My Story, Part 2

Part 2

So somewhere between midnight and 10am we received the news more officially and had to come to grips with a new reality - one none of us wanted to accept.  The next hours were spent meeting with doctors, waiting, already feeling the exhaustion…

I remember the nurse, Mary, walking back by the room.  I don’t think she was even assigned to Derrick’s care but again my mom grabbed her.  My mom asked her if we would be able to go in and see Derrick.  She didn’t just mean if we would be allowed in the room – we all wanted to know – what did he look like?  Could we do it?  Could we see him this way?  I grieved for my mother who works as a nurse for patients who are all on ventilators.  She had always said she prays that she would never have to see someone who she loves so much on a vent…especially not one of her children.  This night she didn’t get the option.  Derrick was on a vent.  I remember the rhythmic sound of it when I entered the room, the steady, cold, surreal sound of it.  A machine was breathing for my brother.

I don't know if my mom has ever seen Mary again but the way I remember her, she was an angel for us that night.  She answered tough questions.  She gave direct answers.  And her confidence that we would be able to see Derrick lying in that hospital bed gave me confidence to enter that room.

When I think of a tragedy like this one I imagine that the body of a victim of such an accident would be bloody, bruised, broken, distorted.  While Derrick did have a large bruise on his head and around his eye the rest of his body seemed “normal.”  I almost feel like I remember one of my siblings commenting how proud he would have been to have such a shiner on his eye.  Maybe I made that up.  Derrick was lying on his back - his hands in front – very similar to the position we would see him in the coffin.  I remember thinking that the strong muscles I had commented on to him just hours earlier were now lifeless.    

There is a lot I don’t remember from this night.  It pains me.  I don’t remember when we finally were allowed in the room.  I don’t remember who went first or if we went all together.  Once we were allowed into ICU we walked a ways down the hall so I feel like the room was hear the end of the hallway or a corner room.  The walk down that hallway felt dark and cold.    

Saying goodbye to Derrick was the hardest thing.  When my Grandma Christians went on to heaven many of us had the chance to say goodbye to her in her hospital room.  I remember Derrick grabbing her hand, kissing it and softly saying “Goodbye Grandma, I love you.”  I found it significant the way he said those words.  He said goodbye with such confidence.  Words I didn’t even want to think – he said out loud.  I trust that the words he uttered he said with confidence knowing this isn’t the end.  God’s promises for us are true!  Lucky for Derrick his parting from Grandma was a much shorter time than the rest of us. 

I used the same words, the same touch of the hand as I said goodbye to Derrick.  Boy these are hard memories to revisit.  Tears stream my face.  More to come…later…

My Story Part 1

Friday ~ November 22, 2002

It seemed like a regular Friday.  I was a junior in college at GVSU.  Tom and I were engaged three weeks earlier and so wedding planning was in full force.  I didn’t have classes in the afternoon so I was at home but Tom and Heather and I were headed out to my apartment at GVSU for dinner with Afton, Stacy and Lindsey.  Shelly had stopped over with baby Lucas.  We were all sort of just hanging out, chatting about what our weekend plans would entail.  I remember teasing Derrick about all the working out he had been doing for football season and he of course flexed his muscles and told me to punch him as hard as I could in the stomach.  He was headed with his friend Jon to South Christian High School’s (SCHS) girls varsity basketball game.  It was at Caledonia high school and it was one of the first rounds of play-offs.  SCHS was quite excited that both their girl’s basketball team and boys football team had great potential for play-offs this year.  Derrick gave little Lucas a kiss and said “I love you little buddy” and he walked out the door.  I often wonder what he would say to Tiffany.    

Shelly and I were wearing the same shirt.  When we bought it we agreed not to ever wear it at the same time.  Isn’t it funny how it was so cute when we matched as little kids?  As a college student, that simply wasn’t as cool.  We laughed at how we both had it on that night but we knew we wouldn’t be seeing each other later since we were headed our separate ways.  I don’t think either of us ever wore the shirt again.

So off we went – Tom, Heather and I in Tom’s big red truck.  We headed out to GVSU for dinner.  I don’t think we had even started eating yet when I got a call from one of Derrick’s friends.  The summer of 2002 I had spent in Mexico so Derrick had used my cell phone all summer while I was gone.  I still had all of his friends’ numbers stored and they had my number.  We had Nextel Direct Connect so one of his friends bumped me and said there had been an accident.  He said Jon and Derrick were in a car accident and Derrick was being taken by aeromed downtown.  I’m quite sure that at this point I went into a stage of shock.  I told Doug this wasn’t a funny joke.  He kept telling me it wasn’t a joke – it was true.  I couldn’t believe.  I wouldn’t believe him! 

Apparently one of their other friends had been following Jon and Derrick to the game and so they were at the scene.  It was hours before the police ever made contact with our family.  I’m quite sure I was the first in my family to get the news.  I think Derrick’s friends also called my brother Tim who was at the cottage.  I knew we had to call my dad.  When I called him I could tell right away that he didn’t know anything yet so I passed the phone off to Tom and made Tom give the message.  Then Tom, Heather, and I hopped in his truck and drove downtown.  That’s the one and only time we’ve driven from GVSU in Allendale to Spectrum Downtown in less than 10 minutes. Heather grabbed my hand.  I was trembling.  I tried calling my sister on the way to the hospital.  She was with my mom.  I wanted to talk to my mom but she wouldn’t let me at that point.  She just kept saying “If aeromed was there, this is really bad.”  I know now that aeromed is used in only the most critical cases.  It’s like bring the hospital to the patient instead of bring the patient to the hospital. 

Aeromed had landed in a field near the accident sight.  Jon was driving his parents car down 100^th Street just past Hannah Lake when he lost control of the vehicle and proceeded to over correct.  The car rolled multiple times and the roof peeled off.  The vehicle stopped when it tipped in the ditch and hit a tree.  They figure that Derrick’s head took most of the impact.  Jon tried to resuscitate Derrick.  They did CPR while they waited for the medics.  Soon the streets were blocked off and lights were flashing all around.  A week or so after the accident I went with my dad to see the car.  Looking at the car, it was a miracle to think that anyone could have survived, nonetheless without hardly a scratch.  I don’t know why God chose to only take Derrick home at that time.  He must have really special plans in mind for Jon.

We entered the hospital by the emergency entrance.  Jon and his mom were already there.  My parents and siblings were either there when we arrived or almost there.  We stayed in the emergency room waiting area for a bit and then we moved up to a waiting room by ICU.  Heather had called her parents or sister to come pick her up from the hospital.  I remember Gene pacing the hallway by the elevators holding Lucas.  As news traveled the ICU waiting area began to fill up.  Aunts and Uncles and cousins came.  Friends of our family came.  And Derrick’s friends and fellow football teammates came and sat on the floor in the hallway.    Considering how many people were there, it was awful quiet.  We kept getting the message from the doctors that we had to wait for more information.  My mom, who is a Registered Nurse, kept us in tune with reality.  At one point she said if there is something they could do for him they would have had him in surgery already.  A nurse walked by a bit later.  It was someone my mom had worked with in a previous job.  “Mary” she called.  “Mary!!! What’s going on in there?”  Mary very flatly said “It’s not good.”  My mom asked for more details at which point Mary said a few things and commented on Derrick’s eyes.  Mary said “Do you know what that means?”  My mom responded plainly.  “He’s brain dead.” 

Derrick’s football team would be playing in the State Semi-finals the next day.  My dad had talked to the coach and told them they should play the game.  “Derrick would have wanted them to play.”  So many of the players headed out of the hospital and slowly it was just our family left.  I can’t say I really had any concept of time at this point but I feel like it was around 11pm.  We knew what the prognosis would be and we knew it was now just a matter of waiting before we would be allowed in to say goodbye. 

At this point word had spread by word of mouth and through the media.  The girls had won their basketball game that night and lots of kids came up to the hospital when they got the news after the game.  I can't even remember if or when I called my roommates back.  (These were the days when texting/email didn't exist on my phone).  I asked Heather to call some of our friends.  Tom's parents were out of town so it took us a bit to get a hold of them.  My friend Steph was also out of town.  She was living in New Mexico for the semester.  I kept calling and she wouldn't answer.  I couldn't call by the ICU waiting room.  We had to go down to the main floor.  I sat by the fountain in the front entrance of Spectrum.  I finally called her parents house to see if I could get another number for her.  I remember thinking I was going to wake them up.  It was getting late at this point.  I got a hold of someone else is New Mexico and found out Steph had gone to see a movie and I got the approximate time for when she would be back.  I wanted to tell her myself but I didn't know how.  I considered having Heather call her but knew I needed to do it.  I wanted so badly to tell one of her NM friends to go get her out that movie but I knew that wasn't a realistic option.  So I calmly told her friend that it was important.  That I needed to talk to her when she got back.  I don't know what I said.  I don't remember if I was sobbing.  I just remember the fountain.  I hate that fountain!


Maybe you could add your part of the story here?  Maybe we could make this blog grow?  Maybe it will help you, like it's helping me.  If you're interested post it in the comments or email it to me.  Just a thought. 

November 23, 2010

Took the day off of work today.  Sort of annoying that I had to use 2 sick days to comp for this since it extends the holidays.  You know, I really wouldn't have planned this right before the holidays...course I really wouldn't have planned this ever.  Went for the usual run this morning with Tiffany in her stroller.  It's was extremely windy but I was grateful to still be able to get out.  I was reminded that sometimes we do have to run against the wind.  It's not easy but you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I felt that.  At one point I felt like I kept moving my feet but I wasn't even going anywhere.  Sometimes life feels that way.  I had the "Beauty Will Rise" cd on my iPod this morning.  The first time I listened to the CD I wasn't really a fan.  I thought that it wasn't really my style.  But the more I have listened to it, the more the lyrics have touched me.  I am confident that beauty can rise from ashes.  I have experienced joy in the mourning and I know that God is faithful and I am learning to let Him have control. 

This afternoon Tom and I took Tiff to the gravesite.  How I wish she could meet her Uncle Derrick!  He would have loved her!  It's always so hard because walking to the gravesite also means walking by the gravesites of my dear Grandma C, Grandpa C and my Uncle Johnny.  I brought a boquet of roses.  I left some of the petals by Gram C.'s tombstone and then the other flowers by Derrick's.  I didn't realize how long it can take to pull the petals off a rose one at a time!  Learned something new today. 

I have so many questions.  I feel I know the Biblically scripted answers in my head ~ so hard to grasp in my heart.  I am thankful that year 8 is NOT like year 1 (or 2 for that matter).  God has done a work on my heart.  Grief is different now and for that I am so thankful.  I am also thankful that grief for me comes with hope.  I long the day I enter heaven.  I rejoice at the promise that there is a room there waiting for me since I have believed.   

I Thessalonians 4:13-14   "Do not grieve like those who have no hope.  For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.

Beauty Will Rise

Out of these ashes beauty will rise
And we will dance among the ruins
We will see it with our own eyes
Out of these ashes beauty will rise
For we know joy is coming in the morning
In the morning, beauty will rise

*Lyrics to "Beauty Will Rise" by Steven Curtis Chapman

Click here to watch video of "Beauty Will Rise"

 

Isaiah 61 The Year of the LORD’s Favor

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.  He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.  They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.



Seeing how the Steven Curtis and MaryBeth Chapman family have shared their faith journey through the death of their 5 year old daughter, Maria, has really inspired me.  I was fortunate to spend "A Night With the Chapmans" at a concert at Central Wesleyan.  I also read MaryBeth's book "Choosing to See" a story of choosing to see victory in the darkness.  Check out these links for more info. on their story:

stevencurtischapman.com
marybethchapman.com
showhope.org


Follow them on twitter:
@MaryBethChapman
@StevenCurtis
@ShowHopeNow

TELL YOUR STORY

In life I have learned that we all face challenges.  They come in many forms and varying intensities.  Some are challenges that push us forward; that inspire us.  Others grieve the depths of our being.  It may be grief in the form of loss, grieving something you want but don’t have, financial grief, grieving someone’s health.… I have experienced grief in many of those forms but none deeper for me personally than when my younger brother Derrick was taken to heaven at the age of 16. 

Grief is a process - a journey - one that takes time and is different for every individual; for every situation.  For me the grief process has seemingly taken on different phases.  Each phase having importance – its own place in the journey.  I’d dare say that while each journey is different and individual there are likely some similarities too in the way people grieve.  Psychologist and grief specialist’s have probably researched this and published the information in peer-reviewed journals and books.  While I have not read any of those publications, I have lived it.  My story may look very different than yours-quite frankly it’s even very different than my husband’s story, my siblings’ story and certainly very different than my parents’ story.  While the story of Derrick’s death and his football team plastered the news for weeks following the accident, my personal journal is a story that for many years I have kept private only sharing with a few of my closest friends on only a few random occasions.

This year is different.  November 23, 2010 marks 8 years that I have been on this journey.  I don’t know why after 8 years God has now called me to tell my story.  While for me it’s a part of every day of my life, it’s seems that most people would check this story off as a thing of the past.  It’s done. Get OVER IT!  I mean really – it happened 8 YEARS AGO? 

Well perhaps I’m a bad listener, or a slow learner, that it has taken 8 years for God to get through to me.  Or perhaps God has other reasons for why now is the right time to share.  To be honest, I really don’t want to share my story.  It seems much easier to grieve behind closed doors.  I don’t want the sympathy.  I don’t want people to tell me they understand.  But for some reason, I feel that God has called me to tell my story. 

This part of my journey started over two years ago when my husband Tom and I spent a weekend in Nashville with “Michael W. Smith and friends.”  We went to the Grand Ole Opry Friday night, had a beautiful Valentine’s dinner and concert Saturday night and Sunday ended with worship.  They sang a song called “Healer” and I felt as though God was telling me that part of the healing process might mean sharing my story.  I began working at Taft Elementary the year after Derrick’s accident.  Many of the people that I worked with, had become so dear to me, and they didn’t even know this part of my life.  I felt like healing might mean that I needed to be open and honest – not keeping it a secrets.  I have been wrestling with this concept since and have taken some baby steps to start sharing my story.  Somehow, though, in the past months, it has been impressed upon me in a new way.  That maybe someone else could learn from my story – maybe my story could inspire someone or maybe I simply just need to respond to God’s call and put it out there – even if no one responds.  I attended “A Night With the Chapmans” and listened as the Steven Curtis Chapman family told their story of how God is faithful and God is true – even in the dark times.  At the concert MaryBeth Chapman talked about how their family and in particular her two sons who have recently started the band “Caleb” have been given a story and they need to be stewards of the story.  They need to share their story so others can learn from their faith journey. 

About a month following this, my husband and I attended another concert.  The singer repeated over and over again how important it is to TELL YOUR STORY.  I swear he said it 100 times!  TELL YOUR STORY!  So I talked to my husband about it the next day and told him how that was really compelling and I really felt like God was speaking to me through those words.  My husband said he never heard the singer say that.  I couldn’t believe it! 

So here I am at a starting point.  I’m not really a fan of blogs.  I’m not promising I’ll keep up with the thing.  But I am trying to find a way to follow God’s calling in my life and be faithful to that.   I fear writing my story.  I wonder why anyone would want to read it – why anyone else would care.  I don’t feel like I’m a good story teller.  I consider myself to be pretty good at writing research papers and reports but seriously – those aren’t really that exciting.  I’m not funny.  I don’t use vivid language.  I usually just tell the facts.  Quite frankly, it worries me to write this without having someone edit it first.  (Yes, go ahead and laugh at me!)  I fear putting myself out there.  I fear the emotional energy it takes to keep up with something like this.  But what I fear the most is that there are parts of this story that has shaped me that I don’t remember. 

So here it is ~ a blog about my life.  Seems strange really to be posting this but I pray that as I work through what this means for me, you might be encouraged and inspired and find your own reasons to keep the faith!

Remembering

DEYOUNG - Derrick Joel DeYoung, aged 16, had a special aeromed ride to a new home - from enjoying life here to a wonderful home in heaven.  He was born February 13, 1986 and died on November 23, 2002.  He is greatly missed by parents, Pastor Maury and Cheryl DeYoung; his brouthers and sisters and their spouses, Chris and Arlene DeYoung, Gene and Michelle Kramer and his little nephew, Lucas Michael Kramer, Lisa DeYoung and her fiancee Tom DeMaagd, and Tim DeYoung.  He also leave his grandmother, Minnie DeYoung, several special uncles, aunts, cousins, and many friends.  He was preceeded in death by his grandparents, Arnold and Verbena Christians and Vern DeYoung.  Derrick was a junior at South Christian High School where he played football, baseball and basketball.  He was a member of Kelloggsville Christian Reformed Church.  Derrick enjoyed outdoor sports.  A special memorial service will be held 1:00pm Tuesday, November 26, at Kelloggsville Christian Reformed Church, 610-52nd Street SE, with Pastor Ron Fynewever and Ken Schripsema officiating.  Interment in Pine Hill Cemetery.  Visitation will be held Sunday from 6 to 9 pm., and Monday from 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 pm. at Stroo Funeral Home 1095- 68th Street SE.

Intro to this Blog

I find this to be a different sort of blog.  It's more of a story ~ one that I thought about writing a long time ago and am finally getting around to it.  It's sort of just a way of documenting my story but in a way that I can share it with others.

I don't really like how the ideas are archived as though they can only be read in order.  Nor do I like the fact that it looks like some are "old" posts and some are new.  Think of them more as chapters in a book and you are getting a sneak preview as you read and watch as I, the author, keep revising and editing them.

As a starting point the post "TELL YOUR STORY" explains how I came to this point of blogging. 

I will try to put the other parts of the story in some sort of order so that as they are developed you can read them in a sort of logical/chronological order.  The more I write, the more I want other people to tell me about their part of this story.  It grieves me that there are things I don't remember.  I know there are other things that I probably never even heard about.  If you want to add to the blog - feel free!  Leave a comment or send me an email and we can intertwine the stories.  We'll see how this goes.