Remembering Alex- The "O" in Joy

On March 22, 2012, my family was vacationing in Florida. Well, my daughter wasn’t with us—we were not on the best of terms.  It was my husband, my son, his girlfriend and myself. It was our last day in Florida, when I got a call from my daughter, who was in tears. “Alex died!!! Alex died!”  Her longtime friend, only 21 years old had passed from an accidental overdose.

Let’s go back about 15 years. My daughter had met Alex when she was in grade school. He was a cousin of her best girlfriends. He was a dark haired boy with the biggest brown eyes. He was such a funny kid with a personality that could light up a room.  He hammed it up with parents and was always a favorite of mine. He was hysterical. He was the middle child of 3 kids and his parents are just as hilarious. They were a fun, kind, hard working family that ran the gamut of traveling baseball and sports with their children. They were raising their kids in a suburb in Southwest Missouri, where the town relished sports and the American dream. The town still relishes sports and the American dream. For some though, the American dream has been tarnished now.

Alex was boisterous and happy and adventurous. I guess you could say that he became too adventurous. As he got older, he began to indulge in alcohol and then pills. One time he drank so much that he was hospitalized with severe alcohol poisoning.  It almost cost him his life. I visited him in the hospital and his mom and dad and grandparents were by his side. He was not awake to talk to me---but his mom said that he was so lucky to be alive and that he had done so much damage to his liver that he should not drink again or it could kill him. He dodged a bullet. His life was spared. He made it.

Alex graduated from high school. He continued to party and continued to be the life of the party. Everyone loved Alex. Unfortunately, he started using more pills and his pill addiction had become a huge force in his life. His parents had kicked him out, let him back in, kicked him out…and the cycle continued. They were worried. They didn’t know what to do. They did the best they could. They loved him unconditionally. Like most parents---they tried it all.

When I got the call regarding his passing, I couldn’t help but reflect on the little boy I had known. I had just seen him weeks before working at a drive through at a restaurant. He came to the window, all personable, “HEY STEPH!!!”  I said, “Well, hey, Al!”  It didn’t matter what was going on in his life, he still was friendly and kind when I would see him. I knew he and my daughter had both made a mess of their lives at that time---but I also knew the kind of kids that they once were. You couldn’t help but love him. “How did this happen to him?”  It made me sick.

His parents asked me to do a video for his funeral service. I was honored. I have only made a few videos for graduation and another for another friend who passed—but had never made one for a formal service. I went to their house to get the disc of photos. I was nervous about going there. It was a sad and scary reality that I feared would happen in my own life. A parent’s worst nightmare. I was scared to face the same parents that I had known for so long. Longtime teen sweethearts, having to bury their child. What do you even say to someone? No words can possibly ease the pain.  I walked into their house and they both hugged me. His dad began to cry. Here was this man, who I watched through the years, coaching his son’s in baseball---a funny, fun-loving guy, who always seemed so strong. He was a crumpled mess. He was broken hearted. He was devastated.  It broke my heart. I had no words. Alex’s mom tried to stay composed but she looked so tired and so numb. She seemed to be the one who was trying to hold things together, but maybe reality hadn’t quite sunk in yet. You could feel the love in that house. You could also feel the pain and absence of their child already.

I took the pictures home and began to make the video. I started it with a picture of his daddy holding him for the very first time. Ironically, his mom wasn’t in any of the pictures. I even asked her if she had any—and she couldn't find any. She was always the picture taker.   Always there—just never on that side of the camera. I hated that she wasn’t in any of them. She remembered the facts and circumstances behind every photo. She was the one who captured the memory. I finished the video with a current photo. He was a fan of the Green Bay Packers. His pallbearers all wore Green Bay shirts at his service. During the service, his parents had someone sitting between them; I believe it was a niece, whom they were comforting. After the video played, I looked over and saw them stand up and go to each other and embrace. They just stood there crying, holding one another. It was one of the saddest things I had ever seen. Here these two people were, who brought this brown-eyed baby into the world---and having to bury him at age 21.

“How could their lives ever be the same without this dark and curly haired funny guy? How could his friends ever be the same without his laugh and entertainment? How could his siblings ever find normalcy again?  How can his parents live through this?” After all, he was their “O” in their Joy. His mom told me their stocking holders at Christmas spell JOY. They hang their 3 children’s stockings and Alex, goes in the middle, being the middle child. He is the “O” in Joy. She just kept saying one night, “He is my O in Joy. He will always be the O in my joy!” For the two years since his death, she has continued to hang the stockings.

6 months ago, I was driving my daughter to Dallas for treatment and Alex’s mom talked to her on the phone. She asked her to play a song, so I downloaded it. She said it was a song Alex used to listen to and he said that my daughter had shared it with him and it had become a favorite of hers. It was called “Into the Ocean” by Blue October. Never heard it in my life until that day. The chorus goes, like this:

                        “I want to swim away, but don’t know how

                        Sometimes I feel just like I’m falling in the ocean

                        Let the waves up take me down

                        Let the hurricane set in motion…yeah

                        Let the rain of what I feel right now…come down

                        Let the rain come down…”

What appropriate lyrics to how we were all feeling right then. Here my daughter was trying to save her life…and Alex’s mom was throwing her a life vest. As they talked for about 30-45 minutes, my daughter stayed very strong but I could tell Alex’s mom was crying. I could hear her say, “You have to do this. You must do this. You must fix this. He is with you.”  They hung up and my daughter cried. She said, “I can’t believe we have put our mom’s through this pain. I can’t believe he is gone. I feel so bad for her.”

I talk to his mom quite a bit. We are very good friends. I could not ask for a more supportive friend. Alex’s parents want nothing more than to see other people’s lives changed and some good to come from their tragic loss. We talk a lot about the struggles of our children and how we wish we could have changed the path they chose. Of course now we see things we did not see back then and we compare notes. We reminisce about their childhood and funny things they did as kids. I know that Alex’s parents are cheerleaders who are at the finish line rooting for my daughter to succeed. I would like to think that if I lost my child, I could be as supportive to others as they are to me. Their friendship has strengthened me. I know each day they have to make a conscious effort to keep going and living their lives. I know that the hole in their hearts will never be filled.

I hope other’s can look at Alex’s parents and see the enormous pain his loss has caused and if they need help, they will seek it.  I know nothing would make his parent’s happier than if his lesson could change lives. He loved life and he would not have wanted it to end on March 22, 2012 and knowing how much he loved people---I know he would want others to learn from his tragic ending. My heart still aches for his parents. I am blessed by their friendship and I pray for them daily.

So---on March 22nd, please say a prayer for Alex’s family and remember their “O” in Joy.