Two Years

It's hard to believe that it has been two years since my brother died. I am feeling quiet this anniversary, but I did want to share a letter that brought me great comfort shortly after his death. A friend lent me a book of writings of the Founding Fathers, and I found this letter from Ben Franklin to his niece, Elizabeth Hubbart. He was consoling his niece on the death of his own brother. I love his ideas on life and death, and the picture of a benevolent God that provides us with both:

Philadelphia, February 22, 1756.

Dear Child,

I condole with you, we have lost a most dear and valuable relation, but it is the will of God and Nature that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when the soul is to enter into real life; 'tis rather an embrio state, a preparation for living; a man is not completely born until he be dead: Why then should we grieve that a new child is born among the immortals? A new member added to their happy society? We are spirits. That bodies should be lent us, while they can afford us pleasure, assist us in acquiring knowledge, or doing good to our fellow creatures, is a kind and benevolent act of God - when they become unfit for these purposes and afford us pain instead of pleasure-instead of an aid, become an incumbrance and answer none of the intentions for which they were given, it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which we may get rid of them. Death is that way. We ourselves prudently choose a partial death. In some cases a mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, we willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth, parts with it freely since the pain goes with it, and he that quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains and possibilities of pains and diseases it was liable to, or capable of making him suffer.

Our friend and we are invited abroad on a party of pleasure- that is to last for ever. His chair was first ready and he is gone before us. We could not all conveniently start together, and why should you and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow, and we know where to find him. Adieu.

I love and miss you, Mike.

“I’m Yours”

When I first heard Jason Mraz’s song, “I’m Yours,” I immediately loved it. And one of the reasons I loved it was that it reminded me of Mike. Specifically, it reminded me of something he would write. The peppy way that Mraz sings, the fun and witty lyrics…it was like so many of Mike’s happier songs. The whole playful, light, romantic, vaguely philosophical vibe of the song was just “Mike” to me. I thought that the part about the mirror in the second verse sounded especially like something he would write, especially the line, “And so I drew a new face, and I laughed.” You know how Mraz draws out the word, “laugh,” and kind of laughs as he says it? That is something silly that Mike would do in a song.

Anyway, the sad thing was that I knew that Mike hated pop music, and so he probably didn’t like the song. And I kept forgetting to bring it up when we talked, so I never got his opinion of the song.

When he died, I heard the song a couple of times on the way to Macon for his funeral. I don’t know why, but it brought me comfort. I guess it was because it reminded me of all the good, happy, silly, creative parts of Mike. Shortly after I got home, my friend, Maria, arrived from Hawaii. Mike had just visited her a few months before, and she was full of memories of the fun that they had had. Specifically, she had brought a cd full of the songs that they had listened to while he was there. Every other song on the cd was, “I’m Yours.” Apparently, Mike had discovered it while in Hawaii and fallen quickly and obsessively in love with it. In fact, Maria had put the song as every other track on the cd as a nod to the massive amount of times Mike had made them listen to it when they were in the car!

I listened to “I’m Yours” all through that week. I listened to it on the way back and forth between my parents’ house and the Noe’s house, where we were staying. I listened to it on the way back and forth to the funeral home and back and forth to the church. I remember feeling at the time that God had given me some kind of emotional morphine to get through the devastation of that time, and every time I heard the song, it was like a fresh wave of the drugs kicked in. It elevated me above the mire and pain of the circumstances to a place where I could see the “big picture” of all that was going on, where I could rise above the messy suffering and take the long view. In that way, the song brought me peace.

About a month ago, Greg played me an a cappella version of the song by a group called, Straight No Chaser. I loved it. Having been raised in the church of Christ, a cappella music just resonates with my soul. I also loved that “Over the Rainbow” was mixed into their version of the song. Since then, I have listened to the song regularly whenever I missed Mike. At some point, I dug out all my old pictures of him and would flip through them as I listened.

A couple weeks ago, I was with Greg at Barnes and Noble and saw a display that said, “Gifts for Artists.” “Mike has a birthday coming up,” I thought absently, and wandered over to take a look. Never mind that he is no longer with us. Old habits die hard, I guess. Anyway, I didn’t find anything there, and it would have been pointless if I had. But I do have a gift for Mike, as it turns out. For his 28th birthday, I’ll give him the Straight No Chaser song, and the pictures that bring him back to me, if only for a brief time…

Happy birthday, brother.

Ways of Remembering

A few days ago, Anna and I were looking through Project 365, the scrapbook I did for 2009. We were in February, and I was having her name all of the people in the pictures. She named our family members, some of her friends, and Gaga and Granddaddy. Then, we got to this picture of Uncle Mike.

"Who's that?" I asked Anna.

"I don't know."

It really hit me then in a fresh, new way how Mike is gone and how Anna will never know her Uncle Mike. And there is nothing I can do about that. The rest of us, however, have found our own ways of remembering.

Luke knows all of the things that Uncle Mike got him, such as his ukelele from Mike's trip to Hawaii. Those possessions link him to Uncle Mike. So does the thought of Mike is in heaven, and so do the many pictures we have of him and Mike playing. Perhaps the oddest way that Luke has of remembering Mike is playing "Mike and Kim." After Mike died, Greg took all of my parents' VHS tapes and converted them to DVD's for them. Luke loved those DVD's and watched each one in rapture. Since then, he often wants to pretend that he and Anna are Mike and I. I have to call them, "Kim" and "Mike," which gets a little weird, frankly. But it is something that he really enjoys.

Mike's friends have their ways of remembering Mike as well. Sometimes it is something simple, like posting the lyrics to one of Mike's songs on a facebook status and having other people who loved him chime in:

Sometimes, their methods of remembrance are a little more elaborate:

To my knowledge, four of Mike's friends have gotten tattoos in memory of him. And those are just the ones I know of. And maybe I'm wrong, but four seems like an inordinate number of tattoos to get for someone who was never in the military, in a gang, or in prison. Seriously--that is crazy to me! I'm not a tattoo person, but I can't help but be impressed with the devotion. The tat on the left is on a boy (I guess he's a man, now--hard to believe) whom Mike "adopted" shortly after his dad left. Mike was a young teen, but he showed amazing devotion to these three brothers. The oldest (the one in the picture) is named Jordan, and he is just a few years younger than Mike. Throughout Mike's high school years, he really took these boys under his wing and taught them everything, from how to ride 4-wheelers to how to fish to how to pick up girls (sad, but true:)). Jordan posted this picture of his (unfinished) tattoo on Facebook. He described his motivation: "Mike always had my back, and now he always will."

Well, I've resisted the urge to get a tattoo:), but I still have my own ways of remembering Mike. I love the pictures I took of him shortly before his death, especially the ones of him helping Luke catch his first lizard and of him and Luke on a treasure hunt that he made for him.

Even these pictures are bittersweet, though, because Mike's smile is just a shadow of the true joy he used to have. He was struggling so terribly in those last days, and while those pictures portray heroism, they do not portray happiness. It was all he could do to keep it together.

So instead, I remember the silly Mike who grew up with me, the Mike who I made clubs with and built tents with as a child, who made hilariously idiotic videos as a teenager, who taught Sunday school class with me and worked joyously at Y.E.S. while we were in college, who called and left a hilarious message as an old black lady when we heard that we had gotten the job in South Carolina. (Greg and I still regularly quote him in his ridiculous accent: "The kids are goin' ta Chasston!")

And I remember him by seizing each day and living it for God. I remember him when I look at my kids and I realize that all my hopes and dreams for them are just that. They are fantasies. They are not real. What's real is the child in front of me. And their life doesn't have meaning because of something that they may do one day. Their life has meaning because God gave them breath in their lungs today. Whenever I think of Mike, I am reminded of that. And so I cherish every moment with my children and try not to put my hope in the future. I am guaranteed no such thing. Instead, I just love and hug and seek to mold and shape the child that God gave me today.

And that's how I remember Mike.

Happy Birthday, Mike

Today was my brother's birthday. He would have been 27. We spent Labor Day and today with my parents in Macon and had a really good visit with them. On Labor Day, they had some friends over to grill out and swim. Our dear friend, Mrs. Marcia, brought a "cake" for Mike:

I'm not sure of the significance of the cornbread, and I forgot to ask. It might have been something that she made that Mike loved. He was always passionate about the food he loved:).

She also brought some balloons to send up to Mike, with cards to write messages on. Luke helped Daddy sign his card:

And off they went:

It was so sweet of Mrs. Marcia, and a wonderful way to remember Mike with some of the people who loved him.

So, for his birthday gift, I will post something that he would have loved. He and I always had a list of things the other had to see/read/listen to. I would recommend, for example, Finding Neverland (which he loved--I knew he would:)), and he'd recommend Gone, Baby, Gone (which I liked, but it scarred me for life). We'd do the same with books, tv shows, and web clips. It was like our opinion of the thing wasn't complete until the other had seen it and we had discussed it. One of the things that strangely bothered me the most was that, at the time of his death, he had not seen a)Slumdog MIllionaire, b) the end of Battlestar Galactica, which he'd fallen in love with after watching an episode with us, and c) this video clip. (It bothered me to the point that my first dream about him was of me getting to watch all these things with him. Don't ask me why this was such an issue for me.)

So here's the clip. I knew he'd love it because it combines dancing, silliness, adventure/travel, and children, all of which he loves. I could totally see my brother doing this if he had the means--though he was a much better dancer than this guy:). Oh, and sorry it has a cuss word in the title. I didn't name it, people (and Mike would not have minded at all:)).

Happy birthday, Bubba.

Ways to get to Heaven

Last night, Luke was plotting a reunion trip for Uncle Mike. 

Every night, we pray for Uncle Mike--we thank God that he's in heaven, and ask Him to give Uncle Mike a big hug from us.  After the prayer last night, Luke volunteered that "Jesus makes Uncle Mike happy."  Yep, that's true.  Then, he asked when Uncle Mike was coming back down.  I explained (yet again) that Uncle Mike lives in heaven now, and how heaven is so great that people want to stay there forever.  So then, Luke wanted to go visit Uncle Mike.  Since I am pretty straightforward with my kids, I gently explained that the only way to get to heaven is either to die or for Jesus to come back and get us.  (And when we die, Jesus takes us to heaven.  Luke pushed for clarification there.  He was still needing a mode of transportation.)  I told him we would all be in heaven together one day, and he wanted to know who all would be there.  I took some spiritual liberties assigning salvation to various people, but I basically listed everyone he knows.  Then, I safely concluded, "Everyone who is a Christian will be there."  Luke asked, "Is Jack a Christian?"  (Jack is his 2 year old cousin.)  Ummmm, "well, people choose to be a Christian when they get older....but yeah, Jack will be in heaven."  I'm sure:). 

Still not satisfied, Luke wanted to go now.  But how to get up there?  He thought about it. 

"We could use a parachute.  I'm pretty sure we have a parachute in the attic."  Well, we can't use a parachute to get to heaven, buddy.  First of all, we don't have a parachute in the attic ("I'm pretty sure we do," Luke interjected), and secondly, parachutes mainly help us to get down from places, like from airplanes ("I think we should use ropes to get down from airplanes," was Luke's contribution there.)  After assuring him of the limitations of parachutes, Luke started again.

"We could use some magical beans."  What?  We have not read "Jack and the Beanstalk."  I asked him where he learned about magical beans. "On Max and Ruby, Max planted some magical beans, and a loooong vine grew up, and he climbed it up, up, up...way up to the sky!"  He was very enthusiastic about this plan.  After I stopped laughing and kissing him, I assured him that I wished we had some magical beans, but the only way to get to heaven is for Jesus to take us.  He seemed okay with that.

I hope Uncle Mike got to hear that conversation.  He would have gotten a kick out of it.  I know Greg and I did.  Kids are the best.

Mike

For those of you who don't know, my brother, Mike Sparrow, committed suicide on Monday afternoon. He had suffered for about nine years with bipolar disorder with ever-increasing severity. His feelings about this debilitating disease strongly affected his relationship with God, and not always for the positive. However, for the last month of his life, he returned to God with a renewed vigor and was dedicated to pursuing God's will in his life. We had so many Bible studies and prayer sessions, and I am so comforted now, not only by the knowledge of those times, but also by the daily prayers he recorded to give him strength throughout the day. On Monday morning, in fact, his prayer for the day was all about asking God to give him strength to be productive and live for God, for God to heal his mind, and for Dad and Mom, that they would have good days, and that they all would "get better at this." It was also clear that, unknown to us, he had been suffering terribly in the last weeks of his life. Knowing so well of both his faith and his suffering has helped us immensely; it gives us such peace that he is finally at peace and that he is free.

We also learned just how much he had affected those around him. We've always known that Mike was an amazing individual: loving, talented, smart, hilarious, athletic, and just gifted in so many ways. I could go on and on with individual stories, but honestly, if you knew him, you already know, and if you didn't, there's no way to explain it to you. You missed out on knowing a spectacular individual. According to the funeral home people, over 1,000 people came to his visitation, and that doesn't include the numerous cars who had to turn around and left because they couldn't get into the parking lot. The folks at Macon Memorial Park said it was by far the biggest visitation they had ever had, despite the fact that they had conducted over 1,000 visitations. The line stayed wrapped around the building, as people waited hours to offer their condolences to our family. It was truly overwhelming.

I am writing this and including the video as a way to comfort anyone who wasn't able to attend or who knows me but not Mike. The song in the background is his personal version of "Sanctuary." I love, love, LOVE it, because not only is it hauntingly appropriate, but also because his new verses describe how we are to be "sanctuaries" for each other. I've never been more aware of the importance of this truth, and I've never been more grateful for everyone who has provided a sanctuary for my family and me.

Thank you all, and thank you so much for your prayers. Please keep them coming.

Pre-Christmas Christmas

Luke and Anna actually had three Christmases this year, lucky kids:  one with the Kirby's at Thanksgiving, one with my family on Dec. 22, and then the one on, um, Christmas.

We really enjoyed the visit with my parents and brother, as evidenced in the pictures below:

 

Is that my dad watching a movie?  And a 3D movie (the Polar Express, a gift from my Aunt Linda), at that?  Now, that is a sight you don't see every day!

Luke was excited to start opening presents:).

By this time in our prolonged Christmas season, Luke had opening presents down cold.

He liked his doctor kit from Gaga.

Anna wasn't as excited about the present as she was about the challenge of lifting it by herself!

Success!

Luke was so good at opening presents that he helped Uncle Mike open his:).

It was so much fun getting to celebrate with my family!  We are truly so blessed to have not one, but two wonderful families to be apart of.  And my children have some amazing grandparents!

The "Big Week": Thurday

On Thursday, Mom, Dad, Luke, Anna, Mike, and I went to the Georgia Aquarium.  They say it is the biggest in the world, and I don't mean to be flippant, but for the biggest aquarium in the world, it's really not that big.  We knocked out the whole thing in about two hours, and that included lunch.  And granted, we were guided by a Luke-size attention span, but still.  The whole experience was a blast, however, and the aquarium was pretty amazing. 

At the entrance to one of the areas.

Anna is mapping out our route.

This one wants to say hi.

We are in this tunnel where you are basically surrounded by fish tank.

Okay, so maybe it is a pretty big aquarium.

Touching the anemone, where Nemo lives.

Lunch time!  Yes, my daughter is chewing on a pizza crust.  Don't judge me:).

Buddies.

Anna had to take it all in.

We also saw a 3-D movie, compliments of Uncle Mike.  It was Luke's first movie theatre experience, and he wasn't so much a fan of the glasses.  Or the "special effects" of water and air shooting at you.  But other than that, he enjoyed it.  The aquarium as a whole, though, definitely got two thumbs up from Luke, who had a blast hanging out with Uncle Mike all day and seeing all of his friends from Finding Nemo!

Family Visits and New Tricks

This week brought a couple of family visits: my mom dropped in for her usual biweekly visit, and then my brother came in for a couple of days. Grandma’s visit is always a highlight for Luke, but this was Luke’s first time spending extended time with Uncle Mike without my parents around. And Luke quickly realized that Uncle Mike is just as hilarious as Grandma! It was crazy: after just one afternoon with Luke--who started off quite skeptical--Mike had Luke cracking up with the abandon only reserved for Grandma. Watching him interact with Luke really revealed to me how much Mike gets from mom. Their ways of playing with children—the naturalness, the goofiness, and the originality—are so similar. And while Grandma has Uncle Mike beat in the affection and maternal departments, Mike dominates in strength and energy. He can toss Luke around for hours, and do such ludicrous things as get on his hands and knees and push Luke around in a toy dump truck on a playground padded with woodchips (Imagine how taxing that has to be—a TOY dump truck, not one that is meant for children to ride in it. Luke weighs about five times as much as that thing. I can’t believe he actually fit in it! Luke, by the way, thought this idea was genius. And Mike would not only push him all over the place, he would pick them up and “fly” them around. I was tired just watching them!) Mike also introduced Luke to the joys of standing on the outside air conditioner thing (Luke was amazed by the way it would blow his hair straight up) and unique ways of mixing his toys (Mike’s response upon seeing Luke’s toy cement mixer: “I bet the monkey would enjoy this.” And then he gave Luke’s plastic monkey a ride in the cement mixer. Luke loved it.)

The only other thing that has stood out about this week is that Luke’s daredevil ways seem to be returning. Our church has a toddler playground with several small slides, which Luke loves to slide down. A couple of days ago, he was sitting backward at the top of one of them, about to stand up and explore the connected play area. Then suddenly, without warning and without once looking back, Luke decided to push off and go down the slide backwards! Luckily, I was at the bottom to catch him! Luke thought it was hilarious, and it opened a whole new world of possibilities for him. He went down on his stomach, feet first. And then face first. And then on his knees. Sometimes, before I can stop him, he stands up and basically throws himself down the slide, knowing (I assume) that we are going to catch him. We obviously strongly discourage this last practice, especially, and the rest have me concerned. But for now, I know that Luke is not going to be anywhere near a slide unless I’m with him, and I help him up it, and I’m there to catch him. And by the time he’s old enough to slide on his own, I’m hoping he’ll have the cognitive skills to know what would happen if he slid down backwards with no one there to catch him! And also, even though his abandon kind of concerns me, I do like the faith that he obviously has in us that we will catch him when he falls. It’s a theory that he’s been consciously testing for quite some time now, and though it puts a lot of pressure on us (“Luke, make sure mommy’s paying attention before you decide to flop off the rocking horse!”), it is definitely a lesson I want him to learn: we will always be there for him, and we will always do everything possible to catch him when he falls.