This blog is not really another chronicle of how a family survived heart-wrenching loss. Our family’s journey, although certainly unique for us, is not new to humankind. A sea of weather-worn hundred year-old headstones in our son’s small hilltop cemetery serve as a constant reminder of far too many lives cut painfully short.
But as we pushed through this horrible time in our lives, something very unexpectedly rose from the ashes of our grief as if to say Jeremy’s influence had not yet come to an end. In the quiet of his resting place, God chose his impact to be revealed in hundreds of “conversations” captured in small, wire-bound journals protected from the elements by a handmade oak box. Year after year, journal after journal, the conversations continued.
For the longest time I struggled putting a father's feelings into words, yet mercifully chapter after chapter of Jeremy’s legacy was already being handwritten by others. Visitors would stop by to pay their respects, read previous entries and join in the “conversation” with our son, just as if he’d never left us. Sometimes they were incredibly funny like when Corrine lamented to Jeremy about a rather long conversation she had at the wrong gravesite with a “total stranger”. And at other times could reflect the innocence of two small grade school children who lived next door, "It's too bad we didn't know you Jeremy. It seems like a lot of people love you!" (Present tense) As diverse as the conversations were, however, they all had one thing in common; they revealed how the ripples of influence of our lives continue to impact others long after we’re gone.
His journals become a unique chronicle of the journeys of hundreds of people and how one young life made a difference to so many. Expressions of loss, legacy and hope converged in that place to create a backdrop for each visitor’s personal exploration. As you share in these conversations, perhaps you will find yourself asking …
If a journal was placed alongside my headstone some day, what would those conversations with me look like?
Would friends and family remember warm and uplifting interactions with you or express regret for time that can’t be recaptured? Relationships that were taken for granted or recollections of your encouraging words and acts of kindness and compassion? You see, we never know when our own legacies will be written. Jeremy didn’t. He left that Sunday afternoon in 1998 for a swim with friends not knowing he would never return to his earthly home again. Please visit often and join in the conversation as we post other entries from The Journals.
Hi Jeremy,
“Yep, it does seem harder lately. I’m remembering last summer and trying to relive every moment of your last days here. My soul is tired, Jer. Yet even as I sit here and write this I can imagine you saying, ‘But Mom, it’s worth it! Hang in there. So I will my dear son, I will. In Jesus strength and help and in his love, I will.
Love Mom.”
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Thinking of you all as I sit here in a quiet house...August 9, 2009. I remember so well the phone call we received from Ben that afternoon and our life changed...my first instict was to have my kids home immediately. I wanted to see them, hug them, make sure they were okay. And as I think of you, that was probably your instinct too, but not possible, your child was not okay. I have watched all of you over the years and am amazed at what God has done in each of you lives. You have hurt, and raged, and grieved deeply and yet through it all you have loved. Loved me, loved others and loved each other. You are all so dear to me, blessings on you all. We will ALL be together one day, with Jeremy, in a place where there will be no more tears, thank God for a future and a hope. Love you, Nancy Dodson
ReplyDeleteThe most precious memory I hold of Jeremy is our last journey together. We had come down to Newberg for July 4th and I remember Jim had let Jeremy light off the fireworks in the
ReplyDeletecul-de-sac. He was giddy! It was one of those fabulous family weekends. As we headed home, we took Jeremy with us as he was meeting his grandpa in Olympia for a week with him. Jeremy was riding in the front with his Uncle Bill and had just finished reading the "Left Behind" book. I had not heard of it and as Jeremy spoke so passionately about the message in the book and his faith, I recall thinking he was so wise at such a young age and I desired that deep faith too. He made me hungry for it.
We all had lunch together at Round Table pizza in Olympia before sending Jeremy off with grandpa and the memory of the day resonates in my soul so clearly. The laughter, the hugs and Jeremy eating the last slice of pizza. I am so thankful for this day with Jeremy.
Jim Di and Amy; as God promises, you as a family will be reunited one day forever and as you wait for that day know that we love you and pray that each day fills you with warm, loving memories of an amazing son and brother.
I'm so glad you're sharing these journal entries. For so long, it seems, "Conversations with Jeremy" has been on your heart to inspire, encourage, challenge and meet people where they're at. That was Jeremy's way-- something he must have learned from you. Thanks for your courage to share the journey and remember that our lives-- all lives are intertwined in such a precious and vulnerable way.
ReplyDeleteDi's entry that you posted here is one of my favorites. Those words have stuck with me over the years like the voice of a faithful friend whispering in dark places.
with love and gratitude,
Andrea