Warning: This post was a very cathartic experience for me, but may be pretty depressing for you. Feel free to skip it.
I have a deep dread of middle of the night and early morning calls. They never seem bring glad tidings. But since it was 10:00 on a sunny Mazatlan morning, I felt absolutely no alarm when the telephone started to ring. I looked at the caller ID. It was my Mom. My mood immediately picked up a bit, and I answered the phone, "What's up?"
"Jay, I have some sad news." My family has always called me Jay. It's short for JJ, which is short for Jennifer Juniper, a song some of you may remember that was popular several years before I was born, but I guess just kinda stuck with my parents. "Amos died last night." Then nothing else. She just waited. That's one of the great things about my Mom. She gave me all the time I needed.
My mind struggled to process what my Mother had said. I only knew one Amos, but it couldn't possibly be him. He's 8 years younger than me. And if I'm not old enough to die, he certainly isn't. Finally, I gathered enough wits to ask the question, "My cousin Amos?"
It's funny. I will always remember him as this eight-year-old kid, all wild blond curls and beaming smile. He was such a happy, loving child. One Christmas morning, when I was a teenager and had really embraced the concept of sleeping in, Amos couldn't stand to wait to open his presents any longer. He launched his little body onto my bed and covered me in kisses to wake me up. My teenage self was not amused, but my adult self looks back and realizes that it was Christmas, for goodness sake. The kid was eight. He managed to last until 10:00 am. And he wasn't whining or complaining a bit. He just loved. He was a really good kid.
My Aunt Cecily was always a tough and sassy woman with a mischievous streak and a rolling laugh that bubbled out almost as often as she took a breath. Cecily was in the Army, and rose to the rank of Captain. Pretty impressive.
When Desert Storm started, I was really afraid she was going to war. We finally got the news that her unit was not one of the ones that was chosen for deployment in Iraq. When I talked to her on the phone, I mentioned that she must be pretty relieved. She went ballistic. No, she went sassy. "This is my job. I have trained for it my entire adult life. How would you like it if you were told you weren't allowed to do your job?" Oh. I hadn't thought of it that way. I understood her point, but I was still glad she wasn't going.
A little after that, her marriage with my Uncle Craig fell apart. After the divorce, they both turned to God in a zealous, reborn kind of way. It's kind of ironic that they found God, but had to lose each other in order to do it.
Cecily started attending an annual religious convention in Fort Worth, so she and Amos came to stay with us every summer. It was kinda strained at first. We had all been raised Catholic, and here she came every year talking about the power of the Word, and faith healing, and other things that I associate with corn flake crazies.
But as I grew up (and away from Catholicism), I began to understand that everyone's relationship with God is a deeply personal thing. For some of us that means a private relationship, and for others it doesn't. She also backed off a little and wasn't so wide-eyed, in-your-face with her faith, at least with me. I also realized that her faith wasn't a temporary thing. She has a strong understanding of her faith every day. She goes on missions to parts of the world I wouldn't consider visiting and helps people. And her laugh still bubbles up and carries me away, even when she is trying hard to be serious.
A few years later when they came for their summer visit, she brought her new husband, James. James was a great guy. He was really good for Cecily and Amos, and he loved them both so much. He was easily welcomed into our family and a comfortable fit. James and I used to sit around in the afternoons and do the day's New York Times crossword puzzle together. Never in my life have I met anyone who wanted to do crosswords with me. It was a special thing we had together. It was like he had always been a part of the family. James was really good at that — building relationships.
The last time I saw Amos, he was 14. It was the summer before he started high school. He still had a boyish face and the wild blond curls and beaming smile, but I could see the shadow of the man's face underneath, a little preview of what he was to become.
That was right about the time that things started to get really difficult for Amos. Everyone assumed that he had the regular teenage hormonal thing going on, he just handled it a little worse than most. Of course, he had the divorce and remarriage of both of his parents thrown into the mix, so we all expected a little durapowered puberty.
Amos was finally diagnosed as bipolar, but not before he developed an addiction to drugs that he struggled with until the day he died. He found some happiness along the way, but his adult life was filled with more challenges than triumphs. He spent 18 months in prison after high school.
A week ago, he was in a particularly low low, and he tried to commit suicide by cutting his arms and throat. He was rushed to the hospital, and, amazingly, his life was saved. Of course he was put on a psychiatric hold and was evaluated. On Wednesday, he was judged well enough to go home and discharged, armed with two prescriptions to manage and maintain his emotional state. Wednesday night, he took his prescriptions and went to bed. Thursday morning, his wife woke up next to a husband that was blue and cold.
After having survived the bipolarity, the drugs, and the serious suicide attempt, the prescriptions he was given were contraindicated. The chemical cocktail killed him. God shrugged.
After telling me the story, my mom said, "And James doesn't know yet."
Alarm bells went ricocheting through my brain, and I asked "Why doesn't James know?"
Thats when I discovered a major drawback to living in a different country from the rest of my family. As the situation developed, no one felt like I needed to be told until they could tell me the full story of what was going on. By the time the situation was stable, it was old news, and my family forgot that I didn't know.
Last summer, Cecily and James were doing yard work. They took a break and went into the kitchen, where Cecily started to make lunch. James collapsed. Cecily called 911 and performed CPR until the paramedics arrived, but his brain was deprived of oxygen for over eight minutes. He was taken to the hospital, and all life-saving measures were applied. His body survived, but his mind did not.
For the past year, Cecily has been caring for her husband, who can smile and express affection, but lacks most higher cognitive abilities. Last week, when she was turning him, she accidentally rolled him onto the floor, dislodging his feeding tube. He had just returned from the hospital when Amos died.
I keep thinking about Cecily. I can't stop thinking about her. She lost her husband and her only child in a single year. I keep wondering where is God ? How can He take so much from a woman who has given Him so much? How will she survive this? How can anyone survive this? She has the strength of a woman ready to go to war for her country. She has strength of faith. But does she have the strength for this?
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|72.35.121.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s MicJennifer, It's good you felt comfortable enough in your blog to tell us Amos's story and surrounding situation. There is not a single life story that is not interesting and that doesn't teach us something. Glad you shared it....especially if it makes you feel better. That was quite a shock for you to absorb.
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|200.56.143.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s NancyJennifer, I am so sorry. It is a hard story to read, but being away from family and missing the James part of the story is really hard to take, I'm sure.
But with regard to your aunt, I think you know the answer. She is a strong woman and she'll find a way to get through. I find it poignant that you wrote this on Sept. 11, a day where so many people had to find the strength within them to go on, and have.
With regard to God, I have no idea. But if I believe anything I believe that the strength we find within ourselves at times like this is divine.
(Hug)
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|189.174.175.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s Street DogJennifer,
I am deeply sorry for you and your families pain . . . words are cheap but some are meant to heal “Lo siento”
With respect and remorse, Dog
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|200.77.75.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s AnonymousLittle One. So sad to hear of your loss and confusion. Makes me wonder if when i saw you Viernes was before or after your sad news? You did seem a lil distracted but always warm and loving, as usual.
"If it doesn't kill us, it makes us stronger." Sometimes we truely wonder how strong must we be.
We are all here for you. So many of us. Your new family away from your old home.
You give us so much here. Let us be here for you now.
If you need anything just call. I am alway's here for you.
God Bless.
Te Amo
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|Registered |m-d-Y H:i:s AngelThis too shall pass. That other has solution by someone in the family developing an email newsletter sent out periodically to all. Our very best thoughts to you and your family.
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|SAdministrator |m-d-Y H:i:s jenniferThank you, everyone, for you kind thoughts and prayers. I have received much love and support here and by private email. And thank you helping to carry my burden. Writing is a process that allows me to get close to and examine my feelings, and then kinda let them go. It was really healing for me. I hope you all get an extra scoop of love and joy.
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|209.30.46.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s Bryan Baskin - Sorry to hear this...Hey Jennifer,
When I saw the title and first few lines on the main page, I thought something had happened to your mom. Still, I can't say I'm relieved to read the rest of the article. I'm very sorry for your loss. I've been very fortunate in not having a death in the family for many years and I'm not looking forward to the day when I get that call.
Take care,
Bryan
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|67.190.192.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s wolfiered1Jennifer, live your life and they will come around. Given my watching from a distance and reading your thoughts they would be lucky to be near you and Chuck. Change is difficult for us all, especially family. I think we all are experiencing it these days, if you are not, then God bless. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, I am personally uplifted by reading them. I am lucky to have found you and your blog. Wolfie
PS, hope one day be part of your world down there in (slowly) Mexico. Although, I am saving up for 75 degree air conditioning year round.
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