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Month: March 2018

Faith

Faith

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I threw the bikes in the back of the truck today and Kim and I took Cameron to the bike shop.  I got my front flat tire fixed and we picked up some new bike helmets and Cameron and I got a couple bells for our bikes.

Then we hit the W&OD Trail for Cameron’s inaugural trip on the bike trail.  But the warm afternoon had brought out swarms of bikers, and walkers, and strollers, and runners; and the stress of teaching Cameron the proper safety and etiquette of riding on the trail was too much for Pop Pop under these conditions, so we bailed out after a short while to the High school parking lot to try out our bells.

Dinner had its challenges too.  We made homemade pizzas.  Cameron was in charge of the cheese so naturally we had extra cheese.  But in my zeal to clone the pizza that was just like the one from Freddie’s Pizzeria on Broadway in Long Branch New Jersey, I slid it off the pan too early and watched in horror as my pizza sauce and all that extra cheese crashed to the bottom of the oven.

In spite of all that we laughed, and salvaged a second attempt to make the perfect pizza…though perfect it was not.

And though I enjoyed a nice weekend with family, my heart hurt.

At church this morning I was handed a cell phone open to a facebook post that read:

It’s a pretty magical thing to find your soulmate in this world.
Like pieces to a jigsaw puzzle, our crazy curvy edges matched and we fit together like no one else could.

On March 15, 2018 my husband was tragically taken from us.

“Where there is a lot of love, there is a lot of pain” – and after ten years of knowing and loving Brandon, 3 years and 11 months of marriage, and 3 beautiful girls; our love runs deep, and has been strengthened by our faith.

I keep trying to find the words to share with you – our friends and family – but nothing feels right.

I want to thank you all for your continuous love and support and prayers over the last 3 days. The coming days are going to be excruciating, as we dig deep to find the strength we need to heal.

Please keep us in your prayers, as I now have to find the words and the answers to tell my girls that their Daddy is not coming home.

Posted morning of March 18 by Chelsea Brownfield.

Chelsea Brownfield is a member of my church family.  Chelsea’s parents, Joy and Roy,  are part of my church family too.  Chelsea grew up in church.

Chelsea relocated from Northern Virginia to south Florida.

On March 15th her husband Brandon was under that bridge that collapsed in Miami. Since that time and up until this morning, Chelsea’s family had been waiting with hope.  The hope the faith allows you to have.

And Chelsea’s church family had that hope too, and waited, and prayed.

Many in the world will tell you having a strong faith and being Christian, is not always a good thing.  Some associate you with having a mental illness; or maybe assume you are racist; or in some parts of the world are persecuted.

I don’t understand any of those things.

But I do understand what faith can do.

I saw it with my wife almost sixteen years ago.  It still carries her.

And I saw it again the last few days and particularly today in the words of this young lady.

Something has her, something is lifting her up and carrying her now.

God has her.

The coming days and months will be excruciating, and healing will never come.

But sixteen years from now; 25 years from now, her faith will still be carrying her.

And as a result the time will come when she will be able to enjoy bike rides on Sunday afternoons and not so perfect pizzas with her beautiful daughters; and someday their children.

And she will laugh.

Because she will learn that it’s okay to laugh again.

Because God wants her to laugh again.

 

A Go Fund Me account has been set up to help Chelsea and those little girls.  If you are interested in donating here is the link.

And please keep Chelsea, those little girls; and my friends Joy and Roy, and Brandon’s family  in your prayers.  As well as the others who were injured or perished in that unimaginable accident.

Joe

Joe

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Dear Joe,

Today we will all come together and celebrate your life, remember your friendship, honor your memory.

I hope we are able do that in the way you expected us to.

You know, right after we all found out you had left us, the February weather got warm, temperatures rose into the 70’s and even 80’s.  It was wonderful.  It was like you were telling us it was time to plant the tomatoes.

Then you called us all home to Jersey to share some time to remember you in a Nor’easter!

Yesterday Matt flew in from Florida to Atlantic City in 70 mile an hour winds, “roughest ride ever,” is how he described it.

Then you had me driving over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge in 60 mile an hour winds since 95 north was closed because two tractor trailers had literally blown over on the Tydings Bridge north of Baltimore.

It was kind of reminiscent of Ricky whipping us around the Shrewsbury in his little Boston Whaler… scary.

But then I hit the Delaware Memorial Bridge and it was covered with slush and I came down into New Jersey and there were cars spun out in ditches on both sides of the highway, and I said to myself “you son of a B?#@*, there is no way you are going to get me to have an accident just to come hang out with you tonight, I hope you are having fun with this, I will see you in good time.”

We did have a lot of fun though.

The time we had to have our sisters bring new clothes to school for us in the eighth grade, in order to participate in graduation because the principal didn’t like our bell bottoms and rope braided belts.

Going to church at Precious Blood and instead of going inside and taking Communion we stayed outside and took something else.

The time we hitch hiked to Asbury Park to see Grand Funk Railroad at the Convention Hall, my first concert, and the wild ride home we had.

The stretch of Steel Mill shows including the infamous Highlands Clearwater Swim Club show; the Sunshine In Black Sabbath/Cactus show that we had early show tickets to, that turned into a Steel Mill marathon when Black Sabbath kept blowing the power. I think my mother almost reported me missing that night and my sister picked us up when we finally spilled out on the street at about 2 AM.  And the final Upstage shows.

The time your sister Diane drove us into the Asbury Park riots where we were stopped by the National Guardsman in full combat gear who asked us “where the hell do you guys think you are going?” then told us to turn around and get out of out of there.

Walking barefoot to North Long Branch and walking back home from North Long Branch. Then walking to North Long Branch again, and walking back home from North Long Branch.  Over and over and over again.

Getting up at 4 AM after getting home at 3 AM to drive to Berkley Heights in your father’s pick-up truck to work at “the shop,” your family’s church furniture woodworking business.  And the time we went to install church pews at a church   in West Orange and Uncle Rudy parked the truck on the hill and the load shifted, when we opened the rear door of the box truck the pews came crashing out on to the street.  Glad that wasn’t our fault.

I could go on and on.

But I have to admit to something.  After losing Donny in 2002, I thought I was immune to all of this.  I thought that never again would I ever feel that death was something that would take me by surprise, something that would rattle me.  I thought that analytically and spiritually I had it under control, because I lived with grief every day and it would never affect me the same again.

And for almost 16 years it didn’t.

Then, I learned I was wrong.

Because, in the last two weeks I felt it again.

And I got scared.

And I started thinking I didn’t even want to come up here and go through this again.

But I knew I had to, and I wanted to, and I knew why as well.

Because I realized, though I had experienced loss, it had been almost 16 years since I lost someone I loved, a member of my “family.”

And the hurt came back.

Your sister told me you had talked about this day and how it should be.  Not religious, just a day for your friends.

So I promise not to get religious, and I think you can be pretty sure that your friends are here.

Through nor’easters or whatever; we may not be barefoot anymore, or need to hitch hike…but thanks for sharing today with us and all the other days before that we will remember.

We had some fun.