September 10, 2009
Dear Friends,
It has been eight years since our loving daughter, Alicia, was murdered; eight years, which seems like a lifetime ago but feels like only yesterday in many ways. During this time, much healing has taken place; but, that doesn't preclude the pain that I still feel in my heart or the deep sadness that still abides in my soul. I have learned to feel joy again and laughter has returned to help heal my broken heart; I feel a deep sence of peace in my soul; I now feel a greater love and deeper compassion for others; and I see life more clearly than before. Some would say my life is richer and deeper than before and, it is in many ways.
But, for those who have never experienced the heart-wrenching loss of a child, there is no way of really understanding the searing pain or the piercing sadness that penetrates the soul. Our children are such an intricate part of our lives, a treasured gift from God, a physical part of our being...and we give every ounce of love we have to them. They carry our hopes and dreams for a better tomorrow with them; they are extensions of our very souls who will grow beyond us. And our hope is that they will nurture their children with deeper love and greater understanding who will do their part in making our world a better place. The seeds of hope, love, peace, understanding and joy planted in our children will someday flourish and grow. Yet, at the same time, they are more than that. They are God's hope for humankind!
It has been eight years since that tragic day. Many have moved on. Some say, let's celebrate the life that was Alicia. I agree whole-heartedly, but let us honor also the feelings that are all too real for those of us who were directly affected. For in this honoring comes healing, new hope, greater joy, deeper compassion, and better understanding. It's easier to pretend that all is well but all is not well! I will go out on September 11th, kayak on Half Moon Lake, mountain bike on the Potawatomi Trail with my son, Eli, play with my grandson, Logan, sing joyous happy birthday to my son, Zac, laugh with my daughter, Shanoa as we make Mimosas...and, at the same time cry a lake of tears with my wife, Bev. These are healing, honoring tears; they come from the heart and beyond, and they honor the love that I feel for Alicia, the joy she brought to all who knew her, and the peace I feel in my soul. If we allow ourselves to feel the height of our love and joy, we must also allow ourselves to feel the depth of our pain and sadness. I've often said that grief has become my best friend and worst enemy at the same time. On this day, I will welcome the tears of grief and the joy of laughter for they are from the same well-spring.
I am reminded of Alicia's words that she wrote in her Journal in January of 1999 that also speak to these heartfelt words of mine. Alicia wrote this in a time in her life when she was feeling a deep sadness. They are as follows:
Happiness is such an elusive emotion.
One day you're soaring on its wings,
the next you're looking about hoping to catch a glimpse
of its sunny magnificence,
trying to convince yourself it was real
and not just a memory of a fairy tale from childhood.
Over the years my recipe for happiness has changed.
Used to be, all I needed (or thought I needed)
was a knight in shining armor.
Then, it was the King and his kingdom,
next I just needed the kingdom,
I could rule.
What ingredients do I need today?
1) An infinite amount of love to give
and receive freely
2) A purpose, goal, destination,
I'm still working on it.
Those who have known
the greatest happiness
have opened themselves
to the most gut-wrenching sorrow.
It's a gamble, you have to play to win.
Or maybe those who have endured suffering
have a greater respect for joy,
can appreciate it wherever they find it,
the smell of a rose,
the sight of a baby,
an old couple holding hands.
And those who've lived their lives
in a heart numbing cocoon
of sanity, safety, and contentment
don't have the capacity for pure joy.
Or, maybe this is what I tell myself
in order to pick myself up,
dust off, and hop on again.
Back into the battle. -
By Alicia Titus
Written January 4, 1999