Thursday, May 05, 2005
I always see John in his Chef's whites. I don't see him in the hospital, though God knows I did. I never see him sick. I see Big John standing strong and proud and confident with the short, swift movements all good cooks have. I see him behind the line at Christopher's working hard, learning and concentrating to become better every day.
Wasn't he lucky? In the short proscribed arc of his life, didn't he have a passion?
I believe it is not the legnth of a life that makes for success, nor is it wealth. It is the passion. John had a vision and a passion towards which he strived every day.
Wasn't he lucky? And weren't we lucky to know him?
-Jackie & Bruce
Wasn't he lucky? In the short proscribed arc of his life, didn't he have a passion?
I believe it is not the legnth of a life that makes for success, nor is it wealth. It is the passion. John had a vision and a passion towards which he strived every day.
Wasn't he lucky? And weren't we lucky to know him?
-Jackie & Bruce
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
May 4, 2005To all of John and Becca's friends and family (for some of us who so fervently depended on this blog for our connection during John's journey), I come here to tell you all how sad I am that John is not here today, and how proud I am of John's mom. I have known Becca and her family a long time, at least 20 years. I remember when John was in school and how hard Becca advocated for him always. And of how well he did. I can remember many of those proud events. I remember the pictures of both boys on her station. And we still see those pictures today.Both John and Scott worked in my store. I can also remember some of the harder times, but Becca always won. She took her boys to camp, to Disneyland, to movies, to many places. Her boys were her life. John always was the sweetest, most polite young man. He loved his cats and loved our cats in the store in a very gentle kind way. I have always thought that the way men (and all folks) relate to animals is a very good predictor of future behavior in life. And John was that kind, proud, gentle and sweet soul with a smile to melt your heart. I think of John and Becca every day. I want Becca to know that I know she did everything she could for John. And I believe that John knew that. John and Becca have my utmost respect and love. And I hope that Becca will find some relief soon to move ahead with her life. I know that John would want her to do that. None of us will ever forget them. I hope that the future will be kind to Becca. I believe that John is at peace. And, Becca, you are my role model. LoveJanet Kotlier
I have been trying so hard to come up with the proper words that express how this last year has been. I am no Hemmingway, I can only express that the air is still knocked out of me, I cannot believe it has already been a year and while I no longer count weeks or remember Tuesday as the “D” day there are very few moments that John is out of my thoughts.
Usually the thoughts are seeing something he would of enjoyed, hearing a loud car and looking to see if it is him, paying me a heavenly visit. I look for him everywhere. I look for his approval everywhere.
Most of the time I wonder if I have stepped off the edge of the earth, after all when one loses a child, the world no longer is round, and I know my toes are always gripping on to the sharp edge, daring me to jump.
Mostly I have sought comfort in God, trying to make some sort of real contact. Tried it at first through meditation, then prayer, incense, dead sea bath salts, staring at the flame of a white candle, seeking spiritual growth. So far God has hidden from me, does he fear my wrath of a mother who never should have ever been welcomed to the club of a Mom who lost a child? I still feel very uncomfortable in my new suit. When John first passed I remember seeing him in a dream, in his ill fitting “John” suit as it was symbolic of John’s earthly body giving out and how he didn’t want what failed him in life to touch his soul again. This is how I feel. The suit of “mother who lost a son” feels foreign and stings my body. Its material is scratchy. I itch until my skin is raw and occasionally until it bleeds. When I changed my life to have the boys, I never bargained I would have to face this. I do think God should come and have a little conversation with me. Either way, God will hear from me, dead or alive. If not here on earth as I will continue my search for communication, he will hear about it when I arrive in his presence, John at my side. I may even have to pull his ear and lead him to my question: How in the world did you let this happen? Not just to me, but Pop, Scott, Aud, Laura, Jen, Bill, John, Bob, Laura, Marcia, Lou, Abby, Juna, Jake, Megan, Logan, Analise, Danielle, Jackie, Bruce, Tricia, Nasrin, Janet, Laurie, Carole, Tony, Chamie, James all of the people who now have to be with me with part of my life force deflated never to return.
There are times I cry because I cannot travel back in time for a do-over, (believe I tried looking for time travel on the internet), that my precious John is now a pile of ashes in the corner of my room, or a really neat redwood tree in the park, and still not here with me.
Usually the thoughts are seeing something he would of enjoyed, hearing a loud car and looking to see if it is him, paying me a heavenly visit. I look for him everywhere. I look for his approval everywhere.
Most of the time I wonder if I have stepped off the edge of the earth, after all when one loses a child, the world no longer is round, and I know my toes are always gripping on to the sharp edge, daring me to jump.
Mostly I have sought comfort in God, trying to make some sort of real contact. Tried it at first through meditation, then prayer, incense, dead sea bath salts, staring at the flame of a white candle, seeking spiritual growth. So far God has hidden from me, does he fear my wrath of a mother who never should have ever been welcomed to the club of a Mom who lost a child? I still feel very uncomfortable in my new suit. When John first passed I remember seeing him in a dream, in his ill fitting “John” suit as it was symbolic of John’s earthly body giving out and how he didn’t want what failed him in life to touch his soul again. This is how I feel. The suit of “mother who lost a son” feels foreign and stings my body. Its material is scratchy. I itch until my skin is raw and occasionally until it bleeds. When I changed my life to have the boys, I never bargained I would have to face this. I do think God should come and have a little conversation with me. Either way, God will hear from me, dead or alive. If not here on earth as I will continue my search for communication, he will hear about it when I arrive in his presence, John at my side. I may even have to pull his ear and lead him to my question: How in the world did you let this happen? Not just to me, but Pop, Scott, Aud, Laura, Jen, Bill, John, Bob, Laura, Marcia, Lou, Abby, Juna, Jake, Megan, Logan, Analise, Danielle, Jackie, Bruce, Tricia, Nasrin, Janet, Laurie, Carole, Tony, Chamie, James all of the people who now have to be with me with part of my life force deflated never to return.
There are times I cry because I cannot travel back in time for a do-over, (believe I tried looking for time travel on the internet), that my precious John is now a pile of ashes in the corner of my room, or a really neat redwood tree in the park, and still not here with me.
