by Richard Edfeldt
A few days ago, I posted the following statement in Facebook:
A few days ago, I posted the following statement in Facebook:
I
hate that I have to gauge significant events affecting me, my family, and/or my
friends as BJD or AJD (before or after Jacob's death).
Regrettably but inevitably, that’s how I analyze when things
have happened. What brought this to mind
recently was a posting from a niece of mine who celebrated the 6th
anniversary of the ‘Gottcha Day’ of their adopted daughter, Zoey. My first reaction was, “Wow! It’s been six
years already?” Then this reaction was quickly followed by, “Was Jacob alive
when this happened?” I quickly surmised,
“Yes, he was”. Then I asked myself, “Did Jacob ever have the chance to meet
Zoey?” That answer still eludes me.
This process goes on continually – “Was Jacob alive when ….
Barack Obama was elected president?” – Yes
The Atlanta Braves got back into the baseball playoffs?” – No
When I began working for LifeWay?” – Yes
When Karen was selected Teacher of the Year at Abney
Elementary?” – Yes
When Tucker was born?” – Yes
When Libby was born?” – No
It goes on and on and on …..
It’s those last two that really do a number on me. Jacob loved kids and was extremely proud to
be an uncle.
We’ve told the story in a previous posting about how Ben and
Beth, along with infant Tucker, rushed back to be at Jacob’s bedside when he
received word of the availability of his second heart transplant. We have pictures of Tucker dressed in a
pumpkin sleeper being held securely in Uncle Jake’s arms.
Jacob had a pet name
for Tucker – Monkey. I’m not sure Ben and Beth approved of it so Uncle Jake
would whisper it in Tucker’s ears when the parents were in the area. But Uncle
Jake loved his little Monkey! Jacob went
so far as to get Tucker a Curious George stuffed animal and book.
I remember a few months before Jacob’s death, we went to
Nashville to care for Tucker while Ben and Beth were attending Beth’s brother’s
(Cooper Kandler) wedding. Jacob spent as
much time as he could babysitting Tucker throughout those few days. I got a huge smile on my face to see them
playing on the floor. But, it also gave
me a chill and tears brimmed in my eyes when I heard Jacob, on the floor with Tucker, quietly say
to him, “Will you remember me?”
“Will you remember me?”
After Jacob’s death, we kept his computer. It is one of
those desktop styles with the tower CPU. We rarely use it any more, since we
have our laptops and Ipads. We still
have the printer, too, and that’s the main use of the unit now – we wirelessly
send our printing requests to Jacob’s computer which passes on the request to
the printer.
We have finally gotten to the point where we acknowledge we
don’t need that ‘antique’ computer set up any longer so today I sat down in
front of that old computer and when I jostled the mouse, the screen saver came
alive presenting picture after picture of Jacob with college friends – some on
BCM mission trips, some at fraternity functions, or others showing him just
horsing around the Shorter campus. It flooded the room with great memories.
I said to myself that we needed to save those pictures. But
when I tried to access Jacob’s files it asked for the password. I was stymied! I
tried to venture a guess and guessed wrong. But then the computer asked if I
wanted a hint. I clicked on it and here was the hint:
MONKEY
That’s right, “Tucker” was the password! Uncle Jacob loved
his nephew and his greatest desire was to watch him grow, to play ball with
him, to take him to movies and take him to plays. He wanted to be a part of his life and he
wanted to be remembered.
Fortunately, Tucker was born BJD (Before Jacob’s Death) but
probably was too close to it so he won’t have recollections of Jacob’s physical
presence in his life. And sadly, Libby was born AJD (After Jacob’s Death).
But I pledge to you, Jacob, that Tucker and Libby, and all
future nieces and nephews of yours WILL REMEMBER who you are and that they will
know that Uncle Jake loved them to infinity and beyond!
What beautiful pictures you paint of Jacob. We so wish that we could have known him.
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