We survived. That's the phrase that best sums up the last week, and frankly sums up the last year.
I know it's a trite and over-used expression, but the last couple of weeks have been a roller coaster ride. In the last week alone we have survived the anniversary of Emma's death, her birthday, and her would-be graduation date. In between those dates, we watched proudly as Sarah received several awards at her middle school award ceremony and watched her "graduate" from 8th grade, capping off a year of remarkable accomplishments under the worst possible circumstances. Peter put together the "Celebrating Sarah Lil" video that's posted on the blog. Watching it, I was struck by Sarah's ability to continue to find joy and laughter in each day and how, because she was able to do that, she illuminated the darkness for all of us.
There are a lot of trite phrases that are not so trite for me anymore. Over the last year, I've learned what they really mean. The night that Emma died, I remember saying to one of our pastors, "Now I really know what it means to be heartbroken," and in this past week I experienced the truest meaning of the word bittersweet. The anniversary of Emma's death was bittersweet, bitter for the obvious reason, but sweet because our church hosted a lovely but simple ceremony in the Memorial Garden where Emma now rests. In the beautiful and serene setting of this garden, friends and family gathered and shared prayers and poems and very personal memories of Emma. It was comforting evidence that each of the people gathered continued to carry Emma in their hearts. It was sweet.
And on her birthday, a bitter occasion because she is not with us to blow out candles and make wishes, friends and families gathered to celebrate the birthday we didn't get the chance to celebrate last year. We feasted on her favorites: sushi and s'mores, and we tattooed ourselves with butterflies. We wrote notes to her that we burned in the firepit, letting the smoke carry our messages to her. And we lit sparklers, a tribute to the note sent to me by a friend after Emma's death that likened Emma to a sparkler: "She burned bright and fast, like a sparkler, and you could not help but stare right into it's fire. But before you knew it, the flame was gone...much too fast...much too fast." And though there was sadness in each of these gestures, there was sweetness and joy, too, as we remembered Emma together.
But perhaps the sweetest part of that evening was seeing and hearing Emma in her friends as they enjoyed each other's company. We saw her in her friend Chelsea who made sure she took in and enjoyed every part of the party that was planned. We heard her in her friend Chris, as he insisted that his mispronunciation was just his unique way of pronouncing that particular word. We saw her in her friend Allie as she held Andrew's hand when he got upset. We heard her voice among those belting "The Time Warp" in our living room. And we caught a glimpse of her as her friend Dan got magnetically pulled from a group mid-conversation when he heard the singing erupt in the other room. She was bitterly absent and sweetly present all at the same time.
And it strikes me that this word bittersweet, will forever characterize our life now that Emma is gone. We will never experience life with joyful abandon. The bitter taste will always be there. But so will the sweetness: the sweetness of memories new and old, the sweetness of friends and family, and the sweet presence of Emma when we connect with the many people who carry her in their hearts.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Scholarship award
Last night we presented Emma's memorial scholarship at her high school and a very dear friend (who drove 2 hours to be with us!) presented the scholarship at the high school across town. Here's what we said:
As you all know, our precious daughter Emma passed away a year ago. When we originally established this scholarship fund last June in her memory, we envisioned it as a way to celebrate her life. Emma was a gifted and passionate musician, planning a future in music, either as a performer or educator. Through the scholarship fund, we felt that we could provide other young musicians with the educational opportunities we had hoped to provide Emma. We hoped this would be a lasting and fitting legacy for our daughter and a way to remember not just her passion for music, but also her kind and compassionate nature and her unique ability to deeply touch people’s lives.
In short, we expected that each year, on this special evening, we would remember Emma for how she lived, not how she died.
In the intervening months, however, things changed. Over the past year, we have become increasingly aware of the importance of talking about how Emma died. You see, Emma died by suicide, and people just don’t talk about that. And because people don’t talk about it, suicide has gone virtually un-addressed by our nation. It’s one of the few remaining subjects of importance that no one wants to discuss openly and candidly. So we hope you will forgive us if we take a moment to do just that – talk about it.
After Emma’s death we learned some shocking statistics about suicide. We learned that in the US, suicide claims nearly as many lives each year as breast cancer and more than twice as many as HIV/AIDS. We learned that it is the third leading cause of death for people ages 15-24, the second leading cause of death for college students, and that it claims the lives of high school students at a rate of more than ten per day. We learned that depression, anxiety and other treatable mental illnesses that are root causes of suicide are extremely common in adolescence and young adulthood, but that many – far too many – who are suffering fail to ask for help because they are afraid, ashamed, or are just unaware that they CAN be helped.
Most of us don’t hear these fact and figures about suicide and mental illness because there is a wall of silence around them – a wall that is constructed from our own fear, ignorance, shame, and blame. And this wall is preventing us from having the kind of community and national dialogue that would start us on the path to eradicating this senseless loss of life.
We’ve seen this before, and there are important lessons we can learn. We couldn’t make progress in the battle against breast cancer until we were willing to talk about it openly. And the wall of fear, ignorance, blame and shame that surrounded HIV/AIDS had to come down before we could gather the collective will to do something about that disease.
Now we think it’s time to take a sledgehammer to the wall of silence that surrounds suicide and mental illness. Dialog will promote action, and action, in the form of education, awareness, treatment and research, will save lives.
That is a lesson we learned from many of you seniors. We watched as you turned your grief to action after Emma’s death. You got the facts, you raised money and you raised awareness. You weren’t afraid to speak up, and you weren’t afraid to act. You started chipping away at the silence and honored Emma in the best way possible, by doing what you can to be sure that this never happens again. For that we are forever grateful and hopeful that you will carry that spirit and determination to your colleges and beyond.
And now for the award…
As you all know, our precious daughter Emma passed away a year ago. When we originally established this scholarship fund last June in her memory, we envisioned it as a way to celebrate her life. Emma was a gifted and passionate musician, planning a future in music, either as a performer or educator. Through the scholarship fund, we felt that we could provide other young musicians with the educational opportunities we had hoped to provide Emma. We hoped this would be a lasting and fitting legacy for our daughter and a way to remember not just her passion for music, but also her kind and compassionate nature and her unique ability to deeply touch people’s lives.
In short, we expected that each year, on this special evening, we would remember Emma for how she lived, not how she died.
In the intervening months, however, things changed. Over the past year, we have become increasingly aware of the importance of talking about how Emma died. You see, Emma died by suicide, and people just don’t talk about that. And because people don’t talk about it, suicide has gone virtually un-addressed by our nation. It’s one of the few remaining subjects of importance that no one wants to discuss openly and candidly. So we hope you will forgive us if we take a moment to do just that – talk about it.
After Emma’s death we learned some shocking statistics about suicide. We learned that in the US, suicide claims nearly as many lives each year as breast cancer and more than twice as many as HIV/AIDS. We learned that it is the third leading cause of death for people ages 15-24, the second leading cause of death for college students, and that it claims the lives of high school students at a rate of more than ten per day. We learned that depression, anxiety and other treatable mental illnesses that are root causes of suicide are extremely common in adolescence and young adulthood, but that many – far too many – who are suffering fail to ask for help because they are afraid, ashamed, or are just unaware that they CAN be helped.
Most of us don’t hear these fact and figures about suicide and mental illness because there is a wall of silence around them – a wall that is constructed from our own fear, ignorance, shame, and blame. And this wall is preventing us from having the kind of community and national dialogue that would start us on the path to eradicating this senseless loss of life.
We’ve seen this before, and there are important lessons we can learn. We couldn’t make progress in the battle against breast cancer until we were willing to talk about it openly. And the wall of fear, ignorance, blame and shame that surrounded HIV/AIDS had to come down before we could gather the collective will to do something about that disease.
Now we think it’s time to take a sledgehammer to the wall of silence that surrounds suicide and mental illness. Dialog will promote action, and action, in the form of education, awareness, treatment and research, will save lives.
That is a lesson we learned from many of you seniors. We watched as you turned your grief to action after Emma’s death. You got the facts, you raised money and you raised awareness. You weren’t afraid to speak up, and you weren’t afraid to act. You started chipping away at the silence and honored Emma in the best way possible, by doing what you can to be sure that this never happens again. For that we are forever grateful and hopeful that you will carry that spirit and determination to your colleges and beyond.
And now for the award…
Monday, June 14, 2010
Relay for Life
The annual Relay for Life event benefiting the American Cancer Society was held in town this weekend. For those of you who aren't familiar with this event, teams of people gather from 5 pm one day to 5 am the next, keeping a team member walking on the track (theoretically) for the entire 12 hours. While that is going on teams are also hosting various fundraisers at their campsites, with all of the proceeds going to the American Cancer Society. The event in our town attracts approximately 2,000 people each year and this year the event raised more than $300,000.Our family began participating in Relay about 4 years ago on the invitation of the family of one of Sarah's friends. The first year our team was just our two families, but the following year Sarah and her friend decided to create a team of their own and the grown-ups from the two families became the default chaperones.
Even though the team was Sarah's, Emma was always an integral part of the team. We had come up with the, shall we say, unique, idea of having a wedding booth for our campsite fundraiser which we dubbed "Married to the Cause". Sarah's teammates were skeptical that this idea would be warmly received, but we were confident. We had seen this concept go over well at camp and we were sure it would be a hit with the teen and pre-teen scene at Relay. Because this was a foreign concept to the other team members, it was our family, Peter, Emma, Sarah and me, who had to launch the wedding booth the first year. Emma was fabulous in the role of the clergyman, masterfully imitating the clergyman from the Princess Bride, her favorite movie. Even though each year she seemed to spend more and more time with her own friends at Relay, Emma always took a spin as the clergyman and got an enthusiastic reception from the betrothed.
Needless to say, doing Relay this year without Emma made an already bittersweet occasion all the more so. Lots of things were going through my mind. As I watched giddy teens line up to marry each other, enthusiastically donning the classically horrid selection of bridesmaid dresses and other wedding apparel that we offered, it struck me as a quintessentially Emma affair. Emma never missed an opportunity to dress up - the more outrageous or overdone, the better. And Emma was all about love, so the idea of a booth where you express your affection to one, two or twenty people in an evening is Emma at her best.
But there was also the tremendous, heart-wrenching sense of loss. Relay 2009 is one of the vivid memories of Emma, just 2 weeks before she died, that plays over and over for us. And while we honored our friends lost to cancer and friends and family who have battled cancer, it was Emma who was at the center of our thoughts that evening. I was deeply touched by Sarah's young teammates who understood that and came up to us after the Luminaria ceremony to give a hug and let us know that they were thinking about Emma, too.
This year's event also brought the irony of last year's event into sharp focus - that Emma could enthusiastically participate in an event that is all about saving lives, and two weeks later take her own. It's incomprehensible.
Last fall, I listened to a speech at the local Out of the Darkness walk which raised money for suicide prevention. The speaker was a mother who talked about the daughter she had lost to suicide. Like Emma, she was smart, talented, connected to family, friends, colleagues, and her church - but that was not enough. And then the mother spoke the words that have stuck with me. "When you think about all that she had going for her - her family, her friends, her religion, her hobbies, and a job that she loved; it makes you realize that suicide is a very formidable foe." Boy, is that true. It's a foe that is the third leading cause of death for people ages 15-24 and the second leading cause of death for college students. It's a foe that claims nearly as many lives each year as breast cancer and more than twice as many as HIV/AIDS. It's a foe that, so far, we've been too afraid to challenge.
So I walked away from Relay this year dreaming about a day when 2,000 people from my hometown will raise hundreds of thousands of dollars and gather together on a football field to stare down a foe that we've been afraid to look in the eye; to issue a challenge to suicide and provide the resources to back that challenge up, just like we are doing for cancer; to dream of a time when there will be more answers about suicide than questions; and a time when the celebration of lives saved outshadows the mourning for lives lost.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Gift of a Memory
Every so often, someone will send me a note or email or Facebook message to share a special memory that they have of Emma. I love getting these. They are reassuring gifts because they have, in every instance, helped to confirm what I thought I knew about Emma.
We have learned that one of the tragedies of suicide is that survivors question, sometimes forever, whether they ever knew the person they've lost in this shocking and shattering way. A friend of mine who knew Emma all her life recently told me how much the blog was helping her erase the doubt she was feeling. We did know Emma. What we didn't know or understand was suicide.
I got a message on Facebook the other day from a former counselor at the camp that Emma & Sarah attended (and Sarah still attends). It was another one of these memory gems that is a picture of that sweet, smiley girl we love.
We have learned that one of the tragedies of suicide is that survivors question, sometimes forever, whether they ever knew the person they've lost in this shocking and shattering way. A friend of mine who knew Emma all her life recently told me how much the blog was helping her erase the doubt she was feeling. We did know Emma. What we didn't know or understand was suicide.
I got a message on Facebook the other day from a former counselor at the camp that Emma & Sarah attended (and Sarah still attends). It was another one of these memory gems that is a picture of that sweet, smiley girl we love.
Hi Nancy,
A note from me might seem out of the blue, but I have been thinking about all of you a lot these days...I check in on your blog often. The stories are wonderful to read and actually have helped me as a teacher to think about my high schoolers (and their parents) a little differently than I might otherwise. I can say that I do better now at watching out for each and every kid....and really really listening to what they say and watching their body language. I do think I was fairly good at this before, but reading about all this from your perspective has really opened my eyes.
I wanted to share this small memory of Emma with you because it sticks out in my head so distinctly...I never knew Emma that well because she was rarely on the field and was out of the Birdie section before my first summer. This memory is from her workgroup summer (2 years after my last full summer counseling). I was visiting for the day after meeting new baby C, and was touring Whip during rest hour. The former Birdies were all excited to say hello and talk for a bit. I was thrilled to be back and to get the warm welcome. As I came to the senior section, there was less enthusiasm because I knew few of them well (a small blow to my ego that there was no welcoming party like I saw from the juniors :P)...I thought about heading back up the field, but decided to peek in on the workgroupers instead. Coming to Kush, a few girls were outside reading and volunteered to sing their workgroup song. I then peeked in the door to many stares from foreign faces...until I heard a cheerful, excited "Hi J!" Emma had been reading on her top bunk, but immediately sat up straight, with a big smile on her face. I talked to her for about 5 minutes, looking at her from below, only seeing her torso and up in the dim-lit cabin. I can't remember the conversation, but that immediate welcome made my day :). I was so impressed that a girl I didn't know well was so welcoming and kind. So that is the image I have of her in my mind, smiling down from a Kush bunk.
From all I have read about Emma, this was completely in character. I hope it is one more story that can bring a smile to your face. I hope your summer will bring even more happy memories. Say hi to Sarah for me!
Thinking of you all,
J
A note from me might seem out of the blue, but I have been thinking about all of you a lot these days...I check in on your blog often. The stories are wonderful to read and actually have helped me as a teacher to think about my high schoolers (and their parents) a little differently than I might otherwise. I can say that I do better now at watching out for each and every kid....and really really listening to what they say and watching their body language. I do think I was fairly good at this before, but reading about all this from your perspective has really opened my eyes.
I wanted to share this small memory of Emma with you because it sticks out in my head so distinctly...I never knew Emma that well because she was rarely on the field and was out of the Birdie section before my first summer. This memory is from her workgroup summer (2 years after my last full summer counseling). I was visiting for the day after meeting new baby C, and was touring Whip during rest hour. The former Birdies were all excited to say hello and talk for a bit. I was thrilled to be back and to get the warm welcome. As I came to the senior section, there was less enthusiasm because I knew few of them well (a small blow to my ego that there was no welcoming party like I saw from the juniors :P)...I thought about heading back up the field, but decided to peek in on the workgroupers instead. Coming to Kush, a few girls were outside reading and volunteered to sing their workgroup song. I then peeked in the door to many stares from foreign faces...until I heard a cheerful, excited "Hi J!" Emma had been reading on her top bunk, but immediately sat up straight, with a big smile on her face. I talked to her for about 5 minutes, looking at her from below, only seeing her torso and up in the dim-lit cabin. I can't remember the conversation, but that immediate welcome made my day :). I was so impressed that a girl I didn't know well was so welcoming and kind. So that is the image I have of her in my mind, smiling down from a Kush bunk.
From all I have read about Emma, this was completely in character. I hope it is one more story that can bring a smile to your face. I hope your summer will bring even more happy memories. Say hi to Sarah for me!
Thinking of you all,
J
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Sarah on Sarah
People ask me all the time how Sarah is doing. Most of the time I say that she's doing the same as we are; having ups and downs and trying her best to find a new equilibrium in a world that has been turned upside down. And that's the truth. But other times when asked how Sarah is, I'll say that she is amazing. And that's the truth, too.
The other day Sarah was feeling badly that she didn't get another chance to be a sister. That she wasn't going to have the opportunity to learn from this experience and put that learning into practice, becoming a better, wiser sister. But I told her she was still a sister to Emma and that over the past year, she had been the wisest, best sister anyone could ask for. She has continued to love Emma unconditionally. She has refused to be ashamed, although there are some who would like her to be. She has honored Emma's life by fully participating in life herself. Once a kid who was content to be in the background, she chose this year to step out of the shadows. She courageously embarked on a journey of reflection and self-discovery and what she found were gifts and strengths she never knew she had. And in the process, she gave Emma's loss some meaning. It was as if she had adopted a new mantra, "It will not be a waste. I will learn and grow and I will make a difference for others because you made a difference for me."
I like that mantra. I want it to be mine, too.
Anyway, all this is just an introduction to a piece of Sarah's writing that I asked if I could share with you. It's her Author's Foreword to the portfolio of writing she put together from her year of work in Language Arts. I just love the piece and feel like it's not just a reflection of the growth in her writing, but also her growth as a person. And I think it's a window on the intuitive and insightful person she is. This is a piece of my Sarah:
Author’s foreword
Today, as I sit here with you reading my portfolio, I feel a lot like how I feel by the end of a four-day hiking trip in the high peaks. Now that I have done all of the work, all I can do is look back and feel proud of what this portfolio is. While I am hiking I barely have the time to stop and think about what I’m doing or have just accomplished. As you reach the top of a mountain you have a short chance to take in the view, but then as soon as you catch your breath you are back on the trail heading to your next destination, and then the next destination after that. I feel like this might sound like a negative thing, but I don’t mean it that way. All I’m really saying is that it is very easy to keep moving from one summit to the next and never look back at the view. This portfolio is my chance to take in all of the views I have seen this year. It’s my car ride home.
This year really has been like a trip through the woods; many times I have felt unsure of where I was going. I have gotten much better at reading maps as the weeks and months went by. This year I have had to do types of writing that I haven’t done before and I have to say, I’m proud of how those pieces turned out. Many times I’ve felt like the trail would never end, that I’d never see the view, and now that I’m here it doesn’t seem so long anymore. I have felt more out of breath this year than any year before, but now that I’m here on portfolio night, it is much more clear to me why I feel this way.
In my portfolio this year you will find a large variety of pieces, from short poems to seven page essays. Think of each piece I have in my portfolio as another mountain; some trails maybe a little rockier than others and no trail is completely smooth the whole way. Although very different, I think that they all show something about me as a writer or a person. I have written about each of the writing pieces that I decided to put in my 8th grade portfolio so that you can understand why I thought that the piece is worthy of a spot in my binder. These pieces of writing are called entry slips and they can be found in front of each piece. Each one of the pieces was chosen for a different reason. Some pieces I thought should be included because I thought that it was great writing. Some other pieces were included because I thought they showed growth. Others, well you can see for yourself.
The other day Sarah was feeling badly that she didn't get another chance to be a sister. That she wasn't going to have the opportunity to learn from this experience and put that learning into practice, becoming a better, wiser sister. But I told her she was still a sister to Emma and that over the past year, she had been the wisest, best sister anyone could ask for. She has continued to love Emma unconditionally. She has refused to be ashamed, although there are some who would like her to be. She has honored Emma's life by fully participating in life herself. Once a kid who was content to be in the background, she chose this year to step out of the shadows. She courageously embarked on a journey of reflection and self-discovery and what she found were gifts and strengths she never knew she had. And in the process, she gave Emma's loss some meaning. It was as if she had adopted a new mantra, "It will not be a waste. I will learn and grow and I will make a difference for others because you made a difference for me."
I like that mantra. I want it to be mine, too.
Anyway, all this is just an introduction to a piece of Sarah's writing that I asked if I could share with you. It's her Author's Foreword to the portfolio of writing she put together from her year of work in Language Arts. I just love the piece and feel like it's not just a reflection of the growth in her writing, but also her growth as a person. And I think it's a window on the intuitive and insightful person she is. This is a piece of my Sarah:
Author’s foreword
Today, as I sit here with you reading my portfolio, I feel a lot like how I feel by the end of a four-day hiking trip in the high peaks. Now that I have done all of the work, all I can do is look back and feel proud of what this portfolio is. While I am hiking I barely have the time to stop and think about what I’m doing or have just accomplished. As you reach the top of a mountain you have a short chance to take in the view, but then as soon as you catch your breath you are back on the trail heading to your next destination, and then the next destination after that. I feel like this might sound like a negative thing, but I don’t mean it that way. All I’m really saying is that it is very easy to keep moving from one summit to the next and never look back at the view. This portfolio is my chance to take in all of the views I have seen this year. It’s my car ride home.
This year really has been like a trip through the woods; many times I have felt unsure of where I was going. I have gotten much better at reading maps as the weeks and months went by. This year I have had to do types of writing that I haven’t done before and I have to say, I’m proud of how those pieces turned out. Many times I’ve felt like the trail would never end, that I’d never see the view, and now that I’m here it doesn’t seem so long anymore. I have felt more out of breath this year than any year before, but now that I’m here on portfolio night, it is much more clear to me why I feel this way.
In my portfolio this year you will find a large variety of pieces, from short poems to seven page essays. Think of each piece I have in my portfolio as another mountain; some trails maybe a little rockier than others and no trail is completely smooth the whole way. Although very different, I think that they all show something about me as a writer or a person. I have written about each of the writing pieces that I decided to put in my 8th grade portfolio so that you can understand why I thought that the piece is worthy of a spot in my binder. These pieces of writing are called entry slips and they can be found in front of each piece. Each one of the pieces was chosen for a different reason. Some pieces I thought should be included because I thought that it was great writing. Some other pieces were included because I thought they showed growth. Others, well you can see for yourself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)