I’ve always been a Debbie Macomber fan, so when she lost her own son to suicide, my heart broke for her. In hopes of helping her grief, I sent her the following transcript where Erik provided us with news on his current welfare. I’ve told Debbie that I would reconnect with him after he had a chance to get oriented if she wished.
Me: Have you heard that Debbie Macomber’s 36 year-old son passed away this week? His name is Dale. Thirty-six, apparently a suicide. I’m hoping we can get a message from him for his mom, because I sure know how she feels. I’ve heard that he’s a really sweet guy, but he just got real despondent for some reason.
Jamie: That’s exactly what Erik was saying while you were talking.
Erik: He says he really loves is family. There wasn’t any contention there.
Me: Oh, yeah.
Erik: In fact, he had such deep respect for them that he never wanted to tell them he was doing badly. He didn’t know how to receive love and help, and so instead of asking and learning how to do that, he beat himself up so brutally that the only other external thing he could do is take his own life.
Me: Aw. Does he have any messages for his mama?
(Long pause)
Jamie: It’s weird. I get this image in my head and it’s only the guy’s nail beds. This random image. And, um, the nails are cut, they’re manicured, but there is dirt by the cuticles—not under the nails. It’s not like he was digging in the dirt, but his hands were dirty. Odd image. All I can hear is “I’m sorry.”
Erik: He’s not ready to talk yet. He just got here and he’s getting healing therapy.
Me: Well, maybe we can see if Debbie wants us to ask him some questions a bit later.
Erik: Yeah, I can bring him to a session in the future. Meanwhile, I’ll show him the ropes and orient him, hang out with him. I understand what he went through and what he’s going through now.
Me: Yeah, I know, Honey. Tell Dale we’ll try to get this message to his mom. Erik, maybe you can also help Dale communicate with her.
Erik: I don’t mind being the matchmaker.
Me: I know that’s one of your specialties over there. Tell Dale I said thank you for his time.
Jamie: He was here the whole time. Erik brought him along. He just sort of disappears. No goodbye or anything.
Me: Okay.
R.I.P. Dale
And now, here is a beautiful poem written by our Erik with the help of channel extraordinaire, Robert:
the snow angel
my life faded
as the snow angel
under norwegian sun.
proof of my existence
is expressed in the impression
i left behind.
just as the emerald grass
is compressed
by snow’s blanket,
just as the weight
of the body i once possessed
left whispers of the snow angel
after the warmth of the thaw
called powder Home.
i was here.
i am here
surrounded by loved ones
whose existence remains
and is celebrated by
joyous tears,
by the embrace of infinity.
my body sleeps
just as the snow angel
in norwegian summer.
carry inside
the tangible peace,
the love i expressed,
the mischief i shared.
they replace the shrouds
of my many forms;
brother, son
confidant, prankster,
musician, inventor,
cherished incarnate.
i am the snow angel.
i chose to take flight,
to relish the bliss
just out of reach
while treading winter’s path.
i am forever
at long last.
robert f. burke
december 27, 2011
Again, mark your calendar for the nominations phase of the 2012 Bloggies starting January 1st!
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