For Curt and Wyatt: My Unsung Grief Heroes …
February 23, 2002. That Saturday, glass shattered, metal crashed, and hopes and dreams poured out onto a winding country road. When Joseph died, the lives of his two younger brothers were changed in an instant.
Our story has many heroes: EMTs, State Troopers, a pastor-friend, a buddy, a church family, and a benevolent community.
But the most heroic – the bravest of the brave – are two valiant young boys. Boys who were confronted with death and the afterlife at tender ages. A fifteen-year-old and a twelve-year-old who battled grief and adolescence simultaneously.
Boys, together with their older brother, filmed a goofy movie on bicycles one week, and the following week, they wandered around a funeral home while their grief-stricken parents chose the casket for their brother.
Boys who abruptly lost their cast member, chess partner, school taxi driver (who blared AC/DC’s Highway to Hell on the way to make them laugh), basketball competitor, sandcastle building buddy, and Tae Kwon Do opponent.
Boys who didn’t sign up for this crash course on how to navigate holidays, family ballgames, brotherly pranks, or life as two instead of three.
Boys who miss having more than one brother now only have one brother to stand up at their wedding, spoil their children, bury their parents, and grow old with.
God took two shattered boys and held them as their faith was tested through suffering, questioning, and searching. And He grew them into imperfect but extraordinary men.
Men who rely on one another for comfort, advice, and as a confidant.
Men who share a love for jazz, art, movies, and late-night debates.
Men who pray together and for each other. Men who forgive and recognize their need for forgiveness. Men who love Jesus.
These men are adored and respected by their parents for how they do life (and death).
My two wildly creative, entertaining, incredible men.
Curt and Wyatt, my unsung heroes.