Morning August 29th, 2014 Kendra and I were among other things, football buddies. From the time she could watch television and understand the basics of college football, we watched games together. I’m not an expert about football, but I did play linebacker in my day and have a good knowledge of basics. Kendra was an apt pupil, quickly learning about offense and defense, player’s numbers and all the basics that made football interesting to us. She was a Seminole fan from the beginning because of my influence. My dad went to FSU in the 50’s, my youngest brother went to FSU in the early eighties and Kendra went in the early two thousands. Kendra wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life. She began college with a full scholarship at the University of Central Florida with the major in music and voice. She transferred to FSU again with a scholarship to FSU in music and voice. One evening when she was home, she told me what she wanted to do and that she wanted to return home to Pensacola and attend the Univ. of West Florida, my Alma mater. She came home and graduated with a degree in the area of business. Kendra was always there to cheer on the Noles and for many a year we would watch games together. She was a relentless, optimistic cheerleader for the Seminoles even in the days when things were not so good. Saturday, Florida State will have a stiff test in Dallas playing against the Oklahoma State Cowboys. She was going to attend that game with Ed. Instead I will watch the game here at home with Shirley. Putting on the colors will be hard because we almost always talked before a game and sometimes during a game. No one had more joy when the Seminoles won, or took it harder when they lost than Kendra. She was a fierce and loyal fan of the Noles and her friends delighted in her emotions, sometimes teasing her, but always I think supporting her. I will miss her excitement and her encouraging words and belief that the Seminoles would always pull it out. Her eyes and smile will be missed the most. When Kendra smiled her smile was wide and genuine and her eyes were always wide and sparkled when she was happy. Kendra had my emotions but sometimes they ran deep like her mother’s feelings. When she hurt, it hurt deep and I know disappointment was difficult for her. Sister and Ed went through so much to have little Meredith and part of my grief is because after all she went through she was never able to be with her baby. If anything cuts me deeper than losing Kendra it is the great pain that hangs over me because she was never able to hold her child before she went home to our Lord. We considered bringing the baby to Birmingham briefly but there was simply too much risk for Meredith and there was the knowledge that Kendra may not have even known Meredith was there. The damage that Kendra suffered was so great. It wasn’t worth the risk for Meredith or the disappointment that could have hung over everyone. I found the courage last night to look in one of the albums we have from Kendra’s baby days. I found a picture of Kendra around the same age Meredith is now. The resemblance is quite striking to me. Though the copy I made is not very good, it is clear enough to see how mother and child do favor one another in some ways. I know now where Meredith gets the shape of her eyes and her eyebrows. Other characteristics are similar, but Meredith is definitely a mixture of Ed and Kendra. Tears of good memories and sweet moments are with me as I write. Grief and sorrow has taken so much from me. What I do have are the many memories that encompass thirty-two years of life. That is so much more than the fifty-eight days or so we went through in Birmingham. I know now that yesterday I had a flashback when Meredith picked up her mother’s picture. I know too with PTSD I will never completely escape those recalls, those memories, those moments that my mind snaps and I have little to no control over the moment. All I can do is ride out the moment, steady myself and remind myself that the moment is not real, it is not now and it will never be now. One of the symptoms I deal with a lot is my memory taking me back to very tense, highly critical moments we had with Kendra. I become numb and something happens that many will recognize if they have been with someone when that person’s life is in great danger. I don’t freeze, I don’t want to escape, I stand my ground and look for a way to fix the situation, or in broad general terms, I fight back. When I do that the energy level it takes to sustain that kind of alertness is tremendous because my emotions, my mind, my body and all the systems in my body go on high alert. I never “fixed” any of those moments. I stood sometimes watching the action, twice I either removed myself from the moment or I was removed by the nurses. Once I watched the crisis play out to the ultimate result. I was calm and not at all excited, something that is not typical of me. After the moment is over, I become nervous, sometimes sick, sometimes I panic a bit. In the moment I see everything in a series of slow events and though I do not remember what I heard very well, I remember the urgency of sounds and voices and certain conversations. I don’t recall them by choice. They are less frequent now, but they do happen now and then. I can recall that my days growing up probably prepared me for tense moments like Birmingham. They also took a lot away from a little boy and teenager and later the man I am now. How ironic that the fears of a child steeled the pain of a man. Each night I stayed in the room with Kendra was a voyage into a dark and volatile sea. Sounds that I don’t want to remember are part of those memories. The trudge through the night with techs and nurses, doctors and others coming and going hour on hour made sleep or a calm mind impossible. I left in the morning when Ed and or Shirley came in the room. My morning walk enveloped in fog as I returned to the apartment. Until the last two weeks I would sleep or rest my mind when I got back to the apartment. Those last two weeks in Birmingham, I know now that my mind and my emotions were shutting down to protect me. The body was always tired, but the real war was with the mind and the heart. Even today people sometimes ask me what they can do. Pray for my family, love my family, if you are with one of my family, listen to them. One doesn’t have to say a thing, it isn’t expected nor would one want to feel it was required. Support us. Yes it has been nine months, yes in the world that is a long time. In our world the day we lost Kendra was yesterday and it will be yesterday again when we awake to another day. Pain and sorrow ebbs and flows and while we are getting better and we again are becoming part of the world we live in, we always have to start over. January 9th never goes away. It just becomes that first step in a new day. God is good. I had the blessing of my daughter for thirty-two years. I have nothing to complain about in my own life because Kendra was not mine to keep. God lends us our children and we are to raise them the best we can and with the heart of our Lord in the middle of our life. I’m doing the best I can and right now I search my heart, I prepare my mind and offer up my hands to the good Lord. Where I go from here is acceptable. Though it may not be what I choose. Papi Post Script: Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person. Colossians 4: 5-6 While I am searching my mind and praying for direction, I still think forward, I still try to be positive to have joy in the moment as much as possible. The first picture I put on here is when Kendra was between seven and eight months old. The second picture is Meredith at nine months old.
Posted on: Fri, 29 Aug 2014 11:43:57 +0000
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