Christmas is a lovely time of year. It's nice to see my own kids enjoying the holiday, making and eating cookies and candy, and opening gifts. But there was something missing this year. Someone missing. Not that I would have spent Christmas with him, or he with us. But at church on Christmas Eve I lit a candle for Gabe and cried. I enjoyed mass, I enjoyed the Christmas Carols. I rang bells with my kids. And I wished and prayed to have just a moment with Gabe.
Last Christmas I did not get to see him. While he was home for Christmas from his lock up experience in Kearney he spent time with his family, which I am sure they are thankful for in hindsight.
This reminds of the first letter I got from Gabe while he was there. I found out by way of people who cared for Gabe that he had been sent to Kearney. I sent him a card, just to say that if he needed anything, he needed only to ask. That first letter I got from him was dark, self deprecating, and hopeless. He asked that I not write to him. That he was sorry to have disappointed me. That he knew I would want nothing more to do with him.
But, I decided to ignore his apparent depression over being locked up and wrote him again. I'm not sure exactly what I said, but something to the effect that I was not giving up on him, that while I was disappointed that his actions led him here I still cared about him, and that he could not get rid of me that easily. And then, I asked him what he needed to make his time there more bearable. You see, Gabe was an avid reader and writer and I was concerned that if he did not have access to those needs he would sink deeper into despair. I sent stamps and envelopes to him and hoped, prayed, and waited for his reply.
And his reply was so much the Gabe I knew. He apologized for his hopeless outlook in the previous letter. He shared some concerns and insights about his situation. He accepted responsibility for his actions. And he asked only for notebooks and pens.
Do you comprehend that? A seventeen year old boy, in a horrible situation, unable to leave of his own will, going everywhere with eight others at all times. Yet he asks for paper and pens. Because he wants to start writing. He doesn't ask for money to buy things at the 'store' or candy, gum, or treats. He asks for something to write with and on.
I immediately sent a couple of notebooks and pens so he could get started. I also sent more stamps and envelopes so he could write, not just me but his family and all the others who cared about him. And I hoped he got them. And I waited for a reply. And hoped that in some small way this helped.
The next letter I got was a treat for this geeky teacher. He thanked me for the notebooks and pens and stamps. He told me how things were getting a little better everyday. He shared with me that he was getting along fairly well with his group. Then he asked, if it was not too much trouble could I send him a...wait for it...thesaurus. A thesaurus. Maybe a dictionary as well. But that he totally understood if I could not send these as he did not wish to impose. And I'll admit I went overboard. I sent him not only a thesaurus and dictionary, but also more paper, notebooks, composition books, all kinds of pens, The Hunger Games trilogy, a couple of other books. I think I had to split it up into two boxes before shipping it.
I did go way overboard. Gabe later wrote to me that they now had 'rules' about how many items one person could receive. While he thanked me he also told me that some of things I sent him had to be sent back to his home as it was too much. He did get to keep the notebooks, pens, and the thesaurus. He was disappointed that he could not keep the whole trilogy of The Hunger Games as he really wanted to know how it all ended. (He did get to finish after he returned to Omaha.)
I couldn't tell you how many cards and letters we exchanged while Gabe was in Kearney, but each one meant a great deal to me. I regret that once he returned to Omaha I did not hold on to every letter he sent. I have one or two left, which I have not been able to read since losing him. I do know that Gabe received letters from many while there. And I know that they meant a great deal to him. One of the most difficult moments at Gabe's funeral was when his sister place many of those cards and letters in his casket right before it closed. She said that she couldn't imagine him without those as he carried them around in a box labeled "Gabe's important things." When I saw her place those cards and letters in the casket I was moved beyond words. And I bawled and bawled. I couldn't stop because I knew how right Esther was, though I wished I could have read each and every one of them.
Gabe was a spirit that quietly charmed all who allowed him in their hearts and minds. He was not flamboyant about it, as a matter of fact it didn't seem like he was even trying. That was Gabe. Subtle and honest, worming his way into the hearts and minds of those whom trusted and respected. And I am honored to have been one of those lucky chosen by him to be part of his short life here on earth.
I am certain that there is some reason or lesson or some greater good to be gained by his death. But at this point I can't begin to imagine what it is.
I miss him daily.
I fear I always will.
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Last Christmas I did not get to see him. While he was home for Christmas from his lock up experience in Kearney he spent time with his family, which I am sure they are thankful for in hindsight.
This reminds of the first letter I got from Gabe while he was there. I found out by way of people who cared for Gabe that he had been sent to Kearney. I sent him a card, just to say that if he needed anything, he needed only to ask. That first letter I got from him was dark, self deprecating, and hopeless. He asked that I not write to him. That he was sorry to have disappointed me. That he knew I would want nothing more to do with him.
But, I decided to ignore his apparent depression over being locked up and wrote him again. I'm not sure exactly what I said, but something to the effect that I was not giving up on him, that while I was disappointed that his actions led him here I still cared about him, and that he could not get rid of me that easily. And then, I asked him what he needed to make his time there more bearable. You see, Gabe was an avid reader and writer and I was concerned that if he did not have access to those needs he would sink deeper into despair. I sent stamps and envelopes to him and hoped, prayed, and waited for his reply.
And his reply was so much the Gabe I knew. He apologized for his hopeless outlook in the previous letter. He shared some concerns and insights about his situation. He accepted responsibility for his actions. And he asked only for notebooks and pens.
Do you comprehend that? A seventeen year old boy, in a horrible situation, unable to leave of his own will, going everywhere with eight others at all times. Yet he asks for paper and pens. Because he wants to start writing. He doesn't ask for money to buy things at the 'store' or candy, gum, or treats. He asks for something to write with and on.
I immediately sent a couple of notebooks and pens so he could get started. I also sent more stamps and envelopes so he could write, not just me but his family and all the others who cared about him. And I hoped he got them. And I waited for a reply. And hoped that in some small way this helped.
The next letter I got was a treat for this geeky teacher. He thanked me for the notebooks and pens and stamps. He told me how things were getting a little better everyday. He shared with me that he was getting along fairly well with his group. Then he asked, if it was not too much trouble could I send him a...wait for it...thesaurus. A thesaurus. Maybe a dictionary as well. But that he totally understood if I could not send these as he did not wish to impose. And I'll admit I went overboard. I sent him not only a thesaurus and dictionary, but also more paper, notebooks, composition books, all kinds of pens, The Hunger Games trilogy, a couple of other books. I think I had to split it up into two boxes before shipping it.
I did go way overboard. Gabe later wrote to me that they now had 'rules' about how many items one person could receive. While he thanked me he also told me that some of things I sent him had to be sent back to his home as it was too much. He did get to keep the notebooks, pens, and the thesaurus. He was disappointed that he could not keep the whole trilogy of The Hunger Games as he really wanted to know how it all ended. (He did get to finish after he returned to Omaha.)
I couldn't tell you how many cards and letters we exchanged while Gabe was in Kearney, but each one meant a great deal to me. I regret that once he returned to Omaha I did not hold on to every letter he sent. I have one or two left, which I have not been able to read since losing him. I do know that Gabe received letters from many while there. And I know that they meant a great deal to him. One of the most difficult moments at Gabe's funeral was when his sister place many of those cards and letters in his casket right before it closed. She said that she couldn't imagine him without those as he carried them around in a box labeled "Gabe's important things." When I saw her place those cards and letters in the casket I was moved beyond words. And I bawled and bawled. I couldn't stop because I knew how right Esther was, though I wished I could have read each and every one of them.
Gabe was a spirit that quietly charmed all who allowed him in their hearts and minds. He was not flamboyant about it, as a matter of fact it didn't seem like he was even trying. That was Gabe. Subtle and honest, worming his way into the hearts and minds of those whom trusted and respected. And I am honored to have been one of those lucky chosen by him to be part of his short life here on earth.
I am certain that there is some reason or lesson or some greater good to be gained by his death. But at this point I can't begin to imagine what it is.
I miss him daily.
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