When is Cinco de Mayo
August 8, 2008
When is Cinco de Mayo
Cinco de Mayo. May 5. I’m sending this on May 5 instead of May 7 for a couple of reasons. First, and foremost, Cinco de Mayo was Jason’s favorite holiday, above all others. (“Mom, Shannon asked me when Cinco de Mayo is!!” That look that only Jason could have, eyes twinkling, shit eating grin. I knew, but asked him anyway. “What’d you tell her?” The grin got broader…. “I told her I thought it was sometime in June…..” Yep. My kid.) Second, I’m having my tonsils out tomorrow, so I don’t know if I’ll be a functioning human being Wednesday. We’ll see.
For Jason. May 5, 2008
“Mom, I’ve got some news.”
“Okay, sweetie, good news or bad news?”
“Well, kind of… both. Which you want first?”.
I can remember having that conversation. We had it more than once. I don’t remember what the “good” news versus the “bad” news was. There was never any really bad news where Jason was concerned. Oh, there was the night he came to me, SO embarrassed, not knowing where to turn. I’m reasonably certain that conversation started with “I’ve got some news”, although I can’t be certain, because he had woken me from a sound sleep. He’d smashed his windshield with his fist, because of it (I’m not sure if that was the good news or the bad news!). He was WELL past the age where most young men become “men”….. but he believed as I do, in respect for self, respect for others, and responsibility for your actions. He knew, even at such a young age, that if you gave someone your body, you were giving them a piece of you that you could never take back. He’d done that, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. How incredibly blessed was I as a parent that I am the one he came to, the one he said, “okay here’s what happened. Now what do I do?” Of course, I did my best not to let him see me laugh, and explained that what had happened that night was a natural part of life. We talked all night, about love, and sex, and the difference in the two, and how he would experience both at some point in his life, and learn Life Lessons from both. Oh, and just by the way…. he loved Hollie til the day he died.
As Jason’s eight Angelversary hits me, I am left to wonder. What has happened to our world? Why do so many people not value LIFE any more? How did we turn into a “ME ME ME ME ME” people? When did how your actions effect other people stop mattering? When did it become okay to cause someone a LOT of pain, just because you can? When did constant anger, aggression and rudeness become the norm, rather than the exception? When did it become acceptable to show a total, complete lack of respect for others? When did, “It’s not my job” become a mantra? When did it become acceptable to simply disappear from someone’s life with no explanation? Yes, I have had to let some toxic people out of my life. But they know exactly why…. because I had enough respect for myself, and for them, to tell them. When did it become okay for everything to be someone else’s fault (I’m late for work because my Mother didn’t dry my clothes.” HELLO?????? They’re your clothes and it’s your job). I. Don’t. Understand. And I don’t think I want to.
When I remember Jason, and his baby brother, I remember the “please”, the “thank you” the “Ma’am and Sir”. I remember holding the door open, and helping older ladies (even if they were the ripe old age of 25, compared to their 10) out with their groceries. I remember the ENTIRE track team refusing to let me go to the restroom by myself, because they didn’t like the way the opposing team “looked at their “Mom”.” Where did that go? I remember, “let me help you with that”, “I’ll do that”, “You sit down, please. I’ll take care of it.” Where did that go? What has happened to our young people? Jason (and Rick) would be appalled. I have a vivid recollection of being at the movies with J. Three were two kids behind us, cutting up (it was a serious movie). First, he turned and looked at them. Next, he gave them the “glare”. Then, he calmly got up, walked around to them, and explained that they were bothering his Mother, and it would be best if they stopped. That was all it took. There are a couple of young men at work who remind me a lot of them (their Mom knows who they are). I can’t imagine them speaking to someone the way many people find acceptable now. I can’t imagine hearing anything but, “Yes, Ma’am” when asked to do something….. even if that yes ma’am is said through gritted teeth, as many of my sons’ yes ma’am’s were. It would be unkind to others to call them by name, but this is a public thank you to their parents. You raised four remarkable children, and I am very proud to call them friend.
Usually, on my sons’ Angelversary’s, or birthday, I remind you to LIVE your life. Today, I want to remind you of something a bit different. Yes, you need to grab every single moment of joy that life has to offer you. At the same time, you have a responsibility, as the future of mankind, to remember respect. Respect for self. Respect for others. Responsibility for your own actions. Period.
You have a responsibility to own your actions. You are going to become what YOU become, not what your parents are, or your friends are. You owe it, to YOURSELF, to be who YOU are. Not who your parents think you should be. Not who your friends think you should be. Who YOU are. Life is NOT easy. There’s a lot of pain involved, a lot of heartache. It is up to you to rise above it, learn from it, and become a better you. Carl Jung said, “I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become”. I agree with him. Yes, the deaths of my sons’ has changed me. But who I have become since they died rests on my shoulders. I owe it to them to be who they believed I was. It is MY choice to always try to behave with honor, courage, dignity and grace (I didn’t say I always succeed), when I’d rather have a tantrum like a three year old, or crawl in my closet and never come out. Because of who they believed I was. The times I try to drink it away? That’s my responsibility, too. By the way, you can’t drink it away. Just thought I’d tell you.
So, I’ve got some good news, and some bad news.
The good news? Jason lived. He was here. He laughed and loved. He saved lives. He taught me to see beauty everywhere. He showed me what courage was. Injuries that would cripple most young people were ignored by him, as he continued to compete (Remember he ran most of a season with a cracked hip. Yep, my kid.). He showed me the beauty of giving, when he helped his fiercest county rival stretch before a race…. then was the first to congratulate him when he won. He taught Alvin, too. Alvin is a coach now. He teaches teamwork and good sportsmanship. Because Jason taught it to him. He shared my sarcastic sense of humor, and made even the “frowniest” (his word) person smile. He instinctively knew what people needed… the clown, the son, the grandson, the quiet listening ear, the gentle words of advice, the smile, the gentle hug, the kick in the ass…. he just knew what was needed. And he did it. He left everyone feeling a lot better after they’d been around him. He taught me the sheer exuberance of running (yes, he had to drag me more than once. Now I’m itching to get well so I can do it again), the joy in “skopping and hipping”, the fun of playing in the rain. In all his years of lifeguarding, he never understood people rushing from the water for shelter when it started to sprinkle. (“Gee, Mom, whatcha think is gonna happen? They might get WET?”). He taught me how to cry, because he was a sensitive soul. He couldn’t stand to see someone suffering, or needing something. He’d give you the shirt off his back, literally. I know. I’m the one who had to replace “lost” items. He was also the most creative excuse meister I’ve ever known. His “scuses” were definitely…. different. Problem was, they worked on everyone except his Little Mother. That young man could sell ice to an Eskimo and make them think they’d gotten a good deal. People were attracted to him like moths to a flame. Charismatic, charming, handsome, BUILT, a natural leader. Like I frequently do (on vacation! Really! Never any other time!), he never actually started the mischief (not criminal mischief. Silly, fun mischief that harmed no one). He planted the seed, watered it carefully, watched it grow…. and then sat back and watched. My kid. To his toes. From the day he was born. Jason continues to save lives. I have the emails and message board postings and phone calls that tell me that me not being afraid or ashamed to tell his story has kept someone from ending his life. That is a very good thing. Jason taught me to be kinder than I have to be, because everyone is fighting some kind of battle.
The bad news? He no longer walks this Earth, not in a corporeal body. Yet, he lives. As long as we remember, he lives. And he continues to have a positive impact on this world.
For those of you who say I need to “move on” and “accept my sons’ deaths”…. I have. In a 24 hour span, I have had a regular guest bring someone whose child ended his life 2 weeks ago to meet me. She said she needed to know that she could still live, and that if I could, maybe she could. If I were silent, it would, number one, dishonor my children. To be ashamed of how they died would be to be ashamed of them. I refuse to do that. Iris Bolton says that every death brings a gift. You just have to look for it. I think mine is to help others walking this path, and to keep others from having to walk this path. Then, I had a couple of biker’s in the bar. I was being my usual mouthy self….. my regular bunch was there, and we tend to raise a ruckus. It makes them smile, it makes them happy, and it makes them come back….. and I truly love them all deeply. I wasn’t about to leave these to guys out of our shenanigans, so I drew them into it. Then one of them told me that this was his kind of “grand hurrah” weekend. His friend looked shocked. It isn’t something he talks of. He told me a lot, and I listened. Then I was quiet (yes, me) for a few minutes. I told him I had asked my personal Guardian Angels to watch over him during his surgery next week. And I told him, with total conviction, that he’s going to be fine. He’s promised to come back to JJJ next Bike Week. He came in melancholy, with that “look” in his eyes. He left with a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before. His friend remarked on it. My gift. From my son. Because I believe to my toes that I will see him again next year. And I’ll buy his first beer. All because of Jason, I helped 2 people in less than 24 hours. Is that a gift, or what?
Many, many of you have told me that, if I ever need anything, let you know. So, I’m giving you a challenge. I learned with Jason and Rick’s deaths that those are generally just words. Prove me wrong. Click the link in my signature. Donate ONE DOLLAR to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. One dollar. Nothing more, nothing less. Then forward this to 10 of your friends and ask them to do the same thing. THAT is what I need. To help save a life. Because life is so very precious. The most precious gift we are given is love. Don’t throw it away needlessly. If you fubar, say so, learn a life lesson, and move on. Times are tough right now, but tomorrow will be better. I refuse to believe anything else. Life might take some unexpected twists and turns, but, in the end, it all works out. Try to live your life so that you can look at yourself in the mirror every morning and like what you see. Don’t be afraid to say I’m sorry. Don’t be afraid to say I fubared. Accept responsibility, deal with the consequences, and go forward. Much easier said than done. I know. I’ve lived it. Remember,
“I forgive you” has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.
“I love you” is the same. I say it, not because you need to hear it, but because I need to say it.
My personal prayer to Mr. God and whichever Higher Being you believe in is that you find what you search for. Then, when you find it, grab it with both hands and never, ever let it go. Those we love are gone too quickly. Don’t waste a single moment.
Dearest Kidlet, I love you. Forever. I miss you. Forever. I need you. Forever. And I will be who you believed I was. Forever. Run with the wind and party with the Angel’s, my Little Love. Save a spot for me, please. I’ll have a Ciroc on the rocks and a shot of Jager, thank you. Make something fruity for your baby Bro, and pour my Andy a Miller Lite. Mom will have whatever has alcohol in it. See you when I see you.
Maximum respect,
Brenda Adkins, always Red’s & Red Man’s Mom
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