A First Day of Spring

It was Monday, March 20, 2000 and my daughter Ann had just returned from a trip to Scottsdale, Arizona. I picked her up from a Park and Ride lot we had chosen as a meeting point following her bus ride from SeaTac Airport.

As I was driving back towards our home, I brought up a recent conversation that I had with a young female friend that had known our son, Scott. Scott died in July, 1998 at the age of twenty-two. He was a passenger in an SUV that left the roadway and crashed into a tree, instantly killing him and two of his friends upon impact. Unbelievably, a fourth passenger was fortunate to survive that accident. While talking with this female friend, I had mentioned that his friends had stopped coming by to visit with us. I knew in my heart that it was inevitable, that the time had come for them to move on with their lives.

The female friend told me that Scott’s male friends stopped coming by our house because they felt uncomfortable dealing with his death. They didn’t want to display their emotions and end up crying in front of us. The friend went on to say that most of the females acquainted with our son knew him due to all of his guy friends. Scott did have a steady girl friend, and was in a committed relationship with her. As far as his friendships with other girls, I met quite a few in the days following his death and felt some considered him to be a valued friend.

One that I especially remembered was a girl named Sarah. In the early days following his death,she had joined the other young people visiting our home. One day, Sarah came alone. During that visit, I learned that our son had given her rides to the high school in his pick up. She even had a special nickname that she called him. Her visit that day was to share her sorrow and to let me know that she cared for him and missed having him in her life.

As Ann and I continued our trip back to the house, I commented to her that I had always felt that Sarah loved Scott as a friend. We arrived at our house and Ann got into her car and left to go back to her home. I had shopping errands I needed to finish, including a stop at the drugstore to pick up a prescription that was ready for me. Once I arrived there, I decided to buy a yellow Primrose plant and a basket. I also purchased a cellophane sheet to tuck inside the basket to keep the plant moist. I fashioned a ribbon bow for decoration, and included a gift tag with a love note to Scott that I attached to the handle. I knew where I was going to go after I left the store, and within minutes I arrived at the cemetery to leave my flower remembrance on Scott's grave.

It was already starting to get dark when I drove through the entrance. The sign posted at the gate stated that the cemetery visiting hours ended at dusk. I knew I had little time remaining for my visit. No one else was visiting that late in the day, but I did notice a man and woman walking their dogs through the property. Odd as it seems, it is a people friendly cemetery and is frequently used by walkers and jogger who live close by.


I parked my car, and with my flower basket in hand, walked up the sidewalk that led to my son’s grave. I had a tea light candle with me, so I sat down to light it and to spend a few moments with him before I had to leave. Suddenly, a small burgundy pickup truck pulled into the area where I parked my car. It appeared that someone else was intent on making a late visit with a loved one before the gates closed for the day. I continued observing the new visitor and noticed it was a female driver that arrived alone. She proceeded to get out of the truck and walked around in front of it. Then she waved at me. I stood up and waved back, wondering what was going on. She waved again and as she did she spoke my name. I was totally amazed when I heard her say, “Hi, Judy, it’s Sarah”. It was surreal and I felt like I must be dreaming. Words could not begin to explain the emotions that I was experiencing. When she reached me I was in tears, and we shared a mutual hug.

Sarah told me she had not visited the cemetery for a very long time. She decided to stop by on her way home from work, and had called her boyfriend to tell him of her plans. She said she wanted to stop by because it was the First Day of Spring and she wanted to spend time at Scott’s graveside.

She asked me if I thought our encounter that day was a sign. I couldn’t think of it being explained any other way. We said our goodbyes and she promised to come by soon to visit with me. She kept that promise, but fate did not work out for another meeting. I wasn’t home at the time she stopped by the house. I never heard from her again, but I will never forget her or the events that proceeded our reunion on that beautiful and memorable Spring day.

Thank you Father God for your surprise blessings and for messengers sent through friends that reaffirm your loving presence in our lives.

IT IS IN THE GIVING THAT WE RECEIVE THE GREATEST GIFT...

It was by chance that I found a woman's iPod along with her American Express card during a recent shopping trip to a local grocery store. Realizing how upset and concerned she would be upon discovering her missing items, I immediately dropped them off at the Customer Service Desk. Hopefully the owner would be immediately notified, and she could return to the store to reclaim her lost belongings.

The following day, I went to a Lowe's Hardware store to shop for a list of items my husband needed for a project he had scheduled. After completing the purchases, I returned to my car, got in the driver's seat, and put the key in the ignition to start it and to begin the drive back to my home. That was when I discovered I had left the headlights on, and that my car battery was dead. When I glanced up, I noticed two young women parked next to me and both were pointing at the hood of my car in acknowledgement of my predicament. Before I could even consider what I needed to do next, one of the young women appeared in front of my car with a set of jumper cables. It seemed to all happen so quickly. In less than a minute the two young women had my car back in running order. I felt such gratitude for the kindness they had shown, and they, in turn, expected nothing back for going out of their way to help me. I have always been a firm believer in practicing the Golden Rule. The rewards of honoring the sweet simplicity of that rule.. just might be returned to you sooner than you could possibly ever imagine.

A First Romance

The year was 1962, and I was eighteen years old and living in a small town in Eastern Washington. I had just finished my freshman year at the local junior college when I received an invitation to spend the summer with a friend and her family that had moved to Seattle. It was an adventurous and exciting offer to consider, and after discussing the possibility with my parents, I accepted the invitation. I had never spent any significant time away from home before and looked forward to the experience. Once settled into my new location, I hoped to find full time work during those months that I lived there. Not long after my arrival, my dream of a city job became a reality when I accepted an office position in a downtown department store. Once onboard with my new job, my employer suggested I continue working beyond the summer months and into the early autumn of the following year. I agreed with that arrangement since I wanted to save money to attend another year of school. There was so much to see and do and learn about life in the city. It seemed as if I had all of eternity to think about making other decisions related to my future.

Forty-eight years have passed since those carefree days of my youth. The summers of 1962 and 1963 were a time for experiencing independence and of learning about responsibilities. It also was a time for dealing with something I was not prepared to handle…an awakening to the emotions and feelings of the heart which occurred with my first romance.

I had never done much dating while in high school and I never had any great expectations of meeting anyone special. At least, not just yet. It all changed one warm summer night in June of 1963 when a chance meeting brought a charming young man into my life. I felt an instant attraction to him from the first moment that we met. We started to date, and it was always with his plans in mind of what we would do and where we would go. I was the newcomer in town and he was the home town boy that had grown up in the area and knew his way around the city.


One Sunday morning my phone rang. He called to ask if I would be available to see him later that day. I always looked forward to being with him and within a short time he arrived at my doorstep. He smiled as he took my hand in his as we walked down the front steps from the house where I lived in the University District. It was a beautiful sunlit day and he suggested we walk to the nearby campus on a stroll together. It was a perfect choice for the afternoon, and within a short time we arrived at our destination.

While there we spent time walking and talking, enjoying the sunshine and one another’s company. When we entered a tree lined pathway he stopped, and without speaking, touched my face and then kissed me softy and passionately. I had never known anyone that made we feel like he did. It made my heart race just to be with him. Emotionally, I wasn't sure what was happening to me…or that I might be falling in love with him. All I knew was he made me feel appreciated and valued in ways like I had never known before.

We shared but brief moments together that summer of 1963. It was a time of innocence and of passions never destined to evolve into a mature love relationship. Other life choices sent us in different directions and our paths never crossed again. I will always remember that summer romance as a special gift. What once was would never be, yet the memories of him will never be lost or stolen away from me as they are a part of my heart and soul forever.

Bye, Bye Blackbird!

It was Friday, March 12th, around 6:00 p.m. when I noticed flocks of Crows flying in formation during the remaining daylight moments of the day. I had just pulled into a parking space at my local grocery store when I glanced up and noticed the birds flying overhead. Their flight pattern originated from the north and they continued their journey by traveling south east apparently directed by whatever force of nature was guiding them to their new destination.


I paused to watch them and even attempted to count their numbers as they passed through the area. When I reached an estimated number of somewhere around 300 strong, I decided I had done enough watching..and counting and got out of my car and walked towards the store. When I crossed the parking lot, I could hear cawing cries called out by some of the birds in flight, so it wasn't entirely a silent journey for the more vocal members of these flocks. When I reached the entrance to the store, I noticed even more would soon be arriving overhead as they made their way in this seemingly never ending event that was taking place in early Spring.

I couldn't help but wonder what the "purpose" or mission was for these birds migrating together so late in the day? Not one person coming or going from the store appeared to be phased by any of this unusual bird activity. I felt I had witnessed a unique moment with nature by observing these feathered beings and in doing so gained a new awareness of their strong and phenomenal presence in our communities.

Thoughts on Flight 261

On Friday, January 29, 2010, The Seattle Times front page edition carried the featured article: Alaska Flight 261/ 10 years after the crash.

The headline read: 'A part of you dies, and you will never get it back'.

It began by stating that most of the victims had spent their last days playing in the sun. It continues...that knowing that, it provides some comfort to the families and friends who have leaned on each other through the past l0 years of heartbreak and outrage since the crash of Flight 261.


It goes on to say that some of them, which they refer to collectively as "survivors", have found peace and acceptance, but others burn with anger over their personal losses. Some say the silver linings and deeper meanings of God's plans remain mysteries to them. Many believe love does transcend death in the end. And most have learned to live with a broken heart.

The survivors of Flight 261 have found ways to heal, cope and endure because they've had to.

Some found solace in their faith. Many cling to the good memories or see evidence of their loved one's spirit around them.

Many survivors also said they find some comfort in knowing that their loved ones were together, with family, or best friends, when they died.

Or that their last days had been glorious.

Many of them have found strength in each other.

The widow of Alaska's 261's pilot was quoted as saying that she has found purpose and pleasure in raising money and serving as chairman of a memorial scholarship fund created in memory of her husband and the copilot of that fatal flight.

She said the story needs to be remembered.

The grieving journey is a part of their lives.

I know all too well about that of which the survivors speak. Life, truly is very fragile and whether we give much thought to it or genuinely appreciate just how precious it is, when a loved one suddenly dies and is taken out of your life forever, you are instantly thrown into a state of disbelief, indescribable pain and a chaotic kind of reality.

It has been almost eleven years since we lost our twenty-two year old son, Scott, as a result of a sudden death accident. He was a passenger in a vehicle that left the road and struck a tree, killing him and two friends upon impact. During that early period of loss, I can best describe my pain feeling like my own heart had been ripped out of my chest. Just like the 'survivors' of Flight 261, and all of us walking the journey following the sudden deaths of our loved ones, the harshness of our initial loss softens over time, but we will never forget them and our reality remains as painful to us as if it had only happened yesterday.

Favorite Things...

I absolutely love things with a vintage feel and touch. I know that I am not alone in this personal interest and have lots of company in the pursuit of all that is time worn and beautiful. As a kindred soul, with an appreciative beholders eye, I never seem to tire of the hunt for things with a memorable past. Ever since I was a little girl, I have had a love affair with the endless variety of wonderful memento's created before my time. For whatever reasons, it seems to draw from within me and will always be a part of me, providing a source of great joy and comfort in my everyday life. Finding special objects seems to occur by sheer accident at times, yet it is always fun to come across something unique that "asks" to be purchased and taken home for endless moments of enjoyment.