Sawyer called to confirm we were doing because in his words that was the Reed special. We gathered up for a photo of all of us, but watching your sweet little niece enjoy her ice cream, I had to chuckle. Although she had sprinkles, she had “white” which was pretty close to your standard order of “white with nothing on it”.
While I thought that was going to be the end of our special moments today, there was one more touch from heaven. Another one of your adopted nieces whose birthday is a couple days after yours received an early gift of flower boxes for fairy gardens – I know another one of your favorites. I told her brother, who happens to be your namesake that this year I have decided to add to the gnome and fairy gardens and make a dinosaur garden. His eyes immediately lit up! I told him I hadn’t made it yet to which he instantly offered his expertise. After our ice cream, we rode back to the lake place, and as soon as we got off the golf cart, Keaghen Reed, said “Grammy, let’s make that dinosaur garden.” We couldn’t tonight because we didn’t have all the pieces, but in the moment, that didn’t matter because even though as much as us moms wish we could go back in time, we cannot. Yet, standing there dreaming up ideas for the dinosaur garden with KR felt like I was transported back to when you and I shared all kinds of ideas for your love of dinosaurs.
Not that long ago, I saw a post on social media that some folks I know and love were talking about heaven and their interpretation and the comments from people who have been in our home and whom we have loved on their children felt like a gut punch. I instantly cried from what felt like being stabbed in the heart, but then to be very honest, I felt relieved and sad for them. Relieved that they had never lost a child and would never know a pain so unimaginable to not even have name for that depth of loss in most languages. Sad for them as they don’t possess a faith, even a childlike faith, that can feel and see divine interactions and who can audaciously believe like our pastor says, “God is crazy cool like that”.
As another birthday goes by and my heart continues to ache from missing you, I know confidently that all the days, but especially today, heaven truly isn’t that far away.
Loving you always until I hug you again!
Love, Momma
P.S. Give the world’s most perfect dog, Huck, a hug from me because I miss him every day too.
Hey Reed!
Much like my siren song, the walks to visit you at the cemetery when we are in North Dakota, I always wake up on this day thinking of all the things that I want to share with you and how deeply I miss you. This past week has been exceptionally hard leading up to today. If I were completely honest, the entire last year has been exceptionally hard.
I have truly struggled. Sometimes I think many see me as a strong person, which is never how I would describe myself. Ever. Often others lean in, rely on, and expect much from strong people without ever wondering if they are truly feeling that strength. Many days I have not, but I continued to show up, to give, and to love without abandon. But I also learned that supposed strong people need:
- rest,
- time spent doing things that bring them joy,
- extraordinary moments of ordinary life with people who love them for exactly who they are,
- time curled up with a good book,
- nature, lots and lots and lots of nature,
- hearty belly chuckle laughs,
- a good movie night,
- adventures,
- getting lost in loving others (especially those different from yourself), and
- a faith that believes that Jesus is who he says he is even if that means something very different from those who yell the loudest.
As I learned more about each of these characteristics, I also realized that you embodied many of them, and in your short twelve years with us, we were able to live a life doing each of those things with you. We still have days where grief just sucks us in like the quicksand nightmares of our childhood shows. But then we also have a glimmer of the light of love shining brightly.
In the last few days, that loved showed up in a myriad of ways like:
- a bestie lovingly propagating her plants to bring a piece of her heart to mine,
- another bestie showing up just for a hug,
- yet another bringing a whole meal and a card that had words that profoundly touched my soul,
- a baby whom I have to believe you kissed on her way to Earth snuggled up with a Reed-a-Cheetah and later her parents putting her in cardinal jammies.
- another bestie showing up just to do whatever I wanted to do to remember you,
- enjoying a food adventure with your baby sister,
- a cardinal landing right outside your brother’s and sister’s door, and
- many text and social media messages.
Quite simply, love showed up.
One of those messages completely took my breath away today. The sender was even a bit nervous but sent the message anyways because she felt stirred in her heart to do so. She and her son, who happens to be a Scout from your former troop, decided to go geocaching today, and they found yours. Today was a beautiful day, so very different from your actual heaven day. After finding the cache, they stepped back onto the trail, and while her son logged the find on his phone, “a snowflake clump drifted down and landed on his screen. It had not snowed when we walked in nor on our way out. It was totally out of the blue, and no other snowflakes at all.”
Immediately, I gasped. I cried happy tears, and then I laughed. Most importantly, my heart melted in love. I thanked her, even though I knew she exhibited enormous courage and even larger LOVE to send that message today.
What she didn’t know was your penchant for always sneaking ahead in your “woods” to shake the branches of the trees to drop snow on whichever one of us had the misfortune of being under it when an avalanche of snow clumps would rain down.
Even though we are always looking for ways for love to show up in our day-to-day lives, we are vigilantly looking for when LOVE shows up from heaven. So, thank you, sweet boy, for sending the exact message that you knew would get our attention.
And yes, we know you shook that tree just enough to send that message of LOVE.
We’ll keep watching. You keep sending those messages, and in between, we will always be loving you.
Loving you every day until I can hug you again.
Love,
Mom
Dear Reed –
Happy birthday, Sunshine! I hope that all heaven celebrated you today. Like the ebb and flow of the tides, my heart rose and sank all throughout today. For your birthday eve, I slept the sleep of the angels as I was still recovering from a cousin concert trip of a lifetime. What a blessing to celebrate with those who see and love me, but mostly who understand what it means to love the way you did – rEVOLutionarily!
As I was groggily awakened by the singing of what sounded like a choir full of birds before the sun rose, my heart sank because I realized that I would once again greet another day without you. Yet, I somehow feel nature knew my heart needed comforting. Upon opening the window shades, I saw that the “Wales” rose was dripping in bloomed flowers. A slight smile curved my lips as I thought of all the times we dreamed together looking out that window, especially during our crazy stay-up-late cheering for Olympic team nights.
I barely stepped out of our room before my phone started pinging with messages of love from those who loved you with all their hearts and who remind us they continue to love you. Your Boy Scout brother, your best friend, and adopted aunties, followed by so many more.
While I posted a birthday message to you on social media, Dad exuberantly shared that our new “dragon” plant (Oh how you would love that!) was ready to bloom. Seconds later, he exclaimed, “The cardinals are flying, and they are everywhere.” I smiled through my tears as Dad, Clo, and I gathered to look out at your memory garden looking for any flash of red feathers.
The love messages on Facebook and Instagram continued throughout the day. An early one caught my eye and took away my breath. A dear friend simply wrote:
Happy birthday Reed! Give mama a sign today. Hugs to you Kandy!
AG
How could she know that even though it’s your birthday, my one wish was for heaven to touch earth today.
The rest of the day was spent with other messages that surrounded us all with love and support. We will never be able to repay all the kindnesses, but our hearts’ songs will always replay the wonder of their love.
We spent the evening gathered together as a family for an evening of golf and dining, simply remembering you. The time laughing and duffing around was amazing, but my heart was aching because this is the last time, for a while, that we will all be together as we soon start a really southern branch of Team Stevens, captained by Sawyer and Sydney. Before we loaded sweet A into the car with Erin and Grant, I made sure to give her extra kisses from you. Perhaps the goodbyes for now lingered longer today, because on your birthday we are reminded of the ache of waiting for heaven.
As I prepare to go to bed, my heart smiles because what happened earlier today could have only been orchestrated in heaven. For a few years now, we celebrate today as “Be Like Reed” day. Sometimes it’s enjoying ice cream for supper. Other times, the day is devoted to getting outside and doing something you would love. But today, I chose to “Be Kind like Reed” and treated my concurrent enrollment summer school class to an iced coffee bar to start class. Since today was our last day in person, I thought it would be the perfect way to honor how you truly loved people. Normally, bookbags begin to shuffle minutes before class ends. But not today. Class ended, only my students didn’t leave. One by one, these sweet students came up to thank me for the coffee, for the class, for making them feel like they would be successful students in college. What happened next was definitely not expected. One asked if they could give me a hug, to which I enthusiastically replied – YES! Then I explained how Dad says I should come with a warning sign – “Look out! She’s a hugger!” They laughed, and then each one lined up with hugs. Each embrace filled my heart with joy, but the last one, oh the last one. That one filled my eyes with happy tears. She enveloped me and gave me one of those colossal bear hugs just like yours, with smile radiating as if it came from heaven.
So, my friend’s words were prophetic.
I got the sign! Thanks for that. Even though it feels light years away, sometimes heaven isn’t so far away.
My heart feels recharged to go out and to keep on loving – just like you.
I love you always.
Holding you in my heart, until I can hold you in my arms again.
Love, Momma
Dear Reed –
I love you so much, a love so deeply rooted that every cell in my body knows this day is approaching. February 19 being the worst day of my life probably comes as no surprise to anyone. But what would perhaps shock most people is the agony of losing you is also marked by enduring February 18 which I consider to be the last fully happy day. You know from heaven’s vantage point I have had happy days since your heaven date fifteen years ago, but none, not a single one, of those happy times exists without a quiet tug at my heart, realizing that you weren’t there to share in the moment or that I couldn’t tell you about it later.
So it was yesterday, we endured that last happy day – the quiet before the storm of the brutalness of revisiting the day you died. Like any beautiful love story, the last couple days have had moments completely immersed in love and dark brush strokes of sadness which only illuminate how love still wins.
After breakfast with Sawyer and Sydney yesterday, the day started by celebrating KR’s birthday by treating him to a dinosaur traveling exhibit. When we peered around a corner, he blurted out, “That’s a Spinosaurus” with the same conviction that you used to use when rattling off dinosaur names. I stopped in my tracks because the beauty of the moment was so perfectly reminiscent of when we took you and Sawyer to a similar exhibit at the Hjemkomst center.
We later spent the afternoon and evening attending the wedding of extended family and enjoyed, however briefly, visiting with Erin and Grant. We returned home early after a deeply brutiful moment when I was overjoyed for our friends, but absolutely heartbroken watching a dance that I will never get to experience with you, thinking of all the times we twirled together in kitchens, hotel dance parties, and deep belly chuckles at your little old man from Six Flags dance interpretations. The trip home was a sea of tears, happy ones for the revelers, sad ones for all that we miss. My thoughts turned over and over in my head, my heart, and wearing out my soul.
I am fairly certain a mother’s love co-mingled with exhaustion and sadness wiped me out for the evening. Unlike other years, sleep was not elusive. Before first light, my heart knew that I would have to walk through this day. Yet, I was comforted knowing I wouldn’t be traveling alone. Besties and adopted kiddos made plans to surround us with love. From “I just happened to be in the neighborhood” bear hugs to requests to take us out to lunch where our loves didn’t bat an eyelash, when we asked if instead, we could do an indoor picnic and then a walk in Reed’s Woods. Their hearts understood the resonant chords of our need to do the things you loved, and in every way, the time spent together was perfect.
Even before today, the love and support extended have spoken to my soul. Some have whispered their love softly through text messages, even at the beginning of February just letting me know they see me, they remember you, and they want me to know they are thinking of me, of us. Others have loved fiercely, ensuring we know you are not forgotten, ordering that we were being kind and gentle to ourselves, and filling a part of the day listening to old stories, but most importantly saying your name. The thing my heart longs for always. All the while, my heart remembering –
You were brilliant. You were laughter. You were imagination. You were light. You were love.
I always look for a sign from you on this day, and perhaps the best was the hug I got shortly after our morning hot tub soak. I was cooling down on the bed, when Navy, the grand-pup, jumped up on the bed, something she hadn’t done before. Her furry little face looked deeply in my eyes, and then in the most perfect moment, she laid down on my chest and neck, and hugged me. I looked at her, wide-eyed, and asked, “Did Reed tell you to do that?” Her response was to hug me again.
My heart could almost hear you whisper, “Just do it, girl. My mom will know. My mom will know.”
I knew, Reed, I knew. And I love you, too.
Loving you always until I can hug you again.
Love, Mom
A while back, my husband, daughter, bonus mom, and I did something that was probably a first for our alma mater, collectively we nominated my dad’s basketball team for the university’s Hall of Fame. Three generations of fans worked together to highlight the accomplishments of one team. We are excited to announce that he and the entire team received word that they were selected for induction for the Class of 2022 Awardees. We had such a whirlwind summer that I am finally able to start sharing some of the amazing goodness. But we will start with sharing a long overdue accolade. We believe that we were not the only nominators, but there will definitely be some that say that nepotism played a role in our nomination. I understand the sentiment, but I also know as a science and math specialist that numbers don’t lie, such as a perfect 10-0 conference season. Of course, I am one of my dad’s biggest fans, but I also know that this team deserves this award.
What follows is our letter to the Hall of Fame reviewers.
The Greatest Show on Earth
1989-90 Comet Men’s Basketball Team
In the world of incredible sports achievement, it is easy to overlook the individuals and teams which triumph even in the face of adversity. Some sports legends are made from “Cinderella seasons” like the one which describes the 1989-1990 Comet Men’s Basketball team. Starting the season with five straight losses and not much size in the basketball world, the team of only nine players rallied to have one of the greatest comeback stories in Mayville State history, ending the year with a perfect 10-0 conference season.
Many amazing stories and athletic feats were accomplished by this team throughout the season, but one game encapsulates the success of the 1989-90 Comets. With a lackluster season start, a proverbial fire was lit on the bus ride to the University of Mary when against his personal coaching philosophy, Coach Noles transparently shared with the team that he had never beat Mary on their home court . . . ever. Like a match thrown into a tinderbox, from the initial tip to the final buzzer, the Comets were on fire. The whistle blew and the tip went to Cedric Weatherspoon. The first three drives up the court by the men’s team were all connected three-pointers and all three were unmatched by the opponents. Down 9-0, the astonished Mary coach called a timeout and all in attendance in the gym, including the Comet bench, heard the plan. Shut down those 3-pointers! Play proceeded with small in stature but BIG in court presence, Kevin Kemp bringing the ball up the court. A few passes and the ball was eventually pitched out to Todd Olson, who was standing six to seven feet behind the three-point line. Like poetry in motion, a signature head nod fake, a quick look, a shot, and nothing but net. The Comet bench went wild, knowing this was their time. They rose to the challenge and never looked back. At half-time the Comets led by 40 points. The team went into the half-time locker room with a changed energy and renewed confidence. The second half of the game ended much like the first, but with one of the best comments of the season. Eventually, the subs were sent in and finished the game as strong as the starters. While watching the Comets trounce the Mary team, Neil Steffes made several attempts to get Coach Noles’ attention, eventually capturing it. Coach! Coach! We’re not only beating them at home, we are kicking their butts. The Comets returned home to Mayville with a renewed vigor and determination and surprisingly awoke to a newspaper article showcasing their talent and appeal. Following the decisive defeat of Mary, the Bismarck Tribune’s sports headline stated “The Greatest Show on Earth” was not the Ringling Bros Circus, but rather the title and honor should be bestowed to the 1989-90 Mayville State men’s basketball team.
Other and subsequent games showcased the talent and heart of a team that many discredited at the beginning of the season as not being able to accomplish much of anything. In fact the limited team numbers required that Assistant Coach, Mic Laroque, a non-traditional student, play on the practice squad in order to have a full count of ten men on the court. This team consistently proved the adage that it isn’t always the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog that matters. The Comet’s season delighted hardwood fans across the state with solid performances by all team members and ended with a record 10-0 conference season and an overall record of 15-10. Three Comets – Jim Hedstrom, Todd Olson, and Cedric Weatherspoon, earned All-NDCAC team honors with Olson being named to the All District 12 team.
Currently three members of this team have been recognized as Mayville State Hall of Famers. The Comet accomplishments on the court, in the classroom, and in the community at large for Neil Steffes, Todd Olson, and Cedric Weatherspoon were achieved only with the support of other great hoops showmen. This fact was one that was noted in a class act at the conclusion of the season. For the end of the season team banquet, the starters, Jim Hedstrom, Mark Olson, Todd Olson, Cedric Weatherspoon and Neil Steffes went to Coach Noles and asked for all the substitute players to be named the year’s MVP’s. Stating that they themselves didn’t deserve the honor, the season’s named MVP’s were awarded to Kemp Kemp, Ryan Flanagan, Kurt Olson, and Ken Kantack.
For the reasons outlined above, most importantly for the recognition by the starters for the importance each team member played, and as three generations of Comet fans, we believe the entire team deserves Hall of Fame recognition. We are proud to nominate the team and coaching staff of the 1989-90 Comet Men’s basketball team for consideration for the Mayville State Hall of Fame class of 2020
Respectfully submitted by three generations of Comet fans,
Lorraine Nowatzki Stevens (Class of 1963)
Dr. Kandy Noles Stevens (Class 1991)
Daniel Stevens (Class of 1994)
Erin Stevens (attender 2017 & 2018)
I am excited for this team, especially my dad. Currently, he is working on a memoir of his years as a coach, which we hope to release through our publishing company later this year. Being his co-author and learning more about how basketball changed his life, and by extension mine, has been both an illuminating and humbling journey. So here’s to all the coaches and how the teams they coach have always been a big part of their story.
Congrats to the entire 1989-1990 Comet Men’s Basketball team. We are incredibly proud of you all.
Dear Reed –
Here we are again celebrating your life and the day God gave us you. Today, my Facebook memories popped up with pictures of you only a few days old. I looked at the photos and my heart stopped. Momentarily I was transported back to when we brought you home. I was so proud to be your mom, but I was also worried I wouldn’t know what to do. Scared I wouldn’t get this motherhood thing right. Delighted my dream came true, but equally terrified that I wouldn’t be enough. As I stared into the pictures, you were so tiny, and I marveled at every part of you. Just looking at the pictures took my breath away. As I looked at the picture of you and me, I wanted to tell the younger version of myself to never let you go because the time we will share together would never be enough.
Even though I cannot call you up and hear your voice, I still think about your perspective on life and how you might view things. This past year has been exceptionally challenging for me, and there were so many times where I was disappointed in how mean and cruel people can be. I just simply will never understand when people spew meanness because someone has a different opinion than theirs. In every moment of despair, I remembered a conversation that you and I shared just a week before you returned to heaven. In our chat, you told me, “Mom, it’s not going to be long now.” Thinking you were talking about getting home, I thought you were correct because we were only a few blocks from home. But when I inquired what you meant, I marveled at how someone who came into the world looking like a little old man could also have in twelve years acquired the sage wisdom of an old soul. “Mom, I mean it’s not going to be long before Jesus comes back.”
My heart broke then because your assessment was based on the sadness and trials you perceived in the world. If you saw the dividedness and incivility now, I can only imagine the weight of sadness you would carry for the world. But what faith that you believed with all your heart that hope exists! You always believed in a better world and through your actions, you strove to make the world a better place. I genuinely wish more people could live like you – just loving people for who they are, even when they weren’t always kind to you in return.
Tonight, I wanted to celebrate doing something you loved; so, we chose to go to the Canaries game because you LOVED baseball. What blew me away was right there at the ball park; someone extended a kindness that was exactly like something you would do. I explained the significance of our outing and asked for a picture of our group with Cagey, the mascot. Upon hearing the story, I received the biggest hug which was amazingly similar to one of your sneaky squeezes. So even in a world where I don’t hear your name as much as my soul needs, a baseball mascot gave me a squeeze and recognized that if nothing else, my momma heart needed a hug. You were always my sunshine, and tonight that sunshine came wrapped up in yellow canary feathers because he was right. A hug was exactly what I needed.
Even if my arms cannot hold you, my heart always will, and I will always be your Momma.
I will always love you.
Happy Birthday, Reed!
Love, Mom
kandynolesstevens 