How to solace your sorrow 2025 column, 21st

At a recent funeral, the speaker said pastors say no one listens to what they say at a wedding because they are awaiting the reception. Some would rather do funerals, so I thought to myself, the deceased person really is waiting for their party in heaven.

He also said, “Give me the keys. It’s OK to go home now.” Dr. David Jeremiah has been preaching on heaven and mentioned the three-hour ticker tape parades for the moon landing astronauts in New York City and Chicago. That was quite a welcome home. So, consider the things that are above, not the things that are upon the earth. Colossians 3:2.

Grief especially makes the holidays a staid affair. Your mom and dad would be coming over for Christmas dinner if they were alive. You remember hearing him knock. The apron mom was wearing. You smell his Old Spice and her Estee Lauder. What would you talk about while eating? What would we watch or listen to afterwards? LSU for sure.
Set out something you knew they would have liked, a particular glass, for example. Maybe your wind chimes will ring out as a sign.
There is no playbook. There are retreats, books, podcasts, online workshops, support groups and columns such as this, my 21st annual.
Death can happen to someone you know at any time. It is certain. There are no retakes, make-up tests or extra credit assignments afterwards, said an article in the “Catholic Connection.” You never know when photos are all you will have left.
You may not get a warning sign. He blinked, and he was in heaven is what was said about Charlie Kirk.
In the Burger Chef murders in Indiana, a line said it is hard to have an unhealed wound and still go on. Jesus places a salve on your wounds.
Stacy Chapin, whose son was one of the Idaho four, channeled her grief into a foundation. She walked so much that her dog got tired. It felt daunting to be thankful. She had to carry on for her other kids. They don’t deserve parents who have derailed, she said at Crime Con.
Rabbi Harold Kushner felt he became a more effective pastor due to the tragic death of his son. In his famous 1981 book, “When Bad Things Happen to Good People,” he wrote that his son's life and death made him a "more sensitive person, a more effective pastor and a more sympathetic counselor."
You either present light so others are uplifted and see value, or you become darkness. Find beauty in everyday objects. After the Highland Park shooting, a mom bought her family new shoes to walk forward into a new place and put the bad behind.
A group became the calendar girls to help a friend through grief. They were each assigned the same day every month to perform a simple gesture for their widowed friend--card, call or coffee. They did it for a year. The leader included her favorite color and candy to the women in case they wanted to send a small gift, but it didn’t need to be monetary. It was for emotional support. It could be a walk or something handmade. Lunch or prayers. Or offering to pick up something for her at the store. It doesn’t always have to be words. You don’t know how people will feel or respond. But don’t do nothing.
If you are the one who is grieving, don't isolate yourself. "Take that bold step out of your door and into living." – K-Love. Don’t stifle your sorrow. Know that death is a release from suffering.

Your fingers itch to call your loved one. He goes with me wherever I go, said someone speaking of his dad. Marshall Faulk’s coach made him leave the house for his dad’s funeral. He wasn’t ready to say bye.
A group such as Red Bird can help mothers who have lost an infant or had a stillborn birth. The hardest goodbye is the one before hello, their article said.
Grief gave Flannery O’Connor insight into grace. It can be revelatory or redemptive. It can bring you together or further apart. Somehow you miraculously hold up physically.

I don’t think anybody is OK after the passing of their mom was a line in “20/20.” She signed your birth certificate. You handled her funeral plans. She chose your first outfit. You chose her last. She watched you take your first breath and you watched her last. Your birth likely gave her the best day of her life and her passing gave you your worst. I was dependent on my parents for everything. I’m with Virgil. “No Day Shall Erase You from the Memory of Time.”
Actor Guy Pearce’s dad was a chief test pilot for Australia’s government aircraft industry who crashed. His mother didn’t say, “I need you to help me.” She said, “It’s wonderful that you’re being responsible.”
I still have a relationship with my father, said Michael Gandolfini. I talk to him whenever I’m looking for guidance or going through something significant, he said. There are no goodbyes for them.
Wherever you are, you will always be in my heart is a Mahatma Gandhi quote.
St. Francis welcomed “sister death.” It is not the end of life, but merely end of life in this world and beginning of life in the next. The circle is broken now, but it will be put back together one day. Whatever one does now is preparing for then. Let thy hope of heaven master thy fear of death. William Gurnall. Instead of saying the day I die, say the day I rise.
We can participate in the healing mission by going to funerals. Share Christ’s love with the brokenhearted. They may be a puddle of mush with unrelenting tears and have an irreparable hole. Help them whether they are gloomy, rudderless or gutted.
The post-funeral flurry of activity will go away and that’s when grief will hit like a tidal wave. Ride them out with Jesus, starting in small ripples. Saint Thérèse said it best: “The world is thy ship and not thy home.” We are created for eternal union, life everlasting with God, which cannot reach its perfection until we are purified and pass from this life.

There are far better things ahead than anything we leave behind. C.S. Lewis
Faith does not take the pain away, but it does help you move through it. --Nicole Avant on the death of her mother
One man turned over written prayers at a relative’s funeral. We could have done something like that with thank you letters mom saved. Fill shoeboxes with those to bring out for Valentine’s Day.
They say when an old person dies, a library burns to the ground. Make beauty of those ashes and read a treasured book.
Grief can be immobilizing. It’s a beast in the heart that needs to be set free. You are a guardian of the memory. But don’t ruminate on the past.
A character in “Love and Saffron” said to another that it is disrespectable to be sad for President Kennedy forever.
Grief is an experience to live with, not an obstacle to overcome. Don’t seal off memories; hold them close. The deceased lives on in you. Revisit movies you liked; cook dishes you enjoyed. Think about the days you did see, not didn’t have. Sometimes I play some Eddy Arnold or Patti Page for dad and mom’s David Kerch song “If I Never Stop Loving You” and Bocelli. The music doesn’t sound the same, but a special song might make you sing instead of feeling like your heart is in your throat. I loved seeing the words Rest in melody for Roberta Flack.

Eyes are half-mast and air and sunshine don’t embrace your skin like before either.
This won’t work for everyone, but humor columnist Dave Barry’s mother at her husband’s funeral walked around the cemetery after reading gravestones and said, “So, that’s why we don’t see him around anymore.” The Paris Catacombs encourage visitors toward introspection and a meditation on death.
Be the white hat to someone’s black. This was a line at my cousin’s funeral because he was a great guy.
Be productive and turn grief into action. Squeeze every last second of life you can. Be a catalyst for changes that will save other families from similar tragedies such as stopping cruise boat deaths like Amy Bradley’s mother.
Have a you day. You will regain your bearings. One man does a pre-mortem every year on the same day.
Learn to play the guitar like your husband had always wanted you to. Another friend finished her father's painting and felt like his hand was on her hand.

One family hung more Christmas lights for their loved one's light to shine more.

A recent widow went to a tree house and felt like she could finally exhale.
A cat brought comfort to a football team at Bowling Green after a team member’s mother’s death.
A family encouraged celebrating Turtle, their dog who died. Bring in the pain. Sometimes a need is greater than your pain.
Joy and grief will eventually coexist, said a letter to the editor. Maybe mold you into a kinder, gentler, compassionate person. When we lose a loved one, we don’t lose the choice in how we respond.
Steve Guttenberg was so grateful for his dad. He held, bathed, taught him, helped him face fears, breakups and firings. The dad’s writing was beautiful like a piece of art, like a fancy sign or opening credits of a movie. Same as mine. He also was reminded to have money with him. My quarter in the glove box was a thing. Both his and mine knew when gas prices would go up. When in the hospital, the dad looked for the escape hatch. Mine, too. My father’s words had always been my beacon. Steve said. His smile was like no one else’s—same for mine--crooked from strokes.
Steve’s smile was muted when he died. The family was their trophy case. I know mine had a Toastmasters trophy, too, though. His dad was his hero, rock, wisdom, mentor, sounding board, net. Same, as I posted today. He put a note in his hands in the casket. Why didn’t I think of that? Then it became a rubbery, slushy year. Steve walked differently. His gait was missing a step. He peppered conversations with “occur” like his dad did. I use “fair.” Nothing tasted as good.
This was also in his book: Rosalynn Carter said there are four types of people on earth--you are a caregiver, will be a caregiver, were a caregiver, and shall need a caregiver.

Epitaph by Merrit Malloy
When I die
Give what’s left of me away
To children
And old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.
I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.
Look for me
In the people I’ve known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on in your eyes
And not your mind.
You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting bodies touch bodies,
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.
Love doesn’t die,
People do.
So, when all that’s left of me
Is love,
Give me away.

And at a Bible study on heaven with Jennifer Rothschild, she used an acrostic on hurting:
Hurt.
Offer that hurt to God.
Pray.
Expect.
She said death has no voice except the one we give it. Jesus is the final living word. Death is defeated.

Death Is Nothing At All by Henry Scott Holland
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

20th annual grief column

There are some conversations you never forget. A man at a garage sale was talking about his uncle who said, “I lost my wife to a better man.” That man was Jesus! His aunt had died.

While death may seem like it can destroy you, it could be stepping stone to such a revelation. Your loved one is with Jesus for a glorious reunion. YOU are not broken; your heart is.

It was the worst day ever when dad died, but the best day ever in heaven, finding Jesus. This is from “Firing Squad.” It’s only for a while we must part. Death does not break the bonds of love. What the heart once owned, it shall never lose.--Henry Ward Beecher

For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.--William Penn

God is with you during the funeral. He opens heaven and pours His blessings though it may not feel like it at the time when it seems like you have an open wound that won’t ever close. Grief evolves and changes, but can push you to be stronger, better equipped and more present as well as what to do with the remainder of your days.

Loss affects people differently. “Brain” magazine said it can make you could morph into hypervigilance about your own health.

You come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.--Anne Lamott

A segment on the “700 Club” said don’t go down the rabbit hole of what ifs and if onlys. That won’t change anything. There is nothing to be gained by looking back.

That only makes you stumble because you weren’t looking ahead.—“The House on Prytania.” You can hang on to something that happened in your past that you had no control over or you can look forward to something new that may move your forward.

David Jeremiah tells about a widow who says not to linger in sorrow after a golf cart accident killed his wife at church. This man said “to serve Him.”

I have been drawn to little Lucy Morgan's story and the freak badminton accident that caused her death. I watched her funeral. Her mother had the courage to speak. She said: We have not turned from Him. I am angry and wrestling though. I know He is going to win. God has no supervisor. We can’t have hope in a man’s world, a pastor or friends.

If grief takes its toll, God can embrace amid every loss.--Linda Grazulis

Grief is the reminder that love was present and that even if it’s no longer in its original form, that love still exists.--Michelle Maroc

We don’t get to choose many things, but we do get to choose how we live.--The Dash summation

Wonder! Remind yourself of your purpose. Do the best with what you have to attempt a fresh start.

Here’s one way to learn how. A blue Christmas service with four stations. Prayer, scripture and candles represent the different types of loss and grief. Station 1) Personal prayer or talk with the pastor. 2) Write letters to God. 3) Write memories of those you lost and a thankful list. Wrap in a box and take home. 4) Mix water, ashes and smooth stones. Rub ashes on the stones. Then wash off. To end, have prayer in the center of the room.

This could have possibly helped Queen Victoria mourn Albert. She intended to wear black the rest of her life except for some official functions. Helping jolt Victoria back to reality was her eldest son's near fatal illness in 1871 and an attempt to assassinate her a few months later. Both prompted an outpouring of public support, making the queen realize that she owed it to her loyal subjects to engage in the royal spectacle they craved.

In a journal, condense a TV show, article or quote from a friend or an incident to explain. Be grateful that your thoughts matter. Redirect, think and smile without guilt. Grief is like blank pages. This project could bring you back to life and keep you going. Write your way through things, said “Stroke” magazine. Be curious about the way you feel. Incorporate elements of beauty in flowers, candles, books and music. Someone said they sang their son into heaven.

There will be triggers, smells, sounds that bring memories back. Triggers can include the sight of the handwriting of the deceased. A door knob turning. Private memories fill the silence and can startle you. You walk the hallways of a silent house. You catch yourself calling out their name or reaching for their hand. I saw Max Lucado’s description as spring becomes winter, blue turns to gray, birds go silent, the chill of sorrow settles in.

Feelings don’t die with pets either. You might wander around with its collar, favorite toy or spot where he used to snuggle.

“I can’t listen to bagpipes anymore,” a daughter said.

“I was level 2 sad all day,” said a Minneapolis law enforcement officer after a death in the department.

“It was moving so slow, but so fast at the same time,” I heard somewhere.

In a murder situation, someone said grief took a back seat that day. “I needed to find her killer.”

I feel you a different way now, said an Israeli hostage’s mother.

Becoming a motherless child is a difficult task no matter the age.

Grief can be endured because it holds hope’s hand. We can courage up into hard things.—“Luke in the Land”

You can linger in loss or hope for new beginnings. It’s up to you.

Of course I cry for you when I am low. But, it is also in my happiest times when I pause and want to share them with you. And then, I think it was probably you who put them there.--Sara Rian

Pain in grief serves a purpose. It means something is wrong and you need to rest. Loss is a wound and wounds hurt. Adjusting doesn’t just happen. It takes attention, time, effort and devotion. Reevaluate life and what is worth striving for.--TAPS magazine

Things grieving people have done:

Plant a tree with rocks around it.

The drone act on “America’s Got Talent” was in honor of one of their daughters who died. He could let grief consume him or fuel him to do something, he said.

Create a scholarship for a student who wants to be what your spouse was.

Someone put a handkerchief in her Bible on healing passages and mailed them with a card.

One family initialed Guideposts covers. She would pick up her dad’s and feel connected, knowing his hands turned the pages.

Heart of Surfing was developed for families with autism or developmental disabilities in honor of their son who had a seizure.

Someone went back and hiked all the places he and his wife did to help heal after her death.

Hold a lantern release.

A guy restored his late grandmother's pink Mustang, changing the plate to EVAS 68 to UR1 OF1. He drives the car and betters himself--like she is with him even though he never met her.

“I got up off the couch in order that other people can keep smiling, in order that other people can be safe, because our government needs to protect us,” said someone running for representative in Massachusetts. His daughter died in a plane crash.

One man’s son was a victim of sextortion and he ran for the South Carolina legislature and won. He got Gavin’s Law passed which criminalizes digital extortion, gets them 15 years per occurrence and mandates state education on this topic. He said he could sit in a corner and be a basket case, be angry at the world or do something.

Someone who lost their son uses Japanese kintsugi that repairs broken pottery and lacquers it.

A friend saved his deceased friend's voicemails and plays them when he hears a song that reminds him of him, after reading something about friendship, hiking to the cabin they built in Alaska and before his wedding. It's been since 2012. "I carry him every day in my heart," he says. Voicemails capture playfulness, tone or retrieval of a memory.

Ben’s Bells are beautiful, ceramic wind chimes, handmade by the community. By the time one Ben’s Bell is complete, at least 10 people have been involved in its creation. Ben’s Bells are hung randomly in public spaces for people to find and take home as a reminder to practice intentional kindness.

Father Mike Schmidt said L. Frank Baum had four boys. He told them stories. His wife had a niece named Dorothy. When Dorothy died, his wife was broken. He wrote down stories he told the boys and put Dorothy in them.

A man invited a mom and two kids in to learn the piano. Friends didn’t check in and he was rattling around trying to figure out what to do with himself. Food didn’t taste as good. Music didn’t move him like used to. TV wasn’t as entertaining. When he played piano, every feeling poured out--love, grief, anger, awe, fear, calmness, disappointment and joy. God’s grace is a little like middle C—everything flows from it, the story said.

In lieu of flowers, a man donates to pay off the debt of school lunches.

Instead of allowing herself to disappear into the grief abyss, a woman created Widow 411 to offer a variety of useful resources to help make widowhood suck a little less. I've made it my mission to share the no-B.S. version of widowhood, using a candid and unflinchingly honest approach, she said. I share practical advice, hard-earned wisdom and encouraging messages of personal growth so other widows can find strength amidst their pain. You can do hard things.

When his wife had miscarried, a man recalls the women gathering around to console her and share their own stories of miscarriage and loss. The men patted him on the back and helped him stack chairs. That can mean that men oftentimes grieve alone, in silence and on a different timeline than their wives. Red Bird Ministries was born. “It’s like we’re carving the grief Mount Rushmore,” he said.

Make a grief box. You turn it upside down and do a “grief dump,” shake it and open it for a short time, taking out items and sharing. Then you put them back in the box and close the lid.

After nearly three decades, Kathy Sanders’ feelings about April 19, 1995, have become bittersweet. “I enjoy the anniversary. I love the fact that our loved ones are still being honored after all these years. You don’t want your loved ones forgotten, so it’s a good thing that they do,” she told “The Oklahoman.” She likened the pain of losing her grandsons Colton Smith, 2, and Chase Smith, 3, in the bombing to losing one’s sense of sight. “If a person loses their eyesight, do you think there’s ever a day they wake up in the morning and they don’t mourn the fact they can’t see the sun rising? I mean, they have this life that they didn’t choose, and they didn’t want, but it’s the life they have now.”

A 7-year-old opened the most recent of 14 years’ worth of Christmas gifts pre-bought by her elderly neighbor before he died of cancer. After the funeral, Ken’s family was surprised to find a sack full of 14 wrapped presents for the girl who was then only two. #BeMoreKen reveals on Twitter Cadi’s gift, encouraging others to be kind and to get to know their neighbors.

There is a Broadway show where the sisters get together to assemble a quilt for their mother—a repository of family history.

Henry Louis Gates got interested in genealogy after being petrified at seeing his grandfather in a casket. He was 9 when he drew his first family tree. His father showed him scrapbooks so he interviewed his parents. You may cry a puddle of tears, so try not to stain your album. Learn to be more like your parents.

Keifer Sutherland said it helped that his dad loved what he did and did what he loved.

People of Tournai, Belgium, bury their own dead. I buried my five children with my own hands, said one. There was no one who wept for the dead, for all awaited death.

Here’s how people describe grief. Hollow. The floor drops out. A blur. Even with a month to brace for it.—Sen. Joe Lieberman’s son

A man said was left dull, monochromatic and without hope. His first marriage ended, his father died, his best man killed himself. One of the core goals of his life is survival; the other is meaning. He found himself looking at a crabapple tree in the backyard. Every sunset, dinner and bedtime story dripped with significance.

Grief seers your mind, can create restlessness, trouble concentrating, avoiding certain places, isolating, moodiness, feeling torn up, strange, overwhelmed, disconnected, untethered, unfocused, unprepared, abandoned, shattered, shattered, abnormal, unhinged, crazy, unfathomable, ripped to pieces. There can be a sense of foreboding and losing your marbles. You ask who am I now, part of you went away, have no timeline, feel like a period in the middle of a sentence, have a surplus of agony,

Nothing feels right, but you can’t shield yourself from death. Death can wreck you, but don’t spend all your time thinking about me, someone advised their offspring. They were told to live their life to the fullest.

Grief is normal. Postposed grief is avoiding the consequences. Even after eight years, someone can’t open a box that belongs to the deceased. Others clean a closet the day after the funeral.

St. Bernard’s grief was revealed in a homily by Father Isaac Slater of Our Lady of the Genesee Abbey. St. Bernard breaks off, too grief-stricken, he says, by the recent loss of his brother, to continue. He writes of how, at first, he tried to hold back and deny his grief. He describes “keeping up a pretense,” “doing violence to himself” and “suppressing” what he felt, disguising his grief behind the vestments and ritual of the funeral ceremony. The suppressed sorrow struck deeper roots within, growing all the more bitter, because it found no outlet.

Bernard’s attempt to bury his grief is a good example of what psychologists call “emotional bypassing--” our tendency to do an end-run around difficult feelings, both our own and those of others. We need to sink down into the muck, not to wallow in it, but to own and accept every facet of ourselves in order to heal.

Avoid a friend that says he will call you back when you quit crying. Be a friend who stays for the cup of coffee.

Never anticipate a tomorrow, Dan Bongino said after his mother died. Winnie the Pooh says bye is hard, but it’s lucky to have something that makes it so.

Enrich and bless those who mourn by your actions. Comfort and solace each other. Death is one of life’s most dreaded experiences. You don’t get a do-over. Set yourself free—based on “Time for Me to Fly.”

Finish a bucket list. Mick Carney was killed by a distracted driver when he was 54. His list was written in 1978, the year his daughter was born. There were 60 tasks; five were done. Do a comedy monologue in a club and see a World Series game. One was marked failed. Pay back my dad $1,000 plus interest. Swim the width of a river. Grow a melon. Correspond with the pope. Be invited to a political convention. Talk with the president. The daughter was 25 and an aspiring writer in NYC. She thought his was an undignified way to die and became an activist for safe driving, writing articles, fundraising, giving talks and interviews. The bucket list helped her work through her pain and reconnect with her dad. She crafted a tentative timeline and put off the pricier items like the Super Bowl and going to Europe. As well as the one that scared her the most--drive a Corvette. The first couple she achieved organically. She had signed up for a marathon herself. She found out Jimmy Carter taught Sunday school and he was president when the dad wrote the list. He wanted to sing at his daughter’s wedding, but she used poetic license. They drank a Cabernet he had left a note on for her wedding day. Well, their bellies were singing. It felt like her dad was with her along the way. She felt like her relationship with him was present. She recorded some songs in a studio. She encourages everyone to live more intentionally and when you are living that way, you feel more of a sense of purpose in your life.

Cope with Hope Grief 19

 

19th Annual Grief Column   Cope with Hope

There is no playbook for grief. You may be on defense or offsides. But probably should be on the offense.

It takes a team around you, huddling. You may not win the coin toss every day.

You will have many incompletes. But you will also score. There will be quarters, timeouts and seasons.

Winter is cold and lonely with trees with no branches. A daughter goes to her deceased parents’ home, arriving to dark windows, piercing her heart and chiseling it away, into a house that smelled damp, with nothing in the oven and no hugs at the door. A reassuring presence will never greet her again. Friends could help put a ministering blanket over her.

Spring will bring a few budding trees. Plant a bulb. A man did this for his wife--100 of them. Blossoms speared each spring; they bloom and she knows his love surrounds her. Dylan Rounds’s mother has sent seeds all over to remember her murdered child by. Ethan Chapin’s memory is in tulips from Idaho,  where he was murdered.

Summer will remind those grieving of family vacations.

When the first anniversary of death approached, a lady featured in “The Sun” did not know what to do. It was the anniversary of the worst day of her life. She went to the ocean and thought about the trips she and her dad were going to take, things she wanted to tell him. A relief washed over her at sunset. She would never have to go through that first year again.

Death is a date in the calendar, but grief is the calendar, it is said. Your calendar will function properly one day. Just know that grief has different shelf lives.

There is the pain of separation, isolation and changing environments. The choice is yours. Turn inward or curl up into your pain. As Jim Lovell, commander of Apollo 13 said, “Tell me what on the ship is good.”

Joy McNair said she thinks of her astronaut dad every day, but It’s not always a sad thought. The process is absorbed differently by everyone.

You get stronger when you proactively deal with your grief, said a doctor in the midst of dealing with the pandemic.

You have to reconcile a new world, said Nancy Grace when her boyfriend was shot. You will eventually connect the dots. Death never has the final say. We’re people who believe in the Resurrection, and as awful and terrible as loss has been, there will be light coming from it. --Spoken by the presider of the funeral of Evelyn Dieckhaus Nash, a young Nashville shooting victim.

Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory, said Dr. Seuss. In “A Man Called Otto,” he just wanted people to say he pulled his weight.

Every joyful occasion had sorrow with it, said the mother of Sarah Yarbrough, who was murdered. Encased in bronze at her grave are a dog and a book. If it interests you, Turning Hearts Medallions makes it easy for you and your family to preserve the legacy of your ancestors by sharing their memories, accomplishments and photos with the world. Unique engraved QR codes provide a lasting link to their personal profile page, ensuring their memory remains accessible to future generations.

Death steals everything except our stories, said poet Jim Harrison.  Preserve your stories while the memories are vivid. Do triumphs, failures and mistakes. The oddest, funniest, most wonderful things. Putting them into words helps organize your mind. Someday, your life story is likely to be boiled down to a few lines. If you leave things to chance, your obituary is almost sure to be solemn, formulaic and full of errors—an obligatory final chapter written in haste by others. Mine has been written for 45 years, with constant updates.

Irving Berlin said the song is ended but the melody lingers on.

When you realize your father's mortality, it's a great opportunity to say the things you'd like to say to him. James Blunt wrote a song to his ill father: Sleep a lifetime. Yes, and breathe a last word. You can feel my hand on your own. I will be the last one so I'll leave a light on. Let there be no darkness in your heart. But I'm not your son, you're not my father. We're just two grown men saying goodbye. No need to forgive, no need to forget. I know your mistakes and you know mine. And while you're sleeping, I'll try to make you proud. So, daddy, won't you just close your eyes? Don't be afraid; it's my turn to chase the monsters away.

You will find yourself doing something and wishing your late loved one was by your side. Grief reveals you if you allow yourself to feel it. You will be guided by it. You will become someone it would have been impossible for you to be, and in this way, your loved one lives on in you. --John Green, “The Fault in Our Stars”

Pat Boone feels Shirley's presence in the house all the time. He gets lonely and misses her, but that's one of the blessings. He's at peace with his own mortality and looking forward to seeing her soon.

Death is a leaving and a welcoming. Grief is like a long, winding valley where any end may reveal a totally new landscape, said C.S. Lewis.

Someone lost her husband after surgery and told the doctors she said she would pray for THEM.

On his deathbed, Thomas Edison whispered, “It’s very beautiful over there.” Those were his last words. He would not fabricate anything. He would report only what he saw. Is that scientific proof enough for you that heaven exists?

A nun who lost a student put a construction-paper crown on her desk the rest of the year to remind the others she was crowned in heaven. Absent from the body is present with the Lord.

It is said the heaviest coffin is that of a child. A child said to its to mom who "lost" a child, is something lost when you know where it is? David Jeremiah’s first funeral was a crib death, still his worst in 50 years. It's like the period in the middle of a sentence, he said.

The mother of Tyre Nichols, a man shot in Memphis, said “I cannot put his name in the past tense.”

In 2 Samuel 12:23, David says on the death of his son, “Instead I will go to him. Yet truly he will not return to me.” We never lose those we give to God.

If a tiny baby could think, it would be afraid of birth. To leave the only world it has known would seem a kind of death. But immediately after birth, the child is in loving arms, showered with affection and cared for every moment. Surely, it would say it was foolish to doubt God’s plan for it.

Grievers don't know what they need

A woman was out of town and her husband and 5-month-old died in a fire. She hurried home from her parents with their other two kids. She also lost a brother in a car accident. She had been visiting her dad in the hospital after he had a major car wreck. Her dad went to her family’s funeral on a gurney and said, “This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.” The stunned attendees sat like statues, not expecting to hear that. When her brother died, she and her husband wanted their lives to be about joy, come what may. Her whole life has been a “collector of people.” Friends, young and old, near and far. Church members, family, neighbors, co-workers and college buddies. They stepped in to make a way for her to move forward. Meals, cards, donated vacation time and care for the girls. Then they built her a house!

When your loved one passes, see if you can offer someone else something--a bed hoist or gently used medical equipment.

I went to a book review on Edith Wilson. They passed around a piece of mourning jewelry that is a tribute to the deceased--possibly hair can be placed inside.

There will be awkward conversations. Some things are none of your business. If a widow keeps her first husband's last name, puts the ring on the other hand or has his photo up, that’s her prerogative.  I try to say deceased not dead in conversations and never something like bought the farm, kicked the bucket, gave up the ghost, is no more, left this world or c'est fini. There are so many descriptions. Life-altering, living in a maze, wrenching, crumbling, cratering, unmooring, withdrawn, oblivious, weighted, disoriented, gutted. It’s like having a bad dream on repeat. You may lose your happy place, fall apart, have a hole in your heart or have half a heart or lose your anchor. The eulogist at my cousin’s funeral said he lost his white hat because they were a duo.

There was a story about the recipe reaper who is going viral on TikTok for baking recipes that are on gravestones. Such a niche. Rosie Grant of California discovers recipes in a unique place: cemeteries. A cobbler recipe belonged to O'Neal Bogan "Peony" Watson, who died in 2005 and is buried at New Ebenezer Cemetery in Castor. Grant flew to New Orleans for a conference and decided to make the peach cobbler while she was in Louisiana. She was staying at Tulane University and baked in the dorm. She then took the cobbler and made the four-hour drive to Castor. Watson's peach cobbler is one of 23 of 25 gravestone recipes that she has heard of that Grant has made since starting this project. She's always been comfortable with death, having grown up with parents who gave ghost tours. She has a clam linguini that she wants on her tombstone.

A chef equated grief with a burrito. Open it up and pick it apart. Sometimes you forget they are not here and you bring home too many groceries. You'll also have to sort through belongings as well as what's left behind in your mind. 

Steve Hartman featured a man giving up half his salary for things like Starbucks, groceries and gas. He saw a woman behind him at Burger King who appeared sad. He bought her food. She had lost her husband of 41 years. She told his utility company boss. Their circle has grown. She is now doing the same type of kindnesses.

In "Our Better Angels," one man built Habitat houses in honor of his mother who was an architect.

Anderson Cooper’s father died of heart disease when he was young and a brother committed suicide. Overwhelmed by the wilderness of grief after his mother passed, he recorded voice memos of his thoughts and feelings on his phone. He realized he could deal with his own feelings of sadness in a journalistic way as a correspondent from the world of grief. Within two days of its launch, he topped Apple’s podcast chart in the United States. It features, for one, Stephen Colbert who lost his father and two brothers in a plane crash when he was 10. He believes his loss has made him more human and allowed him to love more fully. Comedian Molly Shannon said the death of her mother, baby sister and cousin in a car crash when she was 4 contributed to her development as a comic writer and actor. Cooper asked people to Instagram or voice mail him something they’d learned that helped them. He received 1,000 calls and had a week to go through them. He was able to listen to 200 to select stories for the episode he did. Cooper said “All There Is” is the most valuable thing he has ever done.

Besides this podcast, there is an app called After Death to help with grief; you can meditate or journal. There are also AI companies where a mother “attended” her own funeral. At the end, she said goodbye and everyone burst into tears. A no from me.

Luke Russert left NBC because he realized he hadn't grieved. Grief is going to get caught up to you. You can try and outrun and ignore it, he said. But what I’ve learned is that the longer you do that, the more painful it is. I think the real peace comes through acceptance. He said, “I miss my dad, I love my dad, and I wish he was here. But I know that he is here in some capacity. And I know that he’s proud of me and happy for me. I can’t change the events of the past, but I can accept them and get to a place where I’m at peace.”

I’ll end with this. In "The Story of a Mother" by Hans Christian Andersen, a mother has not slept for three days and nights watching over her sick child. When she closes her eyes for just a moment, Death comes and takes her child. The mother rushes into the street and asks a woman, who is Night, which way Death went. Night tells her to go into the forest, but first the mother must sing every lullaby that she has ever sung for her child. In the forest, a thorn bush tells her which way to continue, but only after she has warmed the bush by pressing it to her chest, causing her to bleed. The mother then reaches a lake that carries her across in exchange for her eyes, which she cries out. The now blind mother reaches the greenhouse where Death cares for the flowers and trees, each one a human life. Here the mother finds the little sick plant that is her child, recognizing it by the sound of its heartbeat. The old woman who helps care for the greenhouse tells her, in exchange for her hair, that when Death comes, she must threaten to rip up the other flowers. Death will then be afraid for he must answer to God; only God decides when the plants are pulled up and planted in the garden of Paradise, where we do not know what happens. Death gives her back her eyes and asks her to look into a well. Here she sees the futures of two children, one full of happiness and love, the other full of misery and despair. He says that one of these futures would be the future of her child, were it to live. Then the mother screams in fear, "Which is my child! Rather carry my child into God's kingdom than allow it to suffer such a life." Death says, "I do not understand. Do you want your child back or should I carry it away into the unknown?" And the mother wrings her hands, gets down on her knees, and prays to God: "Do not listen to me when I ask against your will! Do not listen to me, do not listen to me, do not listen to me!" And Death leaves, carrying her child into the unknown land.

The end of the story is glory. --EWTN      

Dear Jacob

 

I will never forget this line. Ever. Jacob Wetterling, 11, said to his mother. “Sorry I was so crabby today. Do you want to play a game?” She said she could not. Laundry, meals, dance, hockey, basketball, friends, sleepovers. The next day, he was kidnapped in St. Joseph, Minn., in front of his brother and best friend, Aaron. It was 1989. How horrible she didn’t spend some last minutes with him even though she didn’t know how long this would play out—2016.

 

I first saw this on “20/20.” The “Dear Jacob” book came out days later, so well-written. The family story is years long and this is a long read, but worth every second. No case of all I Datelines, etc., watched since 2014 has affected me more. It’s just easier to write it up chronologically.

 

The law asked the boys where the man took Jacob, and about the vehicle, headlights, his size, voice, clothing, smells, mask, gun, which hand he held it in, whether they were playing with a gun and it went off and they were afraid to say. The parents were eating with friends and Jacob asked his dad if they could bike ride to the video store. He allowed it as it was not far. The parents were asked if anyone liked him “too much?” Offered to buy him things? Had enemies? Did the father have disgruntled employees?

 

Mom Patty was born in 1949. Her father’s car was struck by a train. He slowly recovered, but had complications from Type 1 diabetes. She was diagnosed at 33. He died at 36. Their church family supported the siblings and her mother. Her mother fell in love again in about a year with a pharmacist. She got pregnant rather quickly.

 

Patty was a math major and once taught on a ship. She’d been a soccer coach, PTA president, enterainment director for an art festival, insurance processor at her husband’s chiropractic business and landlord. She had a minor in psychology and dreamed about becoming a guidance counselor.

 

After Jacob went missing, the normal daily living felt like a betrayal.

 

There were traditional flyers and buttons. “Listen” was Jacob’s favorite song. Radio stations played it at 7 a.m. Friday mornings. Singer Red Grammer visited schools in St. Joseph to perform impromptu concerts. The governor, FBI, National Guard, national media, military personnel, dogs, horseback posse, ham radio operators and small aircraft flying clubs stepped in. A $100,000 reward was posted and there was a toll-free hotline.  People would say dad Jerry was too calm, didn’t cry, didn’t look terrified or angry. There was a never-ending parade of psychics. Phone entries to their home averaged one every five minutes. One day there was one from the Oakland A’s catcher representative. He was going to wear a J on his World Series helmet. Terry Steinback was a native of Minnesota. The father of missing Kevin Collins from San Francisco had a mailing list of places where missing kids are commonly found. Truck stops, hospitals and social service agencies. He coordinated volunteers to help with mass mailings to keep Kevin in the media. Kevin was on milk cartons. They were hoping to attract people to stamp, address and stuff and sort 35,000 flyers. They had hoped for 100 and 1,000 showed up, some with their own stamps. Kevin’s foundatioln had statistics about stranger abduction, prevention advice, tips for recognizing an abducted child and information on how to help.

 

Patty found out Aaron was groped by the man. She wanted the truth, not deception. She had to survive the moment-to-moment-ness of her new reality. She would talk to Jacob to let him know how hard they were working. It calmed her down. Her letters to him started being published in the newspaper. Does the abductor buy gas around here? Live alone? Does he make smart-aleck comments at home or work?

 

Neighbors brought flowers, food, Kleenex, toilet paper and cards. They were magical when they first arrived. The mail! She tore them open for ransom notes. Some had money. They had a map of where their flyers were going in the state. Getting up was an accomplishment for Patty. Normal things were impossible. She could smell Jacob’s sweaty hair. A shower was a luxury she thought she did not deserve. But she did it because how could she expect Jacob to stay strong if she didn’t.

 

Brother Trevor was scared to go into the bedroom. How could you crime-scene-ize your child’s bedroom?

 

Husband Jerry was president of the Chamber of Commerce and the NAACP. He was an active member of the Baha’i Faith. They had marriage counseling when he was concerned about her friendship with one of his Baha’i friends and she was concerned about his tendency to constantly reach out to people he perceived to be in need. He had been raised Lutheran and she in a congregational church. They compromised and went to an Episcopal one. Both had been math teachers. Baha’i believe that God periodically sends divine messages to encorage moral and spiritual development throughout mankind. They believe Moses, Jesus and Muhammad and most recently Baha’u’llah are some of the messengers of God who reveal spiritual guidance to humanity. They strive for world peace and advocate for racial unity, gender equality, universal education and harmony of science and religion. Patty attended open Baha’i gatherings with Jerry, but every 19 days where they celebrated Feast, non Baha’i were not allowed to attend. Jerry gave up drinking because it was forbidden and they did not go to bars. Some wondered if Jerry was gay. He was analytical. He would ask her why are you asking? When do you need an answer? They reverted to their core selves during the trauma. She was a realist and loved meeting people, focusing on solid leads and facts; Jerry was the idealist, focusing on principles, prayers and spiritual energy. Introvert vs. her extrovert. When she turned to the cops, he turned to his faith.

 

They met in geometry class and he called her the brown-nose because she sat in the front and he arrived late, seemingly hung over. He played the game 500. He was one inch over six feet tall and she was five feet, one inch. He was small town and she was big city.

Jerry found a job in D.C. with the National Jogging Association that fulfilled his two-year alternative service obligation, qualifying under the category of promoting the nation’s health. They became vegetarians and started running together.

 

Her stepfather died in 1972. He was 49.

 

The FBI sent her flowers on her 40^th birthday saying their prayers are with her and her family.

 

The Minnesota North Stars wore JW on their helmet. The Vikings wore special baseball caps along the sideline that said Jacob’s “Hope and Listen.” The family went to center court at the inaugural Timberwolves game vs. Bulls. Jacob shared the same birthday as Michael Jordan. Signs of support were in yards as were white ribbons on mailboxes, lamp posts and car antennas. People kept porch lights on. City Hall had an 11-foot candle that said Jacob’s Hope on the roof. The high school planted a tree of hope. Vietnam veterans did a 65-mile walk to raise money for his fund. He had become “everybody’s child.”

 

Geraldo Rivera came and moved the couch for his interview to find popcorn, dog hair and junk. Sounds like my place. Patty didn’t like the show, but her sister said not to write him a nasty letter because she might need him one day. They interviewed Jerry’s patients, neighbors, teachers, coaches and Boy Scout leaders, but he was never in the Scouts.There was a rumor that Jerry wasn’t his real dad. Some thought his religion killed their first-born sons.

 

Tears, prayers, songs, hugs nor media hadn’t brought Jacob back in three weeks. Patty started making chocolate chip cookies and it made her feel less mean, angry, vindictive and cynical.

 

A student told Jerry several juvenile boys in Paynesville had been molested by a Duane Hart. He was a groomer with gifts, drugs and alcohol. Jacob was taken by force. By gunpoint. Hart supposedly didn’t have a car. They also learned of Jared, 13, abducted and assaulted in Cold Spring. Danny Heinrich, a Paynesville man, was a suspect in Jared’s case. They tracked down a car he owned previously and Jared ranked it as a resemblance of the car in his abduction a 9 of 10.

 

The False Hope part

One day the public address system at a shopping center announced Jacob had been found. Someone mistook “Jason” for Jacob. There was a standoff in a house where the man was talking about Jacob. There was a caller who said he was Jacob. There were claims he was on a flight to Amsterdam, a homeless shelter, convenience store in Reno, gun show in Phoenix and flea market in New Mexico. Another missing boy got to go home because someone noticed a suspicious situation and called it in. A body was found about Jacob’s age in water. Someone had broken into a crypt, stolen a recently deceased body, cut off his head, hands and feet and threw him into the river.

 

Kevin shared Steven Stayner’s story. He was 7 in California in 1972. Men were collecting donations for the church. He showed them the way. For seven years he was brainwashed into believing his parents did not want him and that he had been adopted. Another child was abducted and Steven snuck him out of the house and they hitchhiked. We should all be able to spot a child in trouble.

 

Patty learned the lures, kind of people who do this and safety tips. She lined up safety talks at schools, churches and organizations. Scaring kids does not make them safer. Helping them be confident and staying connected to their parents does. She wanted the good people to pull together because there are more of them. Stronger than one really bad man. She gathered more stories, not necessarily stats. People remember hope. 1) You are special. Jacob loves peanut butter and sneezes in the sun. Lures are not candy and money. Children need attention and love. 2. Nobody has the right to hurt you, physically or sexually. If someone does touch you, it’s not your fault. Don’t keep it a secret. Someone reported naked lady pictures of his dad in the garage and a boyfriend of a mother who threatened her with a knife. One high school girl’s father was still giving her baths.

 

The Wetterlings  went to the State Capitol to address the missing children issue. They thanked legislators and lawmakers wore Jacob’s Hope ribbons. The governor established a commission on child abduction to make recommendations to the Legislature.

 

Patty was on the governor’s task force on missing children along with human service agencies, educators, law enforcement, social service agencies, missing children organizations, criminal justice, religious communities, parents of missing children and concerned citizens. The subcommittees were non-family abduction, parental, runaways and throwaways, public education and system needs. She was chair of the first one. She said the first thing that would have helped her was a central repository of information and sex offender registration. Sharing was needed between agencies. Information was in silos. California had a registry of sex offenders since the early 1970s. Stearns County had identified more than 5,000 sexual offenders in Minnesota in the first few months of Jacob’s kidnapping. Offenders can have 100 victims.

 

The siblings when confronted that their brother was dead would say I’ve gotta go. That’s now what we believe. You don’t have all the information. The family chose to hope.

 

After a year, the investigators went from 75 to eight, four from Stearns County, two from the state’s Bureau of Criminal Apprehension office and two from the FBI. Tens of thousands of leads had been reported.

 

Patty lost it when the kids came home with new school photos. The kids’ faces no longer had sparkles of innocence. They held questioning expressions. Trevor slept on a sleeping bag on the floor of the parents’ bedroom or a fold-out bed in Carmen’s room.

 

There was a prayer service at the College of St. Benedict, tree-planting at Centennial Park, walk/run, release of homing pigeons sent from her sister Barbi in California. The note said: I am sending you a symbol of hope, freedom, flight in hopes they will take with them some of the rage and horror of the past year and show us a freedom which we await so impatiently.

 

The current governor lost and recommendations needed to go to the new one. They brought along a former runaway, a father whose children had been kidnapped by his estranged wife and Patty with the perfect stranger abduction. The new governor put his feet on his desk and said: Am I going to have to listen to more of these? Patty wanted a violent crime center, a time limit of four hours for law enforcement to submit reports to the center, training about the use of it and updated sentencing guidelines. A sex offender registry? You can’t do that, the new governor said. “These people have rights.” That was Gov. Arne Carlson. Patty’s sheriff rose to his feet and she had to settle him down. She studied other state’s laws. The Minnesota Sex Offender Registration Act finally passed the Legislature, the 15^th state to do so. Dave Durenberger asked for help at the federal level. Offenders were choosing where to live based on states that didn’t have mandatory registration. President Bill Clinton signed the Jacob Wetterling Act. Patty’s presence personified the situation and brought it home.

 

She starting finding Jerry hard to talk to and he preferred to avoid deep discussions. Her world was dominated by pedophiles, sex offenders and victims of sexual assault. The Wetterlings were interrogated, polygraphed, pitted against each other and made targets of lies and scandals. They were even extorted. A prisoner made threats that they arranged the abduction in order to get money. 

 

She received no money for speaking engagements and wouldn’t take it from the foundation because she was afraid people might accuse her of making money off of Jacob’s disappearance. Parents of the missing lose their jobs because of absenteeism and distractions. Some hire private investigators. Jerry had withdrawn $30,000 for cell phone bills, pizza for volunteers, etc. When the tip line was about to be taken down, the foundation paid a portion of the bill. They had three full-time staffers. The family wrestled with raising children, running his business, serving on the board, educating other children, supporting other parents, advocating for laws and speaking at events. Gone were the mall days or quick bites at restaurants without interruption, though hugs, encouragement and well-wishes were appreciated.

 

The foundation expanded to missing adults, parental abductions and international abductions. They needed more clarity and vision. She took a hiatus and the executive director tended to business. The executive committee, which she was not on, dismissed the staff and director, a dear friend.  Patty didn’t want the public to think funds were mismanaged or they were closing. Several board members resigned and volunteers were upset. They began charging for speaking. Patty joined the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children board and was on the program committee. At her first White House briefing, she heard Janet Reno, attorney general, say the three elements of the crime bill were punishment, policing and prevention. Chief of Staff Mack McLarty of Arkansas filled in for Al Gore. (As Arkla CEO, he used to stay at the Remington Suite Hotel when I managed prior to the White House job). The Jacob Wetterling Crimes Against Children and Sexually Violent Offender Registration Act signing was in the Rose Garden. It was awful yet it was an honor. Patty had learned so much that she had a three-ring binder she constantly carried while traveling.

 

Jacob’s Hope T-shirts were sold at his school on the fifth anniversary. There was a time capsule that he could open when he returned. Letters, poems, a wish, autographed football, Class of 1996 keychain and hockey puck. It was handmade by a 34-year-old industrial arts teacher who had passed away earlier in the year.

 

When the FBI agent went to make a donation to the foundation, he had a photo of Jacob in there along with his own family. The FBI field office had no no family photos or crayon pictures on the cube walls. In more talks, Bahai’i came up again. They don’t have clergy. When there are enough members in a community, they elect a nine-member Local Spiritual Assembly which guides the community and manages administrative duties. The supreme governing body is located in Israel. The faith started in Iran. Bahai’s believe God has sent messengers at different times to deliver his messages to the world. One theory was that Jacob was kidnapped by them and taken out of the country to be groomed as a leader. They thought he knew the kidnapper. There was only one set of footprints on the road and they were Jacob’s. That would mean the person who took him was a signficant distance away, not dragging or carrying him. It appears Jacob went willingly. Strangers had gone into the Wetterling home over the years.

 

The sheriff told Patty early on that she could not tire.

 

Daughter Amy went to college where no one knew her and she could blend in. Patty finally cleaned Jacob’s room and saw his name in cursive on the closet wall. She placed her hand on his signature and could almost feel his pulse. Aaron stayed close to the family.

 

Patty testifed with John Walsh in a House committee. They were urging the FBI to provide immediate assistant to police departments in child abductions.  Walsh pushed for a capital crime even in states without the death penalty. Patty did not support the death penalty. Walsh used words like predator and monster, but Patty said they are typically living in the neighborhood and attend community churches. They could be a coach, teacher, brother or uncle. Some Minnesota lawmakers argued that public notification was an infringement on a person’s right to privacy. She also became acquainted with Marc Klaas.

 

Patty was a torchbearer in the 1996 Olympics, running one kilometer across an 84-day, 42-state journey to Atlanta. The flame never goes out and it helped her feel Jacob’s spirit. The three and a half pound torch had power. She felt connected to it. Like she was carrying the message of child safety, to protect it from the elements and transfer it to the next amazing human being to carry, preserve and pass on. She gave a commencement speech. Five years earlier, two 14 year olds in Jacob’s class had been struck by a car and killed. Another was in a fatal accident the same year. A police officer had been killed in the line of duty. Two months before, another student was in a car accident and the parents were going to speak as well. The principal said the school felt like a morgue at times. No smiles and no chatter about future plans. They had braved it together. Each had a white ribbon pinned to his gown in honor of Jacob. The choir sang Jacob’s Hope.  Jon’s parents said he would want all of them to succeed and go after their dreams. Patty said she watched them grow up because they couldn’t watch Jacob. You deserve to be proud, she told them. The mascot was an eagle. She thought of Jacob if she saw one. She wondered what position he would have played on the football field. What girl he would have asked to prom. What college he would have selected. They went through one agonizing milestone to the next.

 

In 1989, there were 100 organizations across the country that advocated for missing children. Most didn’t get along with each other. There was competition over funding.

 

Trevor was homecoming king, played wide receiver and went to St. Cloud State University.

 

By the end of 1998, Patty spent 105 days traveling, making presentations in 16 states and two countries. She was hired as a speaker for Fox Valley Technical College which received grants from the National Criminal Justice Training Center. She and another missing mother agreed a handbook was needed for when a child goes missing—with resources and heartfelt advice. She also began, through a grant, parent to parent mentoring. There was a toll-free number.

 

She wrote another letter published on the ninth anniversary. Jacob had his grandpa’s middle name. You were once an 11-year-old boy. Someone’s son and brother. Do you also love peanut butter? Did you sneeze when you looked at the sun?  Did you play jokes on April Fool’s?  Please talk to me. She was so hopeful the perpetrator would call that she kept a notebook by the phone with a list of questions. There was a flurry of new tips, nothing from him.

 

Carmen went to the University of Wisconsin. Amy got her criminal justice degree. She met her husband Chris at a fundraiser for Jacob held near his birthday. The Vikings head coach had the same birthday and graciously served as honorary chair for several years. When they married, they had a kind note for Jacob in the wedding program. One of Jacob’s friends designed her own major, Child Abduction Prevention, at St. Olaf.

 

Patty’s mom, who seldom took center stage, stepped up to home plate at the HHH Metrodome and urged 15,000 Twins fans to talk to kids about safety. Patty unveiled the AMBER alert in Minnesota. The system would be tested twice a year, once on the day of his abduction. The other on National Missing Children’s Day on May 25.

 

There had been 30,000 leads in 12.5 years. The Boston Globe’s investigation of clergy sexual abuse came out and people wondered if a monk or priest did something to Jacob. Patty thought it far-fetched because why go to a dead-end road when they had access at church and schools and camps. There were two clergy who had visited their home to offer support. Their names were on the list. One had hosted the first community prayer service. The other invited kids to his house for movie night.

 

Barbi struggled with alcoholism. Every year she sent a dozen roses on Jacob’s birthday—11 in a bright color and one white for hope. She took care of Patty for six weeks. Wear this. Comb your hair. Talk to this person. Eat. When their mother passed, Patty begged for her to let her know if she saw Jacob in heaven. She would miss her mother’s calm, kind and gentle spirit.

 

The 13^th anniversary had another article. Patty tried to find Jacob, protected kids, educated parents, changed laws and supported other families. She noticed a kid in a car while the parent was in a liquor store. They would never leave a $50 bill on the seat with the windows down and car running. She left one of Jacob’s missing flyers on his seat. She was aware of another story where a man knocked on a car window and told them their parents wanted them to come inside. He took one of them for 10 months. At one of the organizations, the office administrator’s 10-year-old son had been abducted by the ex-husband. He was recovered after eight months.

 

At one organization, bills were not being paid and Patty was blamed. She was fired by close colleagues even though she founded it. She was sabotaged.

 

They went through three sheriffs during the ordeal and learned factors you should know. Keep the story alive in the media. People need to come forward who witness a situation that doesn’t feel right. Make sure police respond quickly to tips.

 

In another letter, Jacob’s kindergarten teacher had said 28 students called and wanted to say thank you to Patty for keeping them safe. The teacher said she was just doing her little part and thanked Patty for doing the big part.

 

Patty was approached to be a candidate for Congress because she had run two federal programs, applied for federal grants and helped change federal law. Some felt she would be too nice. She sought out people who were experts for counsel and advice. She had 91 percent name recognition in her district.  She got to speak at the Democratic National Convention in 2004. Jerry could not campaign because of his religious beliefs. She considered herself a centrist. She got criticized for not having a gun permit or a fishing license. But she did and someone even called a resort they went to frequently to ask. How would this make her a better Congresswoman? She did not believe the federal government should decide abortion. She didn’t think there was a blanket decision to cover personal situations and was advised to avoid the topic.  Staff forgot to block off her calendar on the week of her daughter’s wedding, which I find insane, so she had to cancel a debate. (An eagle circled over Trevor’s wedding). The opponent would not accept five alternative dates and criticized her for canceling. She was glad to see her daughter get married; they had experienced fear and sadness, hope and heartbreak, unwanted publicity, horrifying leads and people they knew being investigated. Patty cast her vote on her 65^th birthday. She recalled being the scared kindergartener when she lost her dad. The happy second grader when her mom remarried. A proud big sister. The soda jerk, cheerleader, college student, teacher, wife, mom and victim of a terrible crime. In five months her team set up an office with 17 staffers and hundreds of volunteers. They raised $2 million and the race brought the President there. She didn’t promise more than she could deliver, did not lie and hadn’t sacrificed integrity. She focused on taxes, small business, labor unions, farming, jobs, education, the economy, government spending and all inner workings of a campaign, like cramming for finals. She lost, 46 percent. It was the most expensive congressional race in Minnesota history. Her opponent was going to run for Senate. She felt she would beat him in a statewide race because Minnesotans tend to be more liberal than those in her Sixth District. She competed against Amy Klobuchar and Ford Bell, the president of the Minneapolis Heart Institute Foundation. She ended up withdrawing; she liked Klobuchar. She was encouraged to run for House again. One candidate was Michele Bachmann. Rep. Mark Foley, an advocate for child safety, resigned after allegations arose that he sent sexually explicit emails and instant messages to pages. She had worked with him on  preventing predatory behavior. Other leaders knew he did this for a year! These kids as pages were vulnerable and far from home. Patty gave the Democratic response to George W. Bush’s weekly radio address after the scandal. She was accused by her opponent as rushing to judgment and exploiting the situation for political gain. This was her life’s work! Bachman won this time.

 

Then Patty got a call that the director of the sexual violence prevention program at the Department of Health was leaving. The office was in the Golden Rule Building. The number of children and adults sexually assaulted in 2005 in the state could fill the Metrodome—60,000 in one year. She produced a five-year plan to protect them. The daily commute was 180 miles.

 

Twenty years came and went. Two key people gave the Wetterling’s strength. Vern Iverson who coordinated the media response and Grammer’s song called “Listen.” They planned a concert with proceeds going to the Boys and Girls Club and the Jacob Wetterling Resource Center. There came a regional outage and power came back on 20 minutes before the show was supposed to start. There could be no light or sound checks. During the concert, Patty read from a book she had written for her three grandchildren, one named Jake for Jacob. Family photos flashed. When you see a rainbow, when you blow out a candle and make a wish, or tell a funny joke…When you hug your best friend, or your little sister, and when you to go to sleep at night…You can know that Jacob is smiling inside your heart. We call that special place in your heart Jacob’s Hope. Media did the annual shaking of the tree, as she called it. The Minneapolis Star-Tribune featured Aaron in a cover story, “Gone 20 Years But With Him Every Day.” The what ifs included what if the moon had been full and they could have spotted the man earlier, what if the man took Aaron instead of Jacob? Barbi had told Patty she believed Jacob’s body was buried.

 

Patty finally spoke with a neighbor. He had seen a car that night. He thinks the person did a test run.

 

Patty had a dream that she was pushing Jacob in a wheelchair and he asked here when she got so old. She became a grandma of twins. Double everything with half the sleep, she said.

 

She wanted her speeches to leave people empowered and committed to a safer world. A second grader once wrote: Jacob will be fine, If he isn’t all right, you will see him in heaven. Or my dog died. Jacob can play with him. She met someone named Joy, a blogger, after a speech. She had been writing about Jacob. There was talk of a work van with no windows. Patty thinks of him every time she sees one.  Joy had even looked up the weather report and found the moon hadn’t risen until midnight on that date, so 9 p.m. would be totally dark.

 

Patty got an envelope about someone assuming Jacob’s identity. The dude got driver’s licenses in three states, rented a P.O. Box and car dealers let him go for test drives without a deposit. He drove to Mexico to sell them. He was caught when he applied for a passport. He needed a birth certificate and pretended to be Jacob’s father and Jacob. The clerk knew his missing story, however. Patty could not believe someone used this for personal gain and called it cruelty among the lowest she’d seen. Joy had known about it from a San Francisco media story. The family didn’t.

Joy believed Jared and Jacob’s abductor were the same person--voice, authoritative manner, threat of a gun and similar commands. “Run and don’t look back, or I’ll shoot.” Among the other boys, one said the mask was like indoor-outdoor candy-striped carpeting. He was about 5’ 11” and not chunky. A baseball cap had been left at one scene and was misplaced. It was later found and sent to the DNA lab. Clothing of Jacob’s was sent as DNA technology improved—a snowmobile suit, sweatshirt and T-shirt were tested periodically.

 

The cities of Paynesville, Cold Spring and St. Joseph were in the same county.

 

Patty had been on The 700 Club, Joan Rivers, Phil Donahue, Maury Povich, John Walsh’s The Hunt and Nancy Grace. In Reader’s Digest, People, Good Housekeeping and O. They reached out to truckers’ magazines and flea market publications. Joy’s blog was a new thing. They learned stories of Duane Hart about drug running, arson and bar fights. He had a makeshift camp. He lured boys to swim and fish. Then he molested them. He bribed them with drugs and alcohol. He had a car, Joy said. He was arrested.

 

A huge missing persons summit included federal law officials, forensic scientists, medical and mental health professionals, survivors and victim advocates. Their own sheriff did not attend after many invitations.  The summit was inspired by the recoveries of Elizabeth Smart, Jaycee Dugard and Gina DeJesus. Missing children are traumatized, terrified and constantly told that they or their loved ones would be killed if they tried to escape. Joy’s blog visits grew from 100 a day to 30,000. A recurring theme was look into Delbert and Tim Huber. Delbert killed a teacher. Son Tim helped him cover it up. Delbert resembled a sketch. Delbert died in prison in 2014. If he had knowledge, it was taken to the grave.  There had been a body found in the Mississippi, bones in the woods in Northern Minnesota, a Milwaukee barber who had kept haunting journals and one of Jacob’s missing posters, he was “seen” in a mental hospital in London and in Amsterdam.  Joy made a spreadsheet of tips, prioritized from most important to least and sorted them by suspect. Then the blog generated 69 tips.

 

ANCMEC found 56 children who were recovered after more than 20 years.

 

The saddest I got was when Patty said they had an age-progressed photo of Jacob at 35. Along with the fifth-grade one. I actually gasped.

 

She put together a list of 25 ways to build hope in children:

Help me build a fort, stop at my lemonade stand, read to me, listen without distractions, join me in finding animal shapes in clouds, model kindness, create art, teach me empathy, put an encouraging note in my lunch, do something with me to make our block more beautiful, sing to me, remind me to share, be a voice for youth, celebrate differences, dance with me, teach me something new, help me create snow angels, tell me campfire stories over S’mores, take technology breaks, ask me my opinion, create a scavenger hunt, volunteer somewhere together, put together a neighborhood event, take me on a bike ride, talk to me about online and body safety.

 

The tree planted at Jacob’s school was now 30 feet tall, once the height of a six-grader. The Law Enforcement Center had a Jacob Wetterling Conference Center. People were still asked to call in tips. From 2009 to 2013, more than 160 kids who were missing between 11 and 20 years were found. Forty-two who had been missing more than 20 years were found. Patty clipped articles, saved and studied them. On the 25^th anniversary, friends came by with a white rose and baby’s breath from former neighbors, as they had done all prior years. A Lakota friend did a smudging and prayer. Patty lit candles and played songs that reminded her of her son. Listen, Jacob’s Hope and Somewhere Out There. Joy and Jared helped her feel stronger. The four were a force—energized, empowered, determined, undeterred and undaunted.

 

Patty retired in 2015. Her life had been all about leads, sightings, media, speaking, travel, prioritizing, response modes, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  At 65, she became a landlord.

 

Finally Danny Heinrich became a match to the DNA. There was a sword collection photo from his home. In a home video, there was a handgun in a safe, black like the one Trevor and Aaron described. It was not in the safe now. There were 19 binders of child porn. A sneaker transposed on the mold of his footprint. The tire matched. The arrest charge would be on federal charges of child porn. It was surreal and terrifying. It wasn’t a priest, monk, railroad guy, junkyard guy or  campground guy. It wasn’t Duane Hart. The Wetterlings had a plan to go to Colorado for Halloween to see grandchilden and still did. The principal at Amy’s school allowed her off and Carmen’s supervisor did the same.  Before Jacob was kidnapped, parents let their kids trick-or-treat. That went away in 1989. It was replaced by parties or the mall. Reporters who weren’t even born yet lined the Wetterling drive when they returned. An article came out with victims, one anonymous, these men being silenced and voiceless for almost 30 years. Joy wanted a healing gathering, but it was called a community information session. Media were banned from the questions and answers session. They planned it for Nov. 30 and the roads were impassable. It was postponed until Dec. 6 and held anyway after much fog and freezing rain. The Strib reporters asked about vehicles, party spots and anything about Heinrich.

 

The trial was like being dropped onto another planet.

 

Jared did not have money for an attorney, but a reporter tried to help. A civil case could provide the opportunity to subpoena people and have them testify under oath. Jared had a divorce, lost opportunities for promotion and had recent unemployment due to anxiety and stress. He said there was not a day that went by where he didn’t think about that guy who harmed him and he wanted him to pay for taking away his childhood.

 

They found Jacob’s jacket on a farm where a couple was raising five children and leading innocent lives. Porch lights were on for Jacob. Light posts had white ribbons. Newspapers were sold out.  Our Hearts Are Broke, read the headline.  The first four pages had the discovery of his remains, the timeline and the reaction of local residents. Their grandchild is 11, the same age as the missing Jacob. This also saddened me.

 

Patty wanted to know what brought Heinrich to St. Joseph, how did he come across the boys, why them, why that road, what happened, why didn’t he let Jacob go? The sheriff said he was just out searching for a young boy to molest, drove until he had an opportunity, got out and waited. What did I do wrong? Jacob asked. He told him to take his clothes off, then he molested him. Jacob was cold and Heinrich told him he could get dressed. Can I go home now? He said he could not. He saw a police car go by with lights on and told Jacob he had to pee and made him turn around. He raised a gun to his head. It clicked but did not go off. Again, but Jacob did not fall. Next time he fell.  He walked to a gravel pit to bury him. He brought a shovel, but decided it would take too long. He walked by a construction company and saw a Bobcat. He knew where they hid the key. He dug the hole and put Jacob in, threw his jacket on top of him and covered him up. About a year later, he went back and caught a glimpse of something red. He had been pulled up to the surface by growing brush. He went back that night and dug him up. Then he put the remains in a garbage bag, carried him across the highway to that rural farm property and buried him under a grove of trees. Patty’s firstborn son who she hugged through a million owies, illnesses, cuddles and rocking, wasn’t there she he needed her. When asked what people could do, Patty said say a prayer, light a candle, be with friends, play with their children, giggle and hold hands. Eat ice cream, suggested another. Create joy. Help your neighbor. She wondered what Jacob would want her to wear for the memorial. She pulled out black and then turquoise. Blue was Jacob’s favorite color. 

 

In the courtroom, Patty stated:  Jacob, I got old the day you were taken from us. I may be 66 now, but as of today, I’m officially 26 years, eight months and six days old. Jacob was alive until we found him. She told the media they needed to heal, and would then speak to them. I found that odd because they had helped her so much. There were a lot of lessons learned. Coping, Processing. Remembering. Mourning. Screaming in agony. He had empty words in court. He had no spirit, no regret. He was just cold, pathetic and hollow.  She was depleted.

 

Danny added heads of classmates from junior high yearbooks to the bodies of naked children he found on the internet.  Patty’s momgut reeled with pain. She learned Jacob was handcuffed.

 

They came up with 11 traits on how he lived his life. Fair, kind, understanding, honest, thankful, good sport, good friend, joyful, generous, gentle with others, positive. A hockey team came up with #11for Jacob, his soccer number. Kids used duct tape on the backs of their shirts. A volleyball team wrote the traits on their arms. A football team walked on the field carrying a No. 11 jersey. Some formed the 11 in their gym and took a photo from overhead. A police department put 11 on their hands. Federal legislators stood in front of the U.S. Capitol holding a sign of the 11 traits. The Twins and Indians played, both wearing patches and the Twins wore special red jerseys that were auctioned for the foundation. They became an unofficial logo.  The Vikings invited the family to a game. They encouraged fans to donate $11 via text. The Minnesota Wild gave a tribute and a $11,000 check. During the program, they took turns turning jerseys with each trait. A bridge in downtown Minneapolis was lit blue. The Ordway Theater displayed a lighted 11. The Guthrie Theater did, too. A couple from St. Joseph paid to have mile markers installed along a 12-mile stretch of the Lake Wobegon Trail, each displaying a trait. Kennedy Elementary retired Jacob’s number and hung it in the cafeteria. On Twitter, a woman shared a note on her windshield. Have a cup of coffee on me, #11for Jacob. It included a gift card. A man who pumped their septic tank charged $11.11. Through people who cared, a flicker of hope was always brought back to the light. Patty writes another letter. We are around the same table where he had dinner, played cards and did crafts. I had to steel myself to do whatever it would to bring you home. Sometimes she wrote on a notebook in her purse, random scrap of paper, journal, cocktail napkin or laptop. It calmed her soul and eased her heart. She recalled memories of a lemonade stand and garage sale to help Ethiopian children. They played “We Are the World,” did skits and made homemade Christmas gifts. Now everything was Before and After. A soldier in Desert Storm carried Jacob’s picture. She tells him what friends are doing. Team HOPE has 500 volunteers and reached out to more than 102,000 people. Jacob had introduced them to survivors and challenges and successes. They had planned next steps, dug deeper and pressured investigators.

 

Jared won his civil lawsuit but won’t see the $17 million.

 

Everything mattered. Every call, piece of evidence, interview, search. Patty was grateful for people who didn’t even know the family. They strengthened her resolve and she didn’t crawl into a shell. She felt like a little kid lost in the forest. Blogger Joy thanked those who told her to take the leap and the net will appear. It was hope and a prayer that carried the Wetterlings. Patty learned not to let the worst things define her. She believes in the power of good people pulling together. Jacob taught her to do good things, work to correct wrongs and fight for a world that is more caring.