THE CORD

We are connected, my child and I,
By an invisible cord Not seen by the eye.
It's not like the cord That connected us til birth.
This cord can't be seen by anyone on earth.
This cord does its work right from the start.
It bonds us together. Attached at the heart.
I know that it's there. Though no one can see
The invisible cord from my child to me.
The strength of this cord, It's hard to describe,
It can't be destroyed. It can't be denied.
It's stronger than any cord man could create,
It withstands the test, Can hold any weight.
And though you are gone, Though you're not here with me,
The cord is still there, But no one can see.
It pulls at my heart. I am bruised... I am sore.
But this cord is my lifeline as never before.
I am thankful that God connects us this way.
A mother and child. Death can't take it away.

~~ author unknown~~

The Beginning

It was the Fourth of July and I was very pregnant...nine months pregnant.
We were hosting a Fourth of July party when I began to feel the first labor pains begin.  How many women have 100 pair of eyes upon them as they begin contractions?  The excitement intensified as labor pains continued to get stronger.   Joy,  marvel and warmth radiated in the hearts of the friends and party guests as the sun shone on that day! 
We had gathered to celebrate the Freedom of America.  Now we also celebrated the miracle of the impending birth of a child. 
Excited shouts rang out and flags were waved as I departed for the hospital!
Freedom's child was on his way!

You, Lex were my only natural born child. 
I will be forever grateful to God for allowing me the experience of carrying a child in my womb.  Grateful for being able to experience the miracle of giving birth to a child.

Each Fourth of July which arrives since you have left this world of the living, brings thoughts of your birth.  You struggled in the darkness of my womb to emerge into the world and take your place of honor. 
You were a unique child of the universe, arriving into this world at 3:31 a.m. on July 5th.

You will always live in my memory as my
Fourth of July... Fireworks Baby...Freedom's Child.
I did not love you any more or any less than your brothers or half sisters...
I loved you for who you were.  Sometimes I loved you in spite of you.
Other parents of teenagers will surely understand.

My heart rejoices that we were allowed to have you with us for twenty-one years.  To feel your hugs, to get those hello and goodbye  kisses.  You were so demonstrative and never afraid of displaying your feelings of love.  You stumbled and you fell down many times.  You were always able to get back up again and learn from your experiences.
You were a peacemaker with a gentle and kind heart.
Did the ocean fill you with peace or did the waves absorb a part of your essence?

Mom will always love you and remember you on this Fourth of July holiday
and all of the other 364 days of the year which follow.

What Happened

The fateful day ...July 30th...was like any other day. 
I had dinner with two gal-friends and then we went on to the church for a women's meeting.   During this meeting my husband John entered the room and called me out to the parking lot.  His face was ashen, his lips a grim line.  He choked and he stammered,  "A Deputy Sheriff came to the house.  Lex has been hit by a truck and killed instantly."
I screamed out in agony.  Friends came out into the parking lot, encircling us,
their eyes full of shock, pain, disbelief and sorrow.

Lex had worked a ten hour day and was riding his motorcycle the short five miles home when this accident happened.  The weather was clear, the road conditions were good.  The truck made a left hand turn in front of Lex.  The driver did not see my son approaching him in the opposite lane.  Lex  attempted to brake, the motorcycle skidded and his body flew across the pavement and under the wheels of the stock trailer being pulled by the truck.

He was killed instantly.

Thank you God for sparing my son from suffering  pain.

The Memorial Service

Lex was a blond, blue eyed California Surfer.
He preferred "catchin' a wave" over all other things in life.
The Minister conducted the Memorial Service attired in a loud flowered Hawaiian sport shirt and sandals on his feet.  Lex's picture, along with his surf board and wet suit were displayed at the front of the church, surrounded with an immeasurable array of flowers .
The music which played in the background was Lex's favorite
...Led Zeppelin...Houses of the Holy...
The funeral home Chapel was overflowing.  The walls were lined with people standing and some spilled out the doorway and onto the steps, while others sat on the grassy lawn.  It was such a tremendous honor to my son's memory to know that hundreds of   people came to say their good-byes to Lex and to extend support and love.
Your presence was a cherished gift to our family.
Your flowers, your cards, your calls and support will always be remembered.

Lex's father had passed away  two years before Lex died.   Lex said at that time that if he should ever die, he would like to be cremated and his ashes scattered in the ocean, the ocean  which he loved so dearly.    His wishes were carried out. 
He was permanently joined with his love...his passion...the gentle giant Pacific Ocean.

Three rocks were gathered from the shore at the time his ashes were scatted at sea.  These rocks now have a place of honor below the picture of my son which hangs in our home.  Sitting beside the rocks is a ship made of brass.   It is a mere trinket to a casual observer.  To me it is a priceless gift.   When Lex was only four years old he was given money to go to the store to buy something for himself.  When he returned he smiled that sweet dimpled smile and his blue eyes sparkled as he placed this ship in my hand.  He had spent all of his money to buy a gift for his Mommy.

With trembling hands holding this small brass ship and tears running down my cheeks, I related this story of Lex's great unselfish love at his memorial service.
My son knew the wisdom of the secret of happiness at four years old and went on to live the rest of his short life practicing this God given deep love for those around him.
He touched.  He hugged.  He said I love you without hesitation. 
Our last happy words ended in "I love you."
I am blessed to have this warm memory to hold on to
when the nights are long and the days are blue.
Was he an angel?     Oh yes.     Yes he was.

Although his ashes were scattered at sea, I felt I needed a place called a grave.
I went to the cemetery and picked out a spot which was shaded by a huge giant Oak.
The headstone was ordered and  would be a permanent marker upon the earth.  The marble stone  is only a symbol of the significance of my son's life.  To Lex ( now departed and gone) it mattered not.  But for me, bound yet to this earthly realm, it helped at that time for healing my aching heart.

"And when the earth shall claim your limbs...then shall you truly surf"

The words inscribed on my son's headstone, came from the book THE PROPHET, written by Kahill Gibran, found in the closing paragraph of the Chapter on Death.
I changed one word.    Surf was substituted for the word dance.

Legalities

The embittered court room battles which oft times ensue, can be devastating to the soul.
The defense attorney was seeking to place guilt upon Lex and exonerate his client.
I hired my own legal defense to fight for my son's good name. 
No.  He was wearing his helmet and the chin strap was fastened.  No.  His face mask was not scratched.  No.  He had not been to a party.  He had worked all day.   No.  He was not a bad kid or irresponsible.  No.  He was not speeding.  Forty-five miles an hour was the posted speed limit.  No.  His headlight on his bike automatically came on.
No.  He was not to blame.
 
And still the plea of "Not Guilty as Charged" was heard down the halls
bouncing back off of the courtroom walls.
Then finally it dawned on me.  The lawyer was only doing his job. 
The man who could spend up to a year in jail
would suffer no more or no less,
if left to his rest.
God is the jury.  Jesus the attorney.
So approaching the District Attorney I begged...
"Please stop this insanity and let the man go
back to his family and not to prison or hell.
He's suffered enough...haven't we all?"

I dropped it and let it be
not only for him but because in so doing
I set myself free.  Accidents happen.
Motorcycles are hard to see.

Man's gavel fell with a forceful and final blow of peace
in the Criminal portion of the legalities.

The civil suit carried on.  But by then I knew that it did not matter.
No amount of money would ever replace
the laughter and smile of my son's face.
Go to court and fight?  It was a right
which held no allure.
We settled and split.

As my lawyer handed me the check
he reached out and hugged me,
and placed a kiss on my cheek
pushing me back, looking deep in my eyes,
he whispered low
You are a lovely woman to know.

Lex heard that man's words
and a gentle wren flew down from the sky,
sat on a twig and twittered a song in my ear...

and the sun shone on

a resting  heart,
a healing soul.

Grief

Death of a loved one is the most traumatic and painful  experiences one can suffer.   A grieving period with distinct stages follows loss of any kind.  It takes but one quick moment and life in the family unit changes forever.  There will always remain an empty chair at the table and an empty space in the heart.
Things can be replaced.  Loved ones can not be replaced.
I was in shock for the first three months after Lex died.  During this time I clung to my strong belief in God.  I appeared on the outside to be accepting fate and dealing with life on life's terms, except for a fractured memory.
Then.  Shock receded and reality reared it's ugly head. 
I entered sorrow's dark dungeon...crying day and night for relief.
Just about the time my friends thought I should be getting "better," is when I slipped into the reality of what had happened.  The reality of the fact that my son was gone forever from my sight and I would never feel his hugs again.  God and the angels would care for him now.  Of that I was certain.  But this belief   did not bring comfort to the lonely Mother who ached to hold her son once again.  I sat crumpled in a heap in  his now empty bedroom, alone with my memories of this Fourth of July baby of mine.
For months and months my body shook uncontroablly as I sobbed and cried.
Would the agony never end...would the tears never stop flowing?
Weren't the tears suppose to be God's way of healing?
Much later I found out that I not only was dealing with my son's death, but also with what is known as "the empty nest syndrome".
My other children had left home and were living in different parts of the country.
Lex was the only child still living at home at the time of his death.

Grief manifests itself in many ways.  It can be a ravenous raper and destroyer of family. 
A child's death can drive a couple apart as each deals with the loss in their own different way.  This is a time to reach out and seek to understand the crushing dynamics of destruction which can roar  in the disguise of apathy, lack of interest in life, depression, extreme mood swings, hate, anger and unreasonable demands of those we love most.
I will always be grateful to God that I did not have to experience this additional trauma.

I wish to express my appreciation and lasting devotion to my husband for being a rock of support to me in the years following Lex's death.   I will be forever grateful,

because...

he handled it when I was weak.
He cared when I could not care.
He was strong when I was meek.
He spoke when I could not speak.

And when the anger inside me raged?
He listened when I screamed.  Stood quiet and let me shout.

He intuitively knew that my anger was not directed at him...
although  my words like a razor sharp knife, were cutting and barbed.
You see...I had to be mad, for it helped sooth away the tears,
wet salty tears of frustration and black nights of despair.
Better to rage and act like a bitch than choke on my own bitter tears?

Much later, my shield of anger abated and I  deteriorated into a mere shell
of the independent and competent woman I once was, slipping into a hell hole of depression.  I had heard of depression, but had never visited this
pitch black, wretched and miserable place.

And John?
He excused me...stood by me...
He loved me when I was totally unlovable.

In John's  endeavor to be a firm guide and a responsible step- parent, he had
overlooked the importance of telling Lex that he loved him. 
He had never reached out and given a hug. 
John  carried this guilt and remorse inside and did not share it with me for a long time.
Unshared and untreated emotional pain can fester like a boil. 
I leave his journey through grief  for him to tell,
should he choose to share his personal story.

It's my own personal opinion that
John gave and continues to give to my son,
the  Sweetest  Gift and the Highest  Honor ...
protecting, caring and loving Lex's Mother.

and the sun shone on

a resting  heart
a soul at peace

Personal Feelings

It has taken me a great deal of time to be able to write and to share Lex's  story in detail.  I have shared my faith in my trust that Lex is surfing the oceans in heaven above and he is safe in that perfect ocean of love.  I also share with you my sorrow that he is gone. I've had many grieving parents ask me how to get through the disabling grief of loss.  There is no pat answer, no magical fix; for each individual must draw upon their own strength, weakness and beliefs.  I benefited tremendously from my belief in God and from professional grief counseling.  I needed and received anti-depressant medication for a period of time.  I read and studied everything available regarding the subject of death.  My journey was not a morbid pursuit.   In so doing, I learned so much more about living and although I do not embrace a death wish, I have no fear of my own passing through those portals to eternity.  There exists a peace which surpasses understanding.
I touched the edge of it. 
Some days I have a firm grasp and other times this peace escapes my reach.

Many occasions bring back fresh memories of Lex. 
Each Springtime daffodil in bloom, each holiday without my son, reminds me he is gone.
Each Fourth of July brings back the red, white and blue
excitement and memory of my son's birth. 
Each July 30th brings back the dark memory of his departure from earth.
I remain confident that death is only the entrance into another beginning.
Time has passed and each year it is easier to count my blessings and not my loss.

For 'tis better to have had him, if even a short time...
than to never have known this miracle child of mine.
The hollow spot in my heart will always remain,
but the jagged edges of pain continue to heal
and Lex smiles down from above
as he sees my face light up in love. 
Love for the living.  My love of  life. 

He visits my dreams while I slumber;
"Go on now Mom"...nothing pleases me more
than to see you happy, at peace for the rest of your mortal life.

and the sun shone on

a resting  heart
a soul at peace

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA
GOD BLESS THE USA

GOD BLESS YOU MY SON
MOM'S THINKING OF YOU TODAY

Lindy Jo Jones
July 4th, 2001

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                                                                July 4,  2001