Where He Died the First Time

They had fun Today we took a bittersweet trip to Assateague State Park - Eric, Zatha, Jan (Eric's mom), and I. We picked up Fifi our bulldog from the welcoming home of a Naval Academy officer's family who is taking care of her for us (there are actually two families doing it tag-team style) and headed to the Eastern Shore. It's known that locals never visit the famous tourist spots in their own towns, and I felt that way a little bit today. I had been an Ocean City Beach Patrol lifeguard in the summer of 1983, and worked at the Kite Loft in 1984 in Ocean City, MD, and had never driven those few miles south to see the wild ponies. It was a beautiful day. We arrived at the park entrance and were greeted by a MD State Trooper and a Park Ranger who were going to take us to the campground area and accident site where Hans spent his last day on earth. Before they left us alone after sharing all the information they had and showing us around, I asked them to assure me that they, in their hearts, wouldn't equate longboarding, having fun, crashing parties, being rambunctious, etc. with being immoral, and they agreed. What these boys were doing wasn't immoral. They were pleased, I think, that we weren't going to go all 'safety freak' on them. We also agreed that we all seem to forget what it was like, or can't imagine what it's like, to be young manly men (said in a manly man voice). Anyway, the place reminds me of our beloved Topsail Island sans the furry horses and beach houses. We learned so many good things about that day, and forgive me, boys, if the details are slightly wrong. Hans arrived there that Saturday afternoon with his best testerone-ally charged buddies, they set up camp (I think) where I'm assuming Hans hung his hammock, and Hans went off to kiteboard on the sound side of the Island. We were told that it is pretty shallow all the way across the sound, excepting a small channel that isn't very deep, and that it is a prime kitesurfing spot. Hans had an awesome kiteboarding sesh! (He would chide me for trying to sound hip). He told me by phone that afternoon that he was kind of bummed none of them stayed to watch. His friends surfed or swam on the other side and all of them longboarded everywhere, I hear they even used paddles to propel themselves along the flat roads.

At some point they had a canned dinner warmed on a fire that Hans made (firestarter, another gift he had and he was never even a Boy Scout). Then they headed out again, this time to the ocean side where they crashed someone's bonfire party. By then it was dark and they could hear the crashing surf, though they couldn't see it. They decided they were all going to surf in the dark (Love the idea! It sounds so Navy Sealish!), so they started to head back to get their boards and wetsuits. Everyone else had been on the skateboard next to the Jeep except Hans, so it was his turn. Hans was riding goofy (right food forward) and held onto the driver-side door with his right hand, with his back to the Jeep. It was on the little stretch back that the back of Hans's board just barely touched the front of the rear moving wheel and it knocked him from his board, dumping him down between the two wheels. In less than a second, with no time to react, the rear wheel ran over his helmeted head. It happened so fast, but we hear he was hooting and singing along the way. What an awesomely fun day to have as one's last. Like Zatha said, she feels it's better that Hans lived like he did and died, than to live a longer life like a slug. And that he truly lived his last day like it was his last. Good music, great friends, awesome fun.

Each of us lay down where Hans last laid. I truly and personally believe his soul was released there that night when he first died. Hans's friend Jeffrey did have to perform CPR and he did bring Hans's body back to life; thank you Jeffrey for doing that. And thank you Sam for running so quickly for additional help. And thank you Brandon for calling 911 and repositioning your Jeep so EMS could see better as they worked on Hans. Please don't kill yourselves with "what ifs". I can just imagine your panic and yet you worked together as a team to get done what needed to get done. You are already great leaders. The doctors tell us that air was suddenly introduced into his brain at the moment of the accident. I believe that fresh, cool, salty air found it's way in to replace his fresh, cool, salty soul. What an beautiful place for one's soul to soar! Eric and Zatha both brought their longboards (and helmets and pads) and longboarded where Hans last longboarded. Both of them longboarded their way back out of the park.

It was good to be there in some ways, so sad and painful and horrible in others; kind of like chocolate sauce on top of turkey. There's that good in the chocolate sauce (fun day!), but with the turkey (the accident) it doesn't taste quite right. For me right now the chocolate seems to smother and outweigh the turkey. And who doesn't like chocolate! We have tears One of Hans's friends messaged me and said he felt like everyone around him was just "dropping off the earth." His father died last year, and Topsail High School has had its share of young tragedies :( And then of course we have the deaths of the three midshipmen in just six weeks :( I tried to reassure him -- though I'm frequently told I'm too blunt -- that the rate of people are dying now is probably no greater than in the past. We just have more people, more mobility, more connectedness so we know more people, and we know more about them all because of social media. EVERYONE dies. No surprise there. I am hopeful that I don't sound too callous, but it's true and that's life. Even sweet, funny Hans died. I believe it is indeed a parent's worst nightmare to get the call and feel the fear that comes when you think your child (no matter how old they are, they are your child) is in pain, or facing fear alone, or dying, or has died. The ache is indescribable and now there's a little bit of that numbness. But there really is even some peace and acceptance for me too. Even before the accident, when I couldn't sleep for whatever reason, I would lie awake and think of all mothers out there whose children are hurting or dying, or have been victims of violent crimes, and thank goodness we pray for that in church every Sunday. THAT is painful. But every time someone is nice or gentle or giving or even just smiles, it makes living with that pain a little easier. So I will continue to pray for all mothers -- well, really for anyone who loses a loved one, fathers, sisters, brothers, etc. -- because it sucks. And I hope we can find some comfort in the living, in their joyous occasions, and good deeds, and accomplishments, and in their love for and from others. It really is love that has to sustain us.

So the tears -- they still flow copiously. It hasn't even been a week since Hans's death but I feel like I have cried most of my initial tears (and it was so, so horrible those first few days). So, when I see you, my dear friends, for the first time, my heart is crying, it's just my eyes that probably won't be. So please don't think me heartless, or creepy. I've never been one who liked to have my hair held when I am sick to my stomach. I like to be sick in private. But that's just me. I cry for Zatha because she has lost her best friend, the only other person who knows how to properly tease their mother. I cry for Eric because he is the most awesome dad ever and loved to be with Hans. But I also smile because we really do have love. Now, start playing any music related to Hans and we'll all blubber. When the pain seeps in and we feel like crying, we kind of wish we had a sticker on our forehead that says, "Be nice to me - my son/brother died," like the ones they give you when you give blood (oh, and Hans was a multiple-time blood donor too!). Or we wish that the old tradition of wearing all black for a year would come back to help signify we are in mourning. Time does help and we aren't very patient in America sometimes. I know that the song that was Hans's favorite when he died, Sunglassey, we've quoted a couple of times, but it's so true.

"Flow with kindness." We could all work on that during this time because we're all grieving and each think we deserve to grieve the most.

"Flow with love." We really do have that down as a family.

"Flow with nothing." Don't be a bossy cow. Chill.

"I have found it all." Let's keep trying.

P.S. The days are running together and it's hard to find time to type on a computer but I must mention the incredible, wonderful USNA 7th Company gathering yesterday. What an impressive group of young men and women we are honored to have serving in our military as future leaders! They were gracious, warm, loving, giving, strong. The song the girls sang was absolutely gorgeous and touching and tear-inducing -- so much talent, I think you should form a band, you could have lots of fun picking out a name for the group. The video -- deadly music again, we were blubbering. We can't tell you how much in meant to be brought into the inner sanctum. You 'kids' are doing amazing things, keep doing them. Go Navy! Beat Army!