Today marks 30 days since we lost Ryan. It doesn’t seem possible that this much time
has gone by – maybe because I didn’t sleep for so much of the time. The rise and set of the sun meant nothing to
me for days. I sleep better now, except
for Fridays. I know that 3:48 am will come – that is when I received the first
phone call. Then the dreaded 7:14 pm –
that’s when it all became final.
People ask how I’m doing and I usually say that I’m doing
better – but I don’t really know. Better
than what? I was better when I had two
children. Now, I have one to touch,
smell, talk to and only memories of the other.
I don’t mean to sound bitter, I’m just being realistic. People will say
“Are things getting back to normal?”
There is no “normal” – I haven’t found my new normal yet.
Having the funeral did bring some peace. You are no longer in that “limbo” phase. It marks the point where you must pick up the
pieces of your broken heart and move forward.
I have ordered Ryan’s headstone.
This was tough. A monument is
forever and I wanted to choose one that would have pleased him. It won’t be ready for a few weeks but I think
he would like it.
Going to his grave was anguish that I cannot even put into
words. JC and I went there on the Sunday
following his funeral on Thursday and raked a little bit. Last Sunday Mom and I went, removed the faded
flowers and raked his grave. I don’t
even know how to articulate how it made me feel to rake clay mud clods and
rocks off of his grave. The pain in my
heart was so bad. Mom and I both just
cried and raked.
I have written “thank yous”, returned dishes, and placed all
the potted plants around my house. I
have re-read all the cards and letters and put them in a safe place. I have looked at the registry book to see who
all was at the funeral – I was in a state that didn’t allow me to take note of
who all was there. Forgive me, I am so
very touched for each and every one who came to pay their respects and honor
Ryan, but my mind was not focusing well that day. I spoke with a friend yesterday who has also
lost a child and she referred to it as being “in a fog.” That is exactly how it is. I remember nothing of some of the
conversations that took place in the first few days.
Today, JC, Mom and I are going back to the cemetery to plant
a weeping cherry tree that was given to me by the Junior High teachers at Gainesville. I am choosing to plant it there rather than
at my home so more people can enjoy it.
I have tried to figure out what it is that we miss the most
about a child that we have lost but I can’t say. I miss Ryan’s laugh – it was
infectious. I miss the sound of his
voice. The first 3 weeks or so I would
wake up to his voice singing. It was so
real but it was gut-wrenching. That has
stopped now. I touch his things and try
to feel his spirit. I have a little bowl
that he made me in second grade art. His
little finger prints are all over it. I
put my fingers on his finger prints and tell him that I love him.
I begged God for a sign that Ryan was in Heaven and
happy. One morning I was praying as I
left my house for school and the little foxes that used to play in my yard ran
across the road in front of me. Ryan
loved foxes – he had a fox tattoo on his arm and he bought Lily stuffed foxes
as gifts. He had seen my pictures of the
foxes and was hoping he would see them when he came for a visit. I felt better after I saw the foxes.
Last Friday something happened that brought me to my knees
sobbing hysterically. Back in November
of 2011 Ryan had found a poem called “The Boy with the Too Big Eyes.” He e-mailed it to me and then called me and
we discussed it. It was about a boy who
grew up in a little town, moved to a huge city, and then realized that his life
hadn’t worked out as he thought it would.
Ryan had been so much in the spotlight growing up and then in college but
when he got to LA he realized that he was just one fish in a great big
pond. That hurt him. On Friday, I had woken up at 3:48 and decided
that I needed to stay busy so I wouldn’t think.
I went to my computer room and pulled out a plastic bin that had science
labs in it. I thought I might take some
to school and try them with my students.
While going through the stack of science work I ran on to that poem. I guess I had printed it and placed it in the
tub 3 years ago – I honestly don’t know.
I re-read the poem, cried, and laid it on the dining table to later be put with
all the other things that are special to me.
On Friday afternoon, Misty called me.
She has been methodically going through folders and files on Ryan’s Mac
Book. She said, “Mom, I found this poem
on Ryan’s computer and it’s called “The Boy with the Too Big Eyes.” I began to cry inconsolably. Was this a message to Misty and me? I don’t know.
I want to think it was his way of letting us know that he is OK. We need to believe that our loved ones are at
peace and happy.
One of Ryan’s friends from LA had a dream recently. He said that he normally never dreams of
people, usually things – but he dreamed that he was at a party and Ryan walked
in. He said that Ryan was so happy and
he told his friend that he was in a really good place.
On Ryan’s Mac Book, Misty found a series of blogs that Ryan
had written. He writes about family and
it leaves no doubt that he loved his family very much. It was a gift to us to find and read them. He had also made an audio recording of Reid and him. Ryan was having Reid identify
pictures on flash cards. Reid’s little
toddler voice is so cute and if you listen closely you can hear Ryan chuckle in the background. This must have been important to Ryan because
he placed it in a file to keep.
I wish there was some miracle potion that would make all
this pain go away, but there isn’t. I
also know that I hurt so much because I loved him so much.
I also know that in so many ways I am lucky. I’m lucky for the 38 years that I had with
him. I have many pictures, videos, and
audio recordings that allow me to see and hear Ryan at all stages of his life. Every time I want to have a pity party
session I remind myself of Colleen Nick.
For 19 years she has suffered not knowing what happened to Morgan. I remind myself of the mothers of those young
men murdered by ISIS – what horror. I cannot imagine their pain.
People have been so generous with monetary donations. I have a good start on Ryan’s Memorial
Scholarship Fund. I will be having a
webpage created soon and will share that once it’s done. Ryan valued education and he would encourage
anyone to follow their dreams and not get discouraged. I hope that through our loss we can make
positive impacts on others. Ryan was a
truly amazing person and touched many lives.
Ryan’s best friend from Flippin couldn’t be at his funeral
but he sent this letter to be read.
I first met Ryan
across a table in Mrs. Wade’s room. We wrote journal entries abut our mornings
and mine was probably something about eating cereal and brushing my teeth. Ryan skipped the mundane and regaled us with
a tale of waking up early to climb a tree and drop a whipped cream water
balloon on his sister, Misty. I was
impressed. He seemed like the most
sophisticated person I had ever met. We
were ten years old.
My family had moved to
Flippin and I was still trying to figure out how to fit in. It was hard, since I didn’t care much about
sports or bow season. I thought I had to
pretend, until I met Ryan. Here was a
kid who didn’t fit the mold, and didn’t even try. He taught me that the best thing you can be
is yourself.
Like a lot of us who
grew up in the Ozarks, Ryan didn’t start out with many advantages. But he had a talent for turning nothing into
something. One day he was an awkward 6th
grader in an itchy band sweater tapping out “Go Big Red” on a snare and
seemingly overnight he was the most amazing drummer we had ever heard, sitting
behind a full kit making the rest of us look like a bunch of horn-tooting
amateurs. One day we were videotaping
silly infomercials in my kitchen for a project in Mrs. Melton’s class, and
seemingly overnight he was the star of the school play, with the rest of us in
the cast watching him in awe from the side of the stage.
Ryan always had an
unparalleled wit. He was never without a hilarious comeback or quip for any
situation. “I may have been born
yesterday, but I stayed up all night,” I remember him telling me. Of course, later he’d confess that many of
those zingers came directly from his mom, Shelley. He also had quite a few
sayings from his dad, Dody, but those are probably best left unrepeated.
Not all of Ryan’s
decisions worked out for the best. I recall him wearing a red plaid jacket to
prom one year which in hindsight may have not been the way to go. But his decision to invite me into his life
as a friend is one I’m very glad he made.
When there was no place for me, he made room. He did the same for all
who were privileged to know him. For
someone who didn’t always fit in, he fit perfectly into our hearts, where he
will always remain.
Christopher Martin
