Happy Anniversary to The Man I Love

I love this man.

  Look at that face. 

Do you see the kindness there in those twinkling brown eyes?  

Can you see his great personality when you look at this warm, winning smile? 

Do you get a sense of the stability this man brings to any situation?  

Does this look like a face you can trust?

This is that same man when I first met him over 50 years ago.

He hasn't changed a bit.

Those kind brown, twinkling eyes have remained the same.

That warm, confident, reassuring smile is much the same.

He has been seasoned over the years.

That has only added to his capacity to be just the man I need in my life.

I love this guy.

I guess I've always loved him since the day I met him when I was just sixteen.
I was a shy young sophomore girl in those days.
He was a very popular senior, a leader in the school:  King of the Sock Hop, president of the junior class, a great football player, loved by students and teachers.

We are as different as from each other as we can be.

Thrown together in the great melting pot of a public high school, we came from totally different backgrounds.  He was the only and much loved son of refugee Jewish parents, who was born just a few years after they escaped from Nazi  Germany in 1939 by traveling through Russia, China, Japan, and across the Pacific Ocean, to settle in the United States.

I was the second child, and oldest daughter born into a Presbyterian family.  On my father's side, my family came to the United States from the Isle of Jersey to settle in Salem, Massachusetts in 1676.  My family fought in the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, World War I and World War II.

Jim's father was an urban German Jew who had fought for Germany during World War I.
He was just a few years younger than my paternal grandmother.
He spoke mostly German, and his English could be difficult to understand.
His father's mother died in a Nazi concentration camp.
He never learned to drive.

He practice Judaism until he died in 1966.

Jim's mother came from a very wealthy family who owned a cigar factory in Germany.
They lost everything during the war.
His mother took her nursing training in Switzerland.
She later became the first Psych Tech to be hired by the Colorado State Mental Institution.
She learned to drive.
She converted to the Mormon Church not long after arriving in the U.S,
She died in the early 70's.
Her parents, quite elderly, made the journey from Germany in 1939 with Jim's parents and and his older sister.  They did not have the papers to enter the U.S. at the time and spent a number of years in Cuba before the family was reunited not long after Jim was born and just before his grandparents died.

My father left for the war just before it ended at the age of 30.  I was born the day he was inducted as a draftee into the army.  He was gone during the first year of my life.
He was a railroad agent.
He was a born again Christian in his later years.
My mother was a stay at home mom.
She is a born again Christian.

I was raised in a home where my parents sent me to the United Presbyterian Church where they were married.  They didn't always go with us in those years.

Jim was raised going to both the synagogue with his father and to the Mormon Church with his mother.

Jim asked me to marry him three times between the time I was sixteen and twenty-one.
The last time he asked me to marry him in those early years was three days before I married my first husband.
He said I was making a terrible mistake.
I thought of Jim as my first love.
I would always love him in that way.
He had always treated me with respect,
He was always protective of me.
He loved me dearly, and I loved him too when we were in high school.
I knew he was steady, honest, full of integrity, held a college degree and would have a promising future.
I wanted someone more exciting.
The excitement wore off in that first marriage.
(That is another story.)
Let's just say that Jim was right.

When he asked me to marry him the fourth time, thirty years later, after I had been single for ten years, and he was newly divorced, I had the wisdom to say, "yes."

We were still as different from each other as we could be.
While he was not actively practicing Mormonism at the time of our marriage, he had gone to BYU, had been a bishop, had married the first time in the LDS temple, and had sent his children to BYU.

I had joined the Mormon Church when I married my first husband and had married him in the LDS temple.  We had five children together.  We had divorced after 15 years of marriage.  I had left the Mormon Church and become an active evangelical Christian.

My children are rowdy.
When they were younger, one could not walk across the room without another tackling the one walking and having a wresting match.
Mine love to argue about politics with each other.

Jim's girls are quiet and reserved.
They always have good manners.
I don't think they ever argue.

Jim never rocks the boat.
In fact, he is the one keeping the boat steady while calming all those on board.

I was born rocking the boat.

Jim is a single topic reader.
He reads only thrillers.
He loves to watch television.
He especially loves to watch anything that has a thriller slant to it.

I read all kinds of genres.
I hate to watch television.

I was raised in a family that enjoyed camping out.
I love camping out.

Jim wouldn't think of camping.
He likes to stay in expensive hotels.

Our approach to life is totally different.
I am trusting, and confident that everything will work out just fine.
Jim is filled with angst.
He is sure nothing will work out right.

I love to garden.
He wants a condo with no yard whatsoever.
I plant new and different plants.
He thinks they are weeds and sprays them with weed killer.

I love to entertain.
He would just as soon not entertain.

I love to travel.
Jim loves to stay home.
He hates to fly.

How have we ever managed to stay together this long?
How can two opposites maintain such a loving marriage?

Tomorrow, we will celebrate 20 years of marriage.
The celebration started a few months ago when he surprised me with a new diamond ring from Tiffany's.
This past weekend he took me to a fancy room for a few nights at the Brown Palace in Denver where he spoiled me rotten.
I felt very pampered and did not want to come back home.

We took in a Rockies game at Coors Stadium.
We ate wonderful meals.
We did a lot of walking around downtown Denver visiting a few of our favorite places.
We sat in our room and read.
We laughed a lot.
He held my hand just like he always has.
He smiled at me with eyes full of love and support.
We left our problems behind.
We celebrated our lives together.

We have made it because we deeply love and respect each other.
I guess we have filled in the gaps for each other.
His strengths are my weaknesses, and vice versa.
We have always supported each other and been loyal to each other.

This past weekend, we gave thanks for making it through a couple of rough years 

of loss, grief, illness, and injury.

We are together.

That is all that has ever mattered to us.

Jim & Sally
Prom 1961

Jim & Sally
Celebrating 20 years of marriage at the Brown Palace in Denver
June 2012

Epic Storm

Oh hail!

What the hail?

Holy hail!

A Car Submerged in Hail
Up to four feet of hail accumulated in this area.
Source:  KOAA News

All of the above expressions were no doubt used in Colorado Springs, Colorado, last night after a hail storm of epic proportions not often seen to this degree hit the area.  Thankfully, those of us forty miles south did not get hit by the storm.  I have seen a lot of really bad hail storms and summer rain storms in Colorado Springs during the years I lived there, but I have never seen anything quite this bad before.  The car in the photo above is submerged in a sea of hail.  Flash flooding occurred during the terrible rain storm that lasted over an hour.  When the rain mixed with the heavy hail there was an immediate freezing of the water.  Many of those stuck in their cars in this frozen river of hail when rescued by the firemen were treated for hyperthermia.  The storms occurred throughout the area, but they were most damaging in a central area of the town,

One of my earliest memories is coming home from a vacation in the mountains to a flooded out basement at my childhood home in Colorado Springs.  I remember many times that the major street right in front of our home became a virtual river that flooded up onto the front yard of our home when I was growing up,  Colorado Springs is a city of many small creeks and dry creek beds.  They seem totally harmless until a quick moving storm hits with a vengeance.  Then, these creeks become potentially deadly.  As a native of Colorado Springs, I know this about my hometown and am always cautious and try to use good judgement when these storms hit.  Burned in my mind of pathways of past flash floods.  I try to avoid these areas when these summer storms hit.

According to the mayor of Colorado Springs, of nearly four inches of rain fell in two hours in parts  Colorado Springs last evening.  He stated that this was "equivalent to a 100 year storm."  That much rain and golf ball size hail falling that long creates a very scary situation that happens quite without warning.  Along with the rain and the hail comes the wind.  This caused many downed trees.

The downed trees bring up another memory from childhood.  A huge cottonwood tree once stood in our front yard.  During one of these storms, the tree was uprooted and fell south and spanned nearly the entire street on which our house was located.  My mother has the newspaper article about this event.  The photo shows that huge tree blocking Boulder Street.  If it had fallen in the opposite direction, it would have crushed our home.

Hail occurs nearly yearly in Colorado.  Some storms are bad and do a lot of damage.  Others are not nearly as bad.  While I hate being home during a hail storm because of the sound of the hail hitting the roof as I watch the damage done to trees and flowers, I am always thankful I am not out in a car or walking during such sudden storms.

Nearly 25 years ago, I had just driven onto the grounds of the Air Force Academy during a rain storm when, after I had just entered the south gate entrance, hail hit.  It was virtually impossible to drive because I could not see where I was going and the road was quickly being submerged under a combination of hail and water.  Immediately, I pulled to the side of the road to sit out the storm.  I will never forget the terror I felt as I sat there alone in the car listening to the golf ball size hail pound my car.  It sounded as if someone was viciously throwing buckets full of golf balls at my car with great force.  I worried that the wind shield would break and that the car would suddenly be swept away.  Thankfully, the storm passed, I was not injured, and I was able to go on my way to my destination of a friend's home who lived in Air Academy officer housing.  My car was totalled.  I received a handsome check for it, and I continued to drive it for years.  I was single at the time, so the money came in very handy.  I always said I was hit with an act of God on my way to a Bible study.

Another time, just a few years later, I was headed out of Colorado Springs via Ute Pass through the mountains on my way to Utah to attend my daughter Keicha's wedding.  I had just put all new tires on that same car I was driving on the Academy.  A terrible rain and flash flood started as I made my way down Colorado towards Manitou.  At 30th and Colorado, the rain waters flooding from the mountains down Colorado, and from 30th from the Garden of the Gods area came together to form flooding that obliterated the street.  I literally could not see where the street was.  I decided to turn into a gas station to wait out the storm.  I did not want to attempt the mountain pass in the rain.  Unfortunately, I could not see where the curb was because of the rain, and I hit it with full force.  My new tires were ruined.  I had to call a friend to come and rescue me.  He and a tow truck hauled me and the car back to Sears where I again had to put on new tires to make my trip to Utah.

This same friend, picked me up one evening to take me to a play at the Pikes Peak Center in Colorado Springs when a hail and rain storm hit with a vengeance.  I had actually just started dating this gentleman and did not know him too well at the time.  As we were driving in the storm toward the arts center, Neveda Street became a river.  My friend had a hard time navigating through the rushing water and hit a curb he could not see when we were in front of Colorado College.  He pulled in a driveway, took off his coat, tie, and shirt and got out to change the tire.  He didn't want to muss up his coat and shirt before attending the play.  He was of course plummeted by the hail as he changed the tire, but luckily he was not hurt.  I sat demurely in the car and waited for him to fix the problem so we could get to our destination.  I did have an umbrella, but it was of little help to him.  We were a bit late to the play,  and he was very wet, but we enjoyed watching Baby Doe on stage despite all the mishaps along the way.

Some say they are surprised by the flooding that storms bring to Colorado Springs.  I am not surprised, I am just amazed at the damage that can happen so quickly and without warning.  Today, there is rain in the forecast.  I hope it is not heavy.  I worry about the melting of the hail, the soaked earth, and more rain because there could be more flooding.  Pueblo also must be on alert.  We are down hill from Colorado Springs.  The water from Fountain Creek that runs from CS to Pueblo will no doubt cause flooding here.  We are advised to stay away from the trails next to the creek which is only about a mile from our house.  Sometimes, after these storms it truly becomes a raging river that overflows its banks.

If you want to see more photos from this storm in Colorado Springs, go to this link:  KOAA News.

Remembering

Sunset in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Watching a brillant sun set in a sky filled with smoke from fires burning in Albuquerque, New Mexico, this past weekend brought thoughts of other sunsets I have remembered.

I remember watching the sunset just hours before my father died.  

It was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen.

As the sun settled behind his beloved view of the Monument, I could only think of the beauty that surrounded us as we said our sad good-byes.

I did not note the sunset on the night my daughter died.

I did not know that as the sun set on May 28th, 2010, 

my life would be forever changed when the sun rose on May 29, 2010.

On that day, my beloved Julie would leave this world at her own hand and pass on the next.

Thus began what would be "the dark night of the soul" for me.

One evening, as I sat writing in my journal, and reading, I had pondered the setting of sun on another day of grief.  My husband had sat nearby for days on end as I wrote, cried, and read. 

He allowed the time, and he gave me to support, to grieve the best way I knew how.

Wondering when and if this darkness would ever lift, I read these lines in A Grace Disguised, How the Soul Grows through Loss by Jerry Sittser:

...the quickest way for anyone to reach the sun and the light of day is not to run west, chasing the setting sun, but to head east, plunging into the darkness until one comes to the sunrise.

This spoke to me.

I knew it was truth.

Sittser also writes of his own experience of healing when he says,

I knew that running from the darkness would only lead to greater darkness later on.  I also knew that my soul had the capacity to grow - to absorb evil and good, to die and live again, to suffer abandonment and find God.  In choosing to face the night, I took my first steps toward the sunrise.

This past weekend, my husband and I met with my sister Suzanne and her husband John in Santa Fe, New Mexico to spend some time together for rest, relaxation, and to build relationships.

Suzanne and John were such supports to us when Julie died.

John conducted and preached her beautiful, sensitive, and healing memorial service.

All of us will always be grateful to him for that.  

It seemed only fitting that we would meet together two years later in a place that is so loved by me  and my husband, and one they had never explored before.

While we were there, I ran across some beautiful kinetic sculptures.

I had seen a similar sculpture that 

Linda at Linda Letters had placed in her garden as a memorial to her mother and uncle.

With our impending relocation, I knew I wanted to do a similar thing.  (Thank you, Linda for the idea.)

We found the perfect sculpture at Mark White Fine Art in Santa Fe.

It is called "Trancer"

It is currently being crafted for us and will be shipped to us in about a month.

Julie had a mythical perfect man.

His name is Bob.

When we see 8:08 on a digital clock, we are reminded of Julie and her Bob.

After I had made my selection with the help of the kindest man,

I asked for his name again.

"Bob," he replied.

The tears flowed.

I knew my choice was right.

Julie, I know how much you suffered in this life.

I also know that you brought great joy and happiness to so many who loved you.

There are so many who love and miss you.

You broke our hearts.

We will forever miss you,

but we also hope you are free of pain and suffering.

We will always remember our beloved Jules,

who made us smile, 

who brought us such joy.

You were like our own little sprite:

A small or elusive supernatural being; an elf or pixie.

I hope this kinetic sculpture will always remind us of all the good and lighthearted things you brought to our lives.

My beloved daughter, you have always been a blessing.

In loving memory of

Julie Ann Christiansen

April 8, 1976 - May 29, 2010

Into the freedom of wind and sunshine
We let you go
Into the dance of the stars and the planets
We let you go
Into the wind's breath and the hands of the star maker
We let you go
We love you, we miss you, we want you to be happy
Go safely, go dancing, go running home.

Ruth Burges

*Please go to my daughter Keicha's blog if you wish to see a beautiful photo tribute to Julie. 

Springtime Flurry of Activity

Living in limbo is no fun.  We have listed out house to sell so we can move to a town forty miles north of us.  It is my hometown, so in some ways, I will be going home.  We have even found the house we want to buy and have put money on it in a contingency offer.  After making the decision to move, I found it hard to approach my garden in the same way as I usually do this time of year.

Certainly, there was much spring clean-up to do in preparation to putting the house on the market, so out I went with my trimmers, my shovel, and my weed digging tools.  Once I got started digging in the dirt, I didn't really want to stop.  Suddenly, I felt so much better than I had all winter.  I tell you, pulling weeds is good for the soul.

One thing led to another.  I really did have to transplant a few things.  I just couldn't let the flower beds remain so overgrown with perennials that need to be transplanted.  Then, there were the delphiniums.  I really had planted them in the wrong spot.  They always looked lovely in the spot I had chosen for them surrounding the birdbath, but the wind catches them and whips them about so that their tall stalks end up on the ground.  They really did need to be moved to a more protected spot in the yard.

Coleus
Garden 2011

Once, the transplanting was done, I decided the beds needed some annuals.  Having some flowers in pots, and adding annuals to borders as I always do would only add to the "curb appeal" of the house.  Once I stepped into a nursery, it was all over.  I had to load up the car with plants to bring home and plant.  There is nothing more satisfying than spending a day digging in the dirt and planting annuals.  I also planted some more herbs and even a few tomato plants.

Black-eyed Susans
Garden 2011

Zinnia
Garden 2011

After all that flurry of activity of bending, digging, stretching, and lifting, I had to make a visit to the chiropractor, but my mental state is great.  My physical state is also great except for those places where I feel my age.

We have had a flurry of activity in showing our house also.  So far, there have been no offers.  How could anyone not just love this place?  I guess the right family for this house just haven't seen it yet.  I am hopeful, but I am not getting my hopes up in this economy.  This causes us to really feel like we are living in a state of being betwixt and between.

Hibiscus
Garden 2011

I could not spent this spring in limbo.  I may be selling this place.  It is up for sale, but it is still my home.  I still live here.  I love sitting and looking at my flowers.  I haven't stopped making plans for what I want to plant where.  This makes it hard to move on to a new place in many ways, but I don't know when that will happen, so while I am here, I will continue to bloom where I am planted.

Pope John Paul II
Garden 2011

Don't you just love the rose above?  It truly is a beautiful rose.  You can read more about it by clicking on the name of rose.  It was a Mother's Day Gift a few years ago from my oldest son and his family.

************

I will be taking a short break from blogging.  

I will be back to blog land sometime next week.

Enjoy your Memorial Day Weekend.

Leadville Colorado "On Top of the World"

Journal Cover
Moods & Memories
Code 2794
Current, Inc.

Colorado

I am a Colorado Girl.I was raised at the foot of the beautiful Pikes Peak.I like to think it was the first thing I saw as I left the hospital after I was born.

Mountains, I loved them all of my life.

Memories of A Colorado Mountain Girl

I recently came across a journal I had started in my thirties. I remember buying the journal when I lived in Utah.  I saw the Colorado State Flower on the cover and I had to have the journal.  I missed my home state so much at the time.  

No one knew back in the 80's that the beautiful flower, the Columbine, would someday be linked to one of the worst school tragedies in history.  For me, at that time, the Columbine symbolized a time of innocence and of beauty as I would recall the many times I saw it growing wild in the mountain during my childhood and youth.  On the inside of this particular journal, I wrote, "Memories of Leadville, and of my youth."  In my heart, I still associate Columbines with innocence, but it is now more about lost innocence.  Yet despite the grief, shock, and pain that Columbines symbolize because of that fateful day at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado on April 20, 1999, I continue to love this flower and think of it also as a symbol of not only a day of innocence, but also as a symbol of hope for all that is good in youth.

Leadville ~ The Setting for My Youth

That Means I am a true mountain girl.  Anyone who has lived two miles high deserves that distinction.  Some of the best years of my life were lived in the shadow of Mt. Massive.  Living in Leadville, Colorado is an "On Top of the World Experience."

When I was just beginning my senior year in high school, my father moved us from the flatlands of Colorado, Pueblo, Colorado, to the rarified air of Leadville, Colorado.  I was heartbroken when he did this.  Little did I know how much Leadville would figure with such prominence when I recall the happiest times of my life.  

One of the first entries in my new journal was a recollection of my time spent as a young girl in Leadville.  I wrote:

This picture brings back memories of Leadville and the many pines out on the road toward Turquoise Lake.  It must have been February and we were decorating for a school dance - "Winter Wonderland."  We went out collecting pine branches & tumble weeds - the tumble weeds to be sprayed white and decorated with tiny lights.  We must have gone after school - it was cold! The world was white and glittery, the sky was black, clear, and starry as only a Leadville night can be.  I still remember crunchy footsteps in the snow and dragging branches and tumble weeds along the snow.  It was perfectly quiet except for this sound and the laughter from the excitement of being young and gathering natural decorations for a dance.  

I remember: the cold, my feet felt like they were frozen to the ground, the peaceful beauty that surrounded us, and the freedom of youth.  Also, I remember the power and the faith that I felt at that age.  

Nothing is more beautiful than a Colorado blue spruce being covered with soft, thumb nail size snow flakes in a light snow storm in early evening.  

February, 1963, I turned 18.  I wanted to stay there forever.  The future seemed bright.  The past was happy.  I had nothing to regret or sorrow about.  The present was perfect.  I was living in a small mountain town.  In fact, I was new in town, and everyone had been so friendly.  I was popular and had many friends who were fun and intelligent.  

The entire town was ours to roam. It had a colorful past, and it fascinated me.  There were old houses that were from the silver boom days.  Some of the sidewalks were still wooden.  The hardware shop, the barbershop, the church, the school were all functioning museums.  Up on the hills were abandoned mines.  At night we would go up there and tell ghost stories about them.  They were pretty scary too.

The scenery was out of this world...

For those of you who want to see a short video about the place that I called home, the place I love so dearly, the place that hold such wonderful memories, I have included this wonderful video.  I hope you take the time to watch it.  Enjoy.

If you ever get the chance, visit this wonderful mountain town.  You will love it.  By the way, I did work for the Chamber of Commerce in Leadville one summer while I was in college.  

Happy Mother's Day to My Mother

Happy Mother's Day to my mother.

She began life as an only child born to parents who were both 40 when she was born.

She grew up in the small mountain town of Woodland Park.

Her mother, a seamstress and a milliner made her beautiful clothes such as this hat and coat all throughout her life.

Mother with her pet hen

She had many adventures with her friends.

Mother and her friends on a camping trip

 When my mother graduated form high school, her mother made this dress and hat for the occasion.

Mother said it was made of dotted swiss.

My Mother on Graduation Day

Mother's Graduation Portrait

After my parents were married,

and after my father came home from World War II,

they bought a home in Colorado Springs.

This was my childhood home.

Easter Sunday
Daddy, Mother, holding Carol
Rell & Sally

Mother taught us much about life.

She taught us how to cook, clean, and sew.

She read to us.

She taught us to see the beauty of the world around us through an artist's eye

She played dolls with us, and I even remember her playing hopscotch with us.

She went fishing with our dad.

She planted gardens.

She even could help our dad remodel houses.

She was the one who did the painting because she was very particular about how a room was painted.

(She made the dress she is wearing below, and of course she made our nightgowns also.)

Mother reading to me and my sister

 My mother is a beautiful woman.

She has never lost her sense of style.

I see in the photo below that she has earrings on that she made one year.

I can faintly see the Christmas tree that she hand painted on ceramic before firing them in her little oven.

She only got more beautiful with age.

She is an expert gardener.  These blooms are nearly bigger than she is.

Mother is an artist.

Here is only one of her wonderful paintings.

It is of the Colorado Monument which you can see from her back porch.

This was my father's favorite view.  She painted this for him.

Mother continues to cook her own meals even to this day.

Six years ago, we as a family all gathered to celebrate her 90th birthday.

Here she is surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Mother is still going strong.

In the photo below, she and I are standing in a peach orchard near her home.

This photo was taken last summer when mother was 95.

She still lives on her own and is very involved in life.

Her blood pressure, pulse rate, and cholesterol are better than mine!

She will be 96 later this month.

She is a woman of great faith.

Her trust is in the Lord.

She is an inspiration to all who know her.

In the photo below, she is reading a scripture passage to her family on the occasion of her 90th birthday.

Happy Mother's Day, Mother.  

I am so blessed to have you in my life.

May - It Isn't Always Merry

May is Suicide Prevention Month. Funny how I never knew that several years ago.  I was blissfully unaware of such a month.  Perhaps, I had my head in the sand and liked it that way.  Ignorance is bliss.  Or is it? 

For seventeen years, I had lived with the fear that my daughter Julie would take her life.  Her first attempt occurred when she was just a teenager.  I armed myself with information, or so I thought.  I tried to remain vigilant.  I tried to keep the lines of communication open.  I tried to ask the hard questions when I thought she wasn't doing well emotionally.  "Julie, are you thinking of hurting yourself?"  "Are you thinking of suicide?"  "Is there anything you need to talk about?"  "How can I help you with these feelings?"  "Do you need to go to the hospital?"  "Do you promise me you will call me if you are thinking of hurting yourself?"  She would always answer with a "no" to those questions that needed a no answer.  She promised me many times she would call if she couldn't handle life.  Many times she did call.  Many times, I got her up and out the door again.  Most times, she called her sister Amy.  She was more honest with her sisters I think.

Julie, Amy, Sally
Sally's birthday celebration in Denver
2005

After the recent tragic death of Junior Seau, his mother's lament, “Junior, why you never telling me you were going?” just breaks my heart.  I know exactly how she feels because that is how I felt.  "Julie, why didn't you call?"  Or perhaps, even worse, I ask myself, "Why didn't I call?"  I had been up until nearly 2:00 in the morning that day because I was not feeling well.  She had been on mind.  Later though, I kept asking myself why I didn't know.  I questioned why I wasn't given a sense of her distress.  I questioned how my daughter could take her life without having some sort of premonition on my part.  Why do we as mothers think we have those kinds of powers?  Why do we think we have that kind of control?

Julie's beautiful curls
Photographed by her brother Jon

I was extremely naive for seventeen years.  Even today, if you ask me what I should have done to stop her suicide, I'm not sure I would have an answer.  And yet, on the other hand, I would say that we needed more information on how to get her the appropriate, affordable medical care that she needed for her illness.  Julie had a very good job.  She made good money.  She had health insurance.  Could she afford treatment for both her bi-polar disorder and/or her addictions to alcohol?  No, she could not.  She asked me to find a program for her.  I did.  It was an outpatient program.  She wondered how she could work and do the program.  She couldn't afford not to work.  I suggested once that she come home, seek treatment, then find a new job.  That just did not seem feasible.  I suggested she take medical leave.  She didn't seem to be able to make that leap.  Would that leave have been given by her employer?  Would she have been able to keep her job?  Would the program have been successful?  After her death, I read of a program that seemed to be just what she would have needed in Denver.  It was an inpatient program.  The cost would have been at least $25,000.  The irony of it all was that Julie had $25, 000 in life insurance, but her health insurance would not cover mental health care.


As a survivor of suicide, I now feel an urgency to make sure that there is more awareness of suicide prevention.  Did you know that I am a survivor?  Did you know that those who have lost a loved one to suicide are called survivors.  We are compared to those who have survived any other horrific life changing event.  I read the words "suicide survivor" and "death camp survivor" used in comparative ways in much of the literature.  I hope other families are spared the shock and grief that my family has suffered.  For that reason, I urge all of you to urge President Obama to make mental heath parity a reality. (Please click to read the full message.)


Basically, the  Mental Health Parity and Addiction Act would ensure that large group health insurance and Medicaid plans provide coverage for mental or substance-use disorders on par with coverage offered for physical ailments. Implementation of the final rule would make Mental Health Parity a reality.


My daughter Keicha wrote an editorial for her local newspaper urging others to contact the White House about the passage of this Act.  You can read her editorial here:  Keicha's editorial.

Mason, Grandma Sally,  Aunt Julie, Amy
Julie's College Graduation
BA in English

Thoughts about the month of May conjure up so many happy occasions:  Mother's Day, graduations, spring flowers, and beautiful trees leafing out.  May is also known to be the month with the highest rates of suicide.  This shocking statistic became a reality for my family on May 29th, 2010.  One of the first things I wrote in my journal after Julie's death was, "She was more that a statistic.  She was more than her final act."  I hope that you will think of her as a beautiful, bright, vivacious young woman.  I think of her as being valiant.  She fought for so many years against demons I will never know.  She also had a very serious life threatening disease which ultimately took her life.


In her memory, I hope you will also lend your voice to fight for parity in coverage for those who suffer from mental or substance-abuse, often forms of self-medicating that take on lives of their own.  Why isn't coverage for these illnesses comparable to coverage for other illnesses and/or physical ailments? 

Julie, my mother, Alberta, Keicha
Lunch with Grandma around her 92rd birthday time

If I could speak to Junior Seau's mother, I would tell her, "There are no answers."  We will never have answers for why our children chose this route to end their pain.  I am greatly comforted by the words of Barbara Johnson who lost two sons in death,  In a GriefShare devotion, she wrote in to response the unanswered questions surrounding death by suicide:   That is when you have to claim Deuteronomy 29:29, 'The secret things belong to the Lord.' And this is a secret thing. No one will ever know the reason why this thing happened, this side of heaven. As I counsel many parents who have lost children to suicide, that is the hardest one to deal with. They want to blame themselves. I try to tell them that their child went out to meet a just and a loving God. And God only knows the answers. You can't blame yourself for what your kids do or grab onto guilt.


The time to address mental illness and depression issues is when one is alive.  Arm yourself with information.  Know where help is available.  Seek it, or urge those in need to seek it.  Join others in helping to bring parity to the help that is available for all those in need.  Do it in memory of Julie.  Do it the memory of those loved ones that your friends have lost to suicide.  Bring suicide out of the shadows.  Do not silence its devastation any longer.  Work to bring about awareness, help, and hope.  Do it to save even one life.  That will make all the difference in the world to that person's family.  

Siblings being silly
Who has the biggest nose?
Amy, Jon, Julie, Keicha, Ryan

Sister - the last time together
Keicha, Julie, Amy
April 2010