Birth Month - Day 31

Well, today is the last day of Andrew's birth month.  It has been bittersweet to write this month's posts while reflecting back over his life.  At times I am in awe of how he touched other people and then sadness overcomes me when I realize he is no longer here.  The other night, just as I was drifting off to sleep I heard him say "Mom" clear as a bell.  I jumped out of bed looking for him and then realized he was not there and began crying.  I long to see him, talk to him, or just give him a hug - just one more time.

Anyway, I thought it would be fitting to end the month with another keepsake I have.  Some things I'll keep forever, and this is one of them.  Andrew loved lacrosse shorts, as we all know, but he also had quite the t-shirt collection.  After Matt and Natalia took the t-shirts they wanted to keep, I sent the rest off to be made into a blanket.  They really do tell the story of his life.  Here it is.

The top row - sort of tough to see - but these were shirts from vacations and one from our church.

The next three rows were all about his love of Nike, motorcycles, the Braves, video games, and of course - the USA red, white, and blue!

Next up is Duluth Lacrosse - he loved that game.

The last row was how he supported breast cancer - a cause close to our hearts having lost my step-mom to the disease in 2000 and then nearly losing my aunt a few years ago (she is doing well now)!

This is such a fabulous blanket and it is totally Andrew.  Now I am ready for fall and winter as I have two amazing blankets (remember the one his team at work gave me with pictures) to keep me warm.

I miss you buddy!  Stupid motorcycle.

Birth Month - Day 30

As Andrew’s birth month is nearing the end, I thought I would share a very personal letter I received.  This is a letter from a woman I have never met, but am completely jealous of, yet at the same time eternally grateful to her.  You see, she was the one who held Andrew the day of his crash.  She was the one who encouraged him to hang on, letting him know the ambulance was coming, and she cared enough to ask for his name.  Then she cared enough to let me know he was not alone.  While I’ll always wish I could have been the one to hold Andrew as he died so I could tell him one last time how much I loved him, I am thankful God chose this woman (I’m not using her name to protect her privacy – she will see this and can comment if she is okay with others knowing it was her) to be in Andrew’s life, even if only for minutes.  Here is her story:

“Dear Ms. Carson,

My name is XXX.  I am writing to you about your son Andrew.

I was at the scene of Andrew’s accident.  I thought some information about that day might bring you some comfort and closure.  I hope this letter provides some of both for you.

This is an incredibly difficult letter to write.  To find the words to express my experience at the accident is quite challenging.  I wrote a statement for the police report, but kept it as plain and factual as possible, leaving out the emotions and thoughts I’ve had.  I assume you’ll have access to the police report once they finish, and can read that info if you so choose.  I’m writing this letter to express the human side, the emotional side, the thoughtful side of my experience.

I have looked at your Facebook page several times.  I’ve also read the blog you’ve been writing recently about grieving Andrew.  I hope that this is ok.  It has helped me process all that happened and helped me to know you might want this letter.

The day of the accident I was driving from my house in Canton, to my brother-in-law’s house in Monroe, GA.  I had 2 of my kids with me.  I was running late, and some “random route” that wasn’t even what google maps was telling me to take.

I was filling up my van with gas at the time of the accident, at the gas station right there.  I heard the crash, but did not see it.  Many people ran over to the accident scene.  I finished my gas purchase and drive my van over to see if I could do anything to help, although wasn’t sure what I’d be able to do, having my kids in the car with me.

There was a crowd of people around the scene.  I asked a few people what had happened.  I was informed it was a motorcycle and car crash.  It was then that I saw Andrew, lying on the ground near his bike.  Before I could ask anyone for information on what happened, I saw Andrew pick up his head and try to move.

I ran to him. I told him not to move. Another young man, probably around 20 years old was near him telling him the same thing.  Without much thinking or hesitation, I cradled Andrew’s head and neck to help him hold still.  I told him my name, that I would help him, told him 911 has been called, told him help was coming.  I hope that he heard me, and I am confident that he knew I was there with him.  He stopped trying to move and his head rested on my forearm.

Another lady named XXX (also protecting her privacy), prayed over all of us.

I desperately wanted to call him by his name.  Saying “sir” when talking to him didn’t feel right/enough.  The guy that was kneeling with me next to Andrew helped to find his work badge in his backpack.  We were able to call him by his name at that point.  I wanted him to feel surrounded by people that cared enough to help, cared enough to call him by his name.

I do not know at what point he lost consciousness, but I did notice his head got heavier on my arm and his breathing was getting more labored.  But I talked to him regardless, I wanted him to know he was NOT alone.

As the sirens and emergency vehicles were heard/seen, I was telling him to hold on.  I telling him they were near.  Me and the other guy were telling him to breathe!!!  There were longer and longer spaces between each breath.  But he did keep fighting to breathe, especially every time we would call his name.  I had hoped that if he was able to survive the impact of the crash, he may have a chance of surviving the accident.

The paramedics took over, and I walked away to check on my kids in the van.  It was not until Friday evening that I was able to do some searching on google and found out Andrew had not survived his injuries.  It was then I realized I probably was holding him in some of his last moments and breaths.  I hope and pray that I brought comfort to him in those moments.  I kept thinking that if it was my brother or my son, or my husband, I wouldn’t want them to have been alone.  And I am thankful for the opportunity through God’s providence to have been there with Andrew.

I am writing this letter to make sure you know Andrew was not alone.  He was prayed over.  People tried to help him as best they could.

I am a bit of a wimp when it comes to injuries and blood and such.  But I wanted you to know I was brave for your son.  I do not allow my panic or fear to settle in.  I wanted to be a source of comfort and peace for him in what had to have been a painful and scary time.

I am a very religious person, and have asked many people to pray for me, Andrew, you, and all those who loved him.  From your writings, it appears you have faith in Jesus as well.  Please know HUNDREDS of people have been praying for you all.  Being very religious and being present at the accident scene so close to Easter, my experience of the Easter promise this year was intense.  I am thankful fate/life/God had me running late and on some “random route” to my destination that Thursday.  Like I said, I have looked at the things you’ve posted on Facebook in an effort to get to know the man that has so immensely impacted my life through this experience.  The pictures on Facebook show Andrew with such gentle and warm eyes!

I cannot imagine the grief you must be experiencing in losing your child.  I am so sorry for your loss.  As I stated earlier, I hope this letter is helpful in your grieving process.

With much love and prayer,

XXX”

Thank God good people still exist, jump in to help in a crisis, and offer comfort to those who grieve.  I am truly blessed and in awe of a God who would make sure Andrew was surrounded by love.  Although thanks do not seem to be enough, it is all I have to offer this woman.  My deepest and sincerest thanks go to her daily for what she did for Andrew.

Birth Month - Day 29

When Andrew was growing up he was always quiet and shy.  I often wondered did he not stand a chance with Matt and I since we were always so loud.  Then as he got into middle and high school I learned he was quite the talker.  I thought perhaps the teachers were contacting the wrong parent but soon learned Andrew was indeed spreading his wings and talking up a storm.  After he died I was desperate to hear stories about him from other people, whether they knew him well or not.  I just wanted to know people remembered him fondly.  I have plenty of my own stories of Andrew, but as a mother, I wanted to know that other people genuinely liked him.  I wanted to know others who loved him and saw good in him too.  I needed to know his life mattered and impacted others.  I was not disappointed.  I received many cards, letters, notes, emails, and texts full of wonderful memories.  As I look back on them today, I wanted to share a couple from two people who didn't know him that well, but thought enough of him to send me these notes.  Thank you to everyone who loved Andrew and many thanks for sharing your stories.

Birth Month - Day 28

Teachers play an important role in the lives of our children.  I knew when Andrew liked or disliked a teacher within the first week of the class.  Their level of enthusiasm and ability to capture and hold his attention meant he would have a good semester.  Too much homework or the same old boring thing he already mastered meant he would do just enough to get through the class but he wouldn't enjoy it or learn anything new.  I knew how the teacher impacted his life, but I never knew how he impacted their lives, until he died.

Below are two notes I got from three of his teachers - all Language Arts teachers - which was odd to me, because I always thought Andrew preferred science and math.  I was touched they took the time to reach out and recall how Andrew made a difference for them.  I am grateful to them and hope they all continue to teach and shape the minds of future generations.

And this came in email:

Dear Ms. Carson,

I originally wrote this on Good Friday, when I heard of Andrew’s passing. I wanted to send you a personal letter or card, but just couldn’t find it in myself. Then, I was going to send you a type-written letter.  And then I lost my words. Please read what I have to say. It’s my original message and more:

Where do I begin?  I suppose with an apology for sending a type-written letter.  I am a big believer in tradition and find it terribly inappropriate that anyone would send such a thing as I am doing now—without the cursive handwriting and sloppy penmanship—without the teardrops that blur the ink (although I promise you, the keyboard of my laptop is definitely soaked).  But I’m doing it.  I’m typing my condolences.  In my defense, modern technology makes it so much easier to compose my thoughts, edit them, and make them more coherent.

Andrew was a student in my sixth grade language arts class at Duluth Middle School.  It was my first year teaching middle school.  Ever.  I was much younger, much more optimistic, and much more passionate about my career when I taught your son.  Previously, I worked in marketing, mostly in Las Vegas.  I was a copywriter and advertising coordinator. I liked my job but I knew it was an empty promise.  I wanted to be more like my mother—I wanted to be a teacher.  I left my demanding job at Boyd Gaming and took a lowly paying position at a Catholic School to pursue my Master’s Degree.  At the time, this little office job was more convenient and conducive to what I ultimately wanted.  And then somehow, by the Grace of God, (and a newspaper advertisement in the Chicago Tribune), I learned about Gwinnett County Public Schools.  After graduating, I packed my bags and started over. 

That’s when I met Andrew. This is where I pause and struggle with my words.  Maybe they won’t be articulate or meaningful.  But they are true.  I remember Andrew’s freckles and his moppy hair. I remember how easily he blushed when I teased him. He was very quiet mostly. Almost solemn.   He was the kind of boy that had a story, but nobody knew what it was.  On the outside, Andrew was the quintessential All-American boy. Andrew was handsome, rugged, athletic.  He was a good student.  He was popular and loved by his classmates, yet I always sensed there was something more.  Maybe he was wise beyond his years.  I will never know.

Then Andrew became a stranger to me.  I say this both lovingly and jokingly. I struggle with my words even more now—trying to remember something that is actually so fresh in my mind.  On social media, I asked former students to help me move my classroom when I learned that I would be transitioning from sixth grade to seventh grade at Duluth Middle School.  The girls from Andrew’s class were excited!  I would provide them with lunch (pizza and pop) and then we would spend some time together.  I never heard from Andrew or even expected him.  And then he showed up.

And this is how it went:  I saw a big, strong man walking through the halls of Duluth Middle School.  I asked him if he was lost.  He said, “Ms. Opalka, it’s me.  Andrew Carson.”  I couldn’t believe it.  Andrew was unrecognizable.  Ironically, that’s how I remember him. A dichotomy.  A young, rosy faced boy all grown-up.  Lifting furniture.  Helping.  Moving.  A deep voice.  Funny. Sweet.  Still quiet.  He was a gentleman.  And that’s it. My last interaction with him. Quick. Casual. We ate our pizza and went about separate ways. And that was that. 

And now is now. Life toys with us, I suppose.  Again, I apologize that it’s taken me so long to write this, to contact you personally. As a teacher who truly loves her students, Andrew will always be in my heart. You and your family will always be in my prayers.  Best wishes.

With great care and comfort, 

Susie 

 

Birth Month - Day 27

If you've ever had the pleasure of spending the night with Andrew, chances are you saw him sleepwalking.  Andrew was a sleepwalker for as far back as I can remember.  When he was around 5 he would sleeprun - screaming that Matt was after him and he needed to hide.  That also happened occasionally when he was awake.  He would also say amusing things that made no sense like, "What about the horses?".  Other times he would pick at stains on the carpet thinking they were pieces of paper or something that needed to be thrown away.

Three of my most memorable sleepwalking stories of Andrew are:

1) Matt had some friends over, specifically to watch Andrew sleepwalk.  They even armed themselves with weapons in case Andrew tried to attack them - of course an attack never happened, but the boys had a good laugh.

2) Andrew ran outside and when Matt went to retrieve him, Andrew took off down the street.  I had to coax him back inside.  No idea what made him run outside.  Matt can actually tell those two stories better.

3) One night, after everyone had gone to bed, Andrew bolted down the stairs and out the front door.  The pounding down the stairs woke me and when I heard the door opened I realized it was Andrew sleepwalking.  By the time I got to the door, he was nowhere in sight.  I grabbed my shoes and started walking the block.  I found him down the street.  He was completely groggy but I convinced him to walk back home.  When I got him home I realized his feet were a little bloody from running through the yard and stepping on the sweet gum balls.  I patched him up and put him back to bed.  The next morning he had no recollection of the events but knew his feet hurt.

That was typical for Andrew's sleepwalking - he never remembered any of it and you could often get him talking about the wildest things.  It was fun most of the time, but also scary when he ran out the door.  Doctors never could tell me specifically what caused it, but always said he would likely outgrow it.  He never did.

Birth Month - Day 26

Without question Lacrosse was Andrew's favorite sport to play (that didn't involve a controller).  He only joined the high school team his junior year and while he was no superstar his enthusiasm was contagious.  He came home from practices sweaty, stinky, and tired, but still excited about lacrosse.  He met some great friends, mentors, and coaches while playing.  I was able to make every game of his career - even the ones two hours away thanks to traffic.  Natalia was also there, cheering him on, and of course was his plus one to the banquet, pictures below.  Believe it or not, Andrew was excited about the banquet and actually wanted to dress up.  This was a rare occasion since it meant he would not be able to wear the lacrosse style shorts he so loved.  I miss his handsome face so much!

Birth Month - Day 25

Today is my mom's 71st birthday.  She used to joke that I gave her Matt for Christmas (he was born December 20, 1990) and Andrew for her 50th birthday.  I wish that I had more pictures of my mom and Andrew together, but she was usually the one taking all the pictures so she is not in very many of them.

Andrew and my mom, "Nana", had a special relationship.  He always wanted to go to her house because she had a pool, a lake, and playground in her subdivision.  She also let him play in the flower beds and he even pooped in them like a dog, because he was too busy to come inside.  He'd spend hours at her house on the computer playing games and they also baked a lot of cookies together - probably where he learned to bake them with love. And although he was only 12 at the time, Andrew spent many hours at her bedside when she entered hospice, even spending the night with me there.

So Happy Birthday to my mom and Happy Birth week to her and Andrew!  I'm glad they have each other again!