The Cup with a Hidden Leak

Yesterday, I celebrated my 65th birthday.

No big parties or trips were involved.  In fact, I spent the day working on the road, away from Karen and home.  I have officially reached the age when you begin saying, “I celebrate every day that I can open my eyes in the morning!”   It is increasingly sobering to see and hear of friends and celebrities that are near my age or younger that have finished their course of life. So, I cherish each day.

On my special day yesterday, I was ‘blessed’ by the many businesses that wanted to participate in my birthday with offers of discounted buys or a free dessert or appetizer. Isn’t that so thoughtful?

And I appreciated the ‘concern’ that many insurance agencies had in seeing that my aging body would be well cared for in the twilight of my years.

Throughout the day, I enjoyed seeing the “Happy Birthday” greetings on the various forms of social media that came from new friends and old friends and those Facebook friends I have never met. 

I have enjoyed receiving the cards that were mailed (yes, some people still do that!) expressing their good wishes on my special day, though some ‘good wishes’ were rather snarky.  But that’s alright, I’m a rather snarky kind of guy.

Karen snuck a birthday card in my suitcase, expressing a happy birthday and how we will continue to grow old together.  Ben and Katie calling at different times during the day, saying “Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you.” It filled my soul with love and joy and pride.

Those of you who are grandparents will understand this the best, but the highlight of my day was when my grandkids appeared on my phone via a recorded message or Facetime!  Nothing can match the fullness of love I felt in hearing Abby say “Happy birthday, Pops. I love you” and to see Caleb flash a big smile and blow me sloppy kisses from his highchair decorated with his supper. That was quickly followed up by Tucker, Libby, and Zane singing “happy birthday” to me and for them to tell me of their day.

My cup of love was truly overflowing (as well as my eyes).

But, even in these special times of expressed love, I sensed a diminishing in my spirit. There was in the rich mixture of love a darker tinge of grief that appeared.

I live for the love of my wife, kids, grandkids, family, and friends.  Love is the very essence of life.  Yet in that essence I am often reminded of a vacuum.  Special days like birthdays and holidays seem to make that vacuum more noticeable.  My cup of love is filled to overflowing by those present in my life. Yet there always begins an abatement of love that seeks to fill the vacuum caused by the loss of Jacob.  It doesn't matter that his death was 10 years ago, the tears of love become mixed with a few tears of grief.

It’s inevitable. It’s unavoidable. It’s life. It’s death. It’s love.

10 Years Ago ... as if it were yesterday

 Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of Jacob Blackburn Edfeldt's death.  If you follow this blog you know that I tend to write a tribute or remembrance on significant days of his life; his birthday on March 11, his second heart transplant on November 15, his first transplant on December 21, and his death on June 14.  Each entry is a way of  therapy as I remember him, honor him, and keep his memory alive for friends and family and to let others know what they missed in not knowing Karen’s and my son and Ben and Katie’s brother.

I was fully prepared to compose another blog entry as this 10^th anniversary approached but when the day came the grief overwhelmed me to the point of having nothing to say. Katie and Andy, with their two precious children, came to help assuage the pain that yesterday brought and they did serve as a partial distraction to the emotional gloom of the day.  But as far as writing something meaningful and heartfelt, I did not have the mental acuity or the emotional energy to put fingers to keyboard.

But throughout the day, different people who knew Jacob  shared their words and memories and they filled my heart (and Karen’s as well) with gratitude and love.  So I am taking these words that mean so much to me and sharing them with all of you as we lost  someone and something special 10 years ago.

• Jacob Edfeldt was my freshman roommate and quickly became my brother and closest friend. We fought like cats and dogs, but at the end of the day we always found common ground in each other.  He was the first real brother I ever had, and still one of the best I could ever ask for.
• The key with him is that he never did anything for himself - it was always for the people around him - family, friends or strangers.
• 10 years ago, we lost one of the most radiant, kind souls to ever walk the Earth.
• Jacob who forever will be in our hearts as he touched us with his laughter and love.
• I remember the time when we surreptitiously switched out new mattresses for our old ones in college
• I remember playing Mario Kart in your dorm and you being incredibly good at it
• A friend to all showed us what a strong and faithful friend and follower of Christ looks like.
• In honor of your memory we named our 2nd son Raleigh Jacob. We can't wait to tell him one day about his middle name and the man that inspired it.
• My time at Shorter College irrevocably changed my life and Jacob was an absolutely huge part of it.
• Jacob had this beautiful balance of being kind, patient, gracious, and forgiving while never backing down to what he knew be true added to an incredible level of strength and determination in everything he did.
• You are one of two people who influenced me to become a nurse and you made my time at college so much happier and better.
• You surprised me constantly; i adored your laughter, your spirit, your kindness and strength, your honesty and truth, the singing!
• He is an amazing person with a booming voice, great sense of humor, and a kind and loyal heart; he was wise beyond his years and made everyone he met just a little bit better.
• Words can’t describe how much Jacob Edfeldt meant to me and still makes a huge impact on me through his love of life, humor and grumpiness, and dedication to his people.
• I miss his huge smile and laugh, deep and gruffly voice, and witty sarcasm.
• I find myself from time to time talking out loud like you are in the room listening to my problems and trying to help me through the day.
• I knew you were a special person and I know God placed you in my life for a reason and I thank him for that!
• I loved every mess we got into and every laugh we shared!
• The twinkle in his eye, the roaring laughter, the sometimes very dry humor, the sarcasm (love this trait), but the love for others was remarkable. He rarely talked about himself, although he good reason to, but always was concerned about others!
• Jacob Edfeldt you will always have a special place in my heart. I will always love you and remember you❤
• You were always willing to help others and share a God’s love with those you met! Whether it be the ninth ward in New Orleans or at Kidmo on Sunday mornings. You made every moment you were given count.
• "Because I knew you I have been changed for good."

 

Instead

Jacob,

You were born in unusual circumstances. Instead of being born in a local hospital in Houston, TX, you were born over a thousand miles away in Philadelphia, PA, making you our token “Yankee”.

Instead of being delivered by a doctor who had followed your development throughout the nine months and in whom your mother had built a strong sense of trust, we met your assigned delivery doctor minutes before the procedure that brought you into the world in a strange hospital we had never been in before.

Instead of being swaddled and given to your mother for a ‘golden hour’, after a brief introduction to your parents, you were quickly whisked away to be surrounded by machines and attentive nurses. Your mom and I could only see you and hold you for minutes at a time while medicines ‘fooled’ your body into thinking you were still in a safe, loving womb as you awaited your first open heart surgery five days later.

Instead of going home after a few days after your birth, you endured your first of many open heart surgeries and stayed in a hospital for several weeks to see if you would survive and thrive … which you did!

Instead of a hospital room that resembled a living room with a comfortable hospital bed, your mom was given  a spartan room about the size of a walk-in closet and a bathroom that was down the hall, while you were stationed in a ward wing with five other sick children in a separate hospital.

Instead of a steady stream of friends and family coming through our Houston home to welcome you and coo over you, you were cocooned in isolation, partly out of fear of infection and partly out of fear that anybody who held you would ‘break’ your fragile body.

Instead of a normal childhood immersed in sports and playing outside in the rain and mud, you took countless trips to doctors and hospitals …. Yet you did it with a smile and brought smiles to all who attended to you.

Instead of spending a ton of money to go to the prom in a fancy tux like every other of your high school friends, you spent your junior year struggling to live and then experienced a life giving heart transplant.  And because of that, you got to do something none of your high school friends would ever do – spend a day fixing a meal with Paula Deen!

Instead of a celebratory college graduation with your friends and sharing plans and fears of future careers with each other, your mother and father walked  across the stage to receive your honorary diploma presented by Shorter College posthumously.  Our tears were flowing for a different reason than the scores of parents elsewhere in that gym.

And you were cheated out of a long and happy life …. But you packed a long lifetime of happy into your 21 years of challenges.

Happy woulda been 31st birthday, Jacob!

Love you and miss you ... everyday,

 Mom & Dad