The Evaluation Process

For many months now, my Mom and Dad would head to Rochester for various tests and appointments for my Dad. Often they would be over there for 2-3 days at a time, staying in Rochester instead of driving back and forth. They would tell us about all the different appointments on different floors or different buildings - like the one blood test that couldn't be done in the same place as the other blood test he just finished - the spots they would find to sit in between appointments and listen to someone play piano, or send us pictures of the different restaurants they would eat at. 

It always sounded like a lot and a bit of a nuisance. But I truly had no idea until I was in the exact same situation myself. But I'm getting ahead of myself... let's back up.

The first step to becoming a living donor is to fill out the living donor form. Simple enough. Answer some questions about myself, my health, medical history. There are very specific requirements to even be considered as a donor. You must be between the ages of 18 and 60, your BMI must be under 30, you must be in good health, you must have good/stable mental health. In addition to that, there are other things to consider such as do you have the capability to take a month or longer off from work? Would you need financial assistance for lost wages? Do you have someone to be available as a caretaker after the surgery and during your recovery? 

Once I passed that step, I had a phone call interview with a Nurse Coordinator from Mayo. They explained more about what a living donation looks like as a potential donor and asked some more questions. I learned a few more things like that this surgery would take 3-4 hours, I would spend one night in the ICU then a few more days in the hospital before getting discharged. Then I would need to stay in Rochester for a couple more days for a few more follow up appointments. Those follow up appointments would continue over the next two years to make sure my liver was still functioning properly. I wouldn't be able to drive for a while and I would have a lifting restriction for up to 8 weeks. When none of this scared me away, I was told I qualified for the next step which would be to come in for a variety of tests and appointments. 

At this point, I waited to give my sister and brother a chance to get through the application and phone interview process as well. We had decided that even if we all qualify for the actual tests, only one of us would go through that process at a time to see if we were a match. So if I went through the process and wasn't a match, then Meg would do the tests. 

We got the appointments and tests scheduled and I was told I'll be in Rochester for three days. Over those three days I would have a lot of different tests to make sure I was healthy, had no underlying conditions and see if I could be a match. Being a match meant more than just having the same blood type and being healthy. A donor often needs to be of similar size of the recipient so that the liver volume will be close to the same. This looks at not only the overall liver size, but also the size of the vessels and such. This is often why people aren't able to match - the livers aren't close enough in size and volume. 

Here's an interesting fact. A person can donate up to 69.9% of their liver to someone. During a liver donation, they will either take the right lobe or the left lobe. So if one lobe makes up 73% of the total liver mass, then that person can't donate because it's above that 69%. 

Soon my Mayo patient portal was filled with messages and appointments. I also received my appointment package in the mail - which was *several* pages long. It detailed each of my appointments - where, when and with who - and also told me what I needed to do to prepare for each test or appointment. I'm not going to lie... it was a bit overwhelming! I definitely set reminders in my phone like "no more food" or "stop drinking anything". 

Meg and I had talked and decided that she would come with me to most of the appointments. If I was a match, Meg would most likely be my caretaker, while my Mom would take care of my Dad. My Mom also mentioned how nice it was to have someone else at the appointments because they throw a lot of information at you and it's good to have a second set of ears. And this was 100% true. Meg was my note-taker and I was grateful to have those notes to go back and review after leaving Rochester.

So, what did I do while in Rochester? Well, let me tell you. I had appointments to meet with a Nurse Coordinator, a living donor advocate and a social worker. I had an appointment with a doctor for a general check in, along with the surgeon. I had to do a urine and blood test. The blood test included a total of 26 vials of blood. I learned that this did not beat my dad's overall record of number of vials drawn at once. :) One of the blood tests had to be done by a different technician and in in a different room. So I had one blood draw for 25 vials and then I had to walk across the room to another station and get poked again for one more vial. Super fun. I had an x-ray and an MRI. The MRI took over an hour; I was told it was one of their longest imaging sessions. Also super fun. I also had a CT scan, an ECHO test and an ECG test. 

Now I had a better understanding of what my Dad has to do every time he visits Rochester. It is a lot. 

One thing about Mayo is that they're really great about putting your test results into your patient portal. This can be both good and bad. But it was definitely interesting to see the results of everything. I also learned a few things!

1. I still have the antibodies in my body from when I had mono as a junior in high school. 
2. I have gallstones. Which apparently a lot of people do and they might never cause me any problems or they might cause some really intense pain down the road. However, if I end up donating my right lobe, they would remove my gallbladder as well, thus saving me from potential pain and suffering. 
3. I also learned I have a trifurcation of my main portal vein going into my liver. Most people's vein will split into two - one for each lobe. However, my vein splits into three going into the liver. This doesn't mean anything is wrong or would cause me from not donating, just a unique aspect of my liver. 

I also had one last visit with the Doctor before leaving town who told me that as a potential liver donor, I'm "as good as they get". I was healthy with no underlying conditions. The only thing they were still waiting on was the volume and mass of my liver to see how it compared to my dad's. So I left Rochester knowing that I was a potential match and once those last tests came back, if they were good, I would be recommended to the committee to be a donor. 

The following week, I got the official phone call that I was a match for my dad. 

Then it was time for making an actual decision. Up until this point, I had been very deliberate about not getting ahead of myself and not thinking about what being a donor would actually look like and mean until I knew I was a match.

What goes into make that type of decision? A lot. But we'll talk about that a little bit later. 

 

The 2025 Curveball

When 2025 started, I told myself I was going to do the things that bring me joy and say no to the things that don't. That was my mantra. As we are about to enter my birthday month, I've looked back over the past nine months and I am happy with what I've done so far. But we'll talk more about that in another post. 

2025 also decided to throw in a curveball, because why not? At this point, I'm thinking it's a requirement every year since 2020... 

Anyway... earlier this year, we found out my Dad needs a new liver. While we knew this was maybe something that would happen, everything kind of happened rather quickly once the cards started falling. In June, he was officially added to the liver transplant list. 

We quickly learned that this "transplant world" was filled with things we didn't know. I mean, why would you need to know how your liver affects your oxygen levels unless it's causing a problem for you? 

The good news is that my Dad is pretty stable. He's still able to do most everything he's always done. But he gets tired a lot more quickly. Plus some other fun things he gets to deal with that are all symptoms of liver disease but that you would never suspect would be related to liver disease. 

When he was added to "the list" (which is not actually a list!), he was approved for both a deceased donor, which would be a full liver transplant, or a living donor, which would be a partial liver donation. 

My parents brought home a packet of information from Rochester on living donors. My siblings and I all read through it. There was a very strict list of requirements. No one over the age of 60, you must have a BMI under 30, you must not have any other underlying health problems, etc. We all decided we were going to apply and see if we were a match for our dad. 

When it came time for one of us to move forward in the process to the actual evaluation process, I used my oldest sibling authority and told my siblings I would get tested first. At least, I can pretend that I still have that oldest sibling authority. :) 

In early September, I spent three days in Rochester getting tested. I have a much better understanding of what my dad has to do every time they go to Rochester for all of his tests. It was a lot. (more on that later too) But about a week after that, I found out that I was a match. 

Then came time for the actual decision. And let me tell you, it was a big decision. We spent time talking as a family, I spent time talking to Jacob, along with his therapist, I spent time talking to my own therapist. 

I decided I wanted to do it - I wanted to donate part of my liver to my dad. 

Then I had to get my dad to agree. 

And I get it, right? If this was Jacob who wanted to do something this big for me, I would have a really hard time accepting that. So we spent more time talking and thinking and praying. My parents did more research on living donations and what my recovery would look like. 

Finally, my dad said yes. And so we've scheduled the surgery for November 20th. There is a lot that needs to be figured out before then, so I'm thankful we have the time. But a lot could change during that time too and my dad could get too sick and we would have to cancel the surgery. 

I tend to process things better when I write, so my therapist suggested I think about journaling through this entire process and maybe sharing the journey with all of you. So with my dad's blessing, let's give it a shot. 

So while a partial liver donation was not on the bucket list of things to do in the year I turn 40, here we are. It's going to be an adventure for sure! 

In the meantime, your prayers are most welcome.  

World Suicide Prevention Day: Love is...

I have no idea how to start this blog post. I have no idea what I want to say. Yet it feels like something needs to be said.

September 10th is World Suicide Prevention Day. A day that I will never not recognize for the rest of my life. Losing someone to suicide was one of the worst possible kinds of grief I've ever experienced. One that I wish no one ever had to experience. 

So I guess on this day, I want to say that you are loved. No matter who you are, what you're doing, how you're feeling - you are loved. You are wanted. You are worthy of life. The world is a better place with you in it. The world needs you in it. Please just stay. If you need to talk, I'm here to listen. If you need to just sit with someone, I can be that someone. Just please know how much you are truly loved. 

Five years ago, I wrote this blog post about a song that was commissioned in Austin's memory by his high school class. And for the past five years, I've wanted more for this song. I've wanted to honor Austin's memory in a way that showed his incredible impact on others. 

This past year, I finally saw that happen. The amazing Wartburg Choir under the direction of Dr. Lee Nelson learned 'Love is...' and performed it at their Spring concert and tour. 

I mentioned in the other blog post about how the process of getting the song created was part of a healing process for myself and for Austin's family. Something we didn't know we needed. I had a very similar experience during this process. 

Incredibly, Dr. Nelson sent me an email on Sunday, February 23rd, letting me know that the Wartburg Choir has learned 'Love is...' and were loving it. They wanted to connect with me to learn more about Austin and why this song was created. For those of you that don't know, February 23, 2018 is when Austin passed. To get this email from Dr. Nelson on this day truly felt like a gift from heaven. Or to use a phrase from Dr. Nelson, a "God wink". 

Shortly after, we set up a Zoom meeting with myself, Connor Koppin (the composer) and the Wartburg Choir. Before the meeting, I wanted to try and find some of the things Austin's past students had said about him, to share that with the choir - how important his teaching was. I have a box of things from when Austin passed and so I opened it up for the first time in probably as many years. 

My emotions were all over the place going through that box. We had asked people to send us letters and memories of Austin so that Jacob can read them one day when he was older. But I think I forgot about the amount we did received. I had been saving all these memories for when Jacob was older but seeing them all, I realized that I have all of these memories about AJ right at my fingertips for the days when I struggle to remember him before his illness took over. It was a gift, I realized. (Maybe more on this another time)

Back to the Zoom meeting, I shared memories of AJ. How we met, how much the choir meant to him. And as I talked, I remembered stories that I had not thought about for a really long time. Like when I talked about how he proposed on our international choir tour, I remember how he had asked for an extra key card from the hotel to help hide the bulge from the ring box in his pocket. Or that the night before, he took the ring out of the box, filled the bathroom sink with water and checked to see if the box would float. You see, he proposed while on a gondola ride in Venice Italy and he did not want to accidentally lose the ring over the side of the boat! It's so easy to forget these little things that highlight who AJ was as a person. And so it's so much of a gift to be reminded of them. 

It was also really great to hear from Connor and what creating the piece meant to him. What I hadn't known before this was that Connor actually met AJ. While AJ was teaching at Riverside, the Wartburg Choir came and did a workshop with them. Connor mentioned that he can remember the passion and energy that AJ had while teaching those students. Knowing that Connor knew AJ as a person made me appreciate his composition for the song so much more. 

During the call, the choir sang the song for Connor and I. This was the first time I was truly hearing the song as it was meant to be heard. And I can't tell you how much that filled my heart in that moment. I couldn't wait for others, especially AJ's family, to be able to finally hear the song. 

In another "God wink", the Choir was doing their tour run out the weekend right after AJ's birthday. (The tour run out is where the choir will travel to a few different areas close by and perform the concert as sort of a run-though before the actual tour happens.) The first concert took place in Mount Vernon, where the Mount Vernon High School Choir also performed. Their current director was also AJ's high school director in Tipton. The second concert was in Des Moines where we were able to gather as a family to celebrate AJ's birthday and attend the concert together. 

Both concerts were just an incredible experience. If you've ever been to a Wartburg Choir performance, I don't need to tell you that they knocked it out of the park.

I also believe that the timing of all of this was exactly how it needed to be. I personally am in a much different place in my own grieving process than I was five years ago. I have worked on processing a lot of my feelings and have worked to find myself in a better place. And a lot of this process brought up so many memories of AJ and so many emotions. But instead of being painful, like they absolutely would have before, they were a comfort to me. It was like a warm blanket surrounding me. 

It was so meaningful to finally have this song heard by others. But it was also meaningful because before the song, Dr. Nelson talked about Austin and what this piece means. And it was also an opportunity for us to share the message "You are loved and wanted here." to anyone who needed to hear it. And that is truly what meant the most out of everything. That maybe someone who is struggling would hear this song and realize that they are loved, they are wanted. They would decide to stay. And I am so grateful for that. 

Ultimately, that's what this is all about. To honor AJ's memory and maybe changing the life of someone else; maybe saving the life of someone else. AJ was an amazing teacher and made a meaningful impact on the lives of those he taught. My hope is that this song is a way for him to continue to have an impact on people's lives. 

Please enjoy this self-recorded video of the Wartburg Choir performing 'Love is...' under the direction of Dr. Lee Nelson at the St. Ambrose Cathedral in Des Moines, Iowa. And know that you are important. You are loved. You are worthy. You are wanted. "Let this love blind your shadows."

P.S. I just received news from Dr. Nelson today that 'Love is...' has been published by ECS Publishing. Inside the front cover is a program note from Connor and myself. And a reminder for those struggling that there is a place for them here. How's that for another "God wink" on World Suicide Prevention Day? 

Hello 2025

Going into 2025, I didn't pick a word of the year. I didn't make any resolutions or set any goals. 

There are some things I want to try and do more of though: write more, dance it out (a la Christina Yang), walk more, craft more, be grateful more, walk through the world with more confidence. 

But if I don't do these things, well, that's okay too. I'm not going to beat myself up about it. 

I'm going to say yes to the things that bring me joy and no to the things that don't. I'm going to stand up for myself and not deal with any bullshit. I'm going to rest when I want to rest and go out when I want to go out. I'm going to occasionally spoil myself and likely spoil Jacob more. I'm going to lean into my authentic self and let her be the one in charge. I'm going to do what I want and not care what anyone else thinks. 

This year (2025) I turn 40. And I am welcoming it with open arms. I'm ready to live my life true and fully as myself. Zero f*cks to give (I hope). 

My 30's were chaotic. They were stressful and busy and hard. And yes, there were absolutely some amazing times in there as well. But now I'm ready for a calmer decade. One where I'm just going to live my life the best that I can and let everyone else do whatever they're going to do. (ref. Let Them theory)

I'm looking forward to this year. To this next decade. I'm looking forward to seeing the person I grow into. 

Happy 10th Birthday, Jacob!

Jacob! You're 10! TEN!! One. Zero. Double Digits! I can't believe it. 

10 years ago you came into this world and we instantly fell in love with you. A whole decade of loving you and watching your grow into this amazing person you are today! Wow. 

I'm sure I write this every year, but I continue to be amazed by you and who you are. You are an incredible boy and I am so lucky to get to be your mom. Every single day, I am reminded why you are my most favorite person.

You had an incredible year at school, completely rocking 3rd grade! As much as you say you don't like school, you continue to excel. Mr. Malay was your teacher and in your card to him at the end of the year, you wrote "You were one of the greatest teachers I've ever had!" I couldn't agree more. In fact, I wrote Mr. Malay a separate note myself to let him know how much I appreciated the fact that he was your teacher. Mr. Malay's personality and teaching style reminds me so much of your dad. And I am so grateful that you were able to experience having a teacher like that. Watching you interact with Mr. Malay, I can imagine what it might have been like if you ever would have had your dad as a teacher. 

You also have a strong group of friends. The nice thing about Jefferson is that it's a very small school, just two classes per grade. And you have the type of personality that can become friends with everyone. And you do. In fact, you invited 9 kids to your birthday party this year! And six of them were able to make it! That was a crazy time (mostly for me)! It's so fun to watch you with your friends and when you meet new kids as well. And it makes me so happy to see how kind you are to everyone.

You are still an amazing reader and I love that you love books, even when you don't admit it. But recently, you discovered the 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid' series and you have devoured the books. I just love to see it. :) You are also still obsessed with wanting to be the one in charge, the boss, the CEO. You love to talk about business organizational structures - boards, shareholders, founders, manager, etc. You have your own company, Jacob, Inc. which is very successful. :) You still love space but you have also become very interested in nations. You know where nations are on the map, you can identify flags. You watch videos on YouTube that show you lists of countries by size, GDP, population, military size, etc. You know the craziest things. You also enjoy watching YouTube videos where you watch other people play video games. I'm not sure I understand it, but you love it. And of course you love to play videos games. And sometimes, pretend you're creating your own YouTube video. Your newest game is Ages of Conflict (I think?), which is a war simulator where the countries fight to conquer each other. You also still love playing TABS, Roblox, Minecraft and different Mario games on the switch. 

You are also a very good thespian and you add a dramatic flair to almost everything you do - which is extremely funny when you're in a good mood but not all that fun if you're in a bad mood! ;-) You are still witty as ever, quick thinking, goofy and funny. You are so much like your dad in that sense. You love being the center of attention as long as it's on your own terms and not so much if you're being forced to like a church performance or school music performance. You have this thing where you are against music - not wanting to like music or learn how to sing. Probably because you've grown up hearing how musical your dad was and I am. And so, probably to spite me, you dig your heels into the ground when it comes to anything musical. :) Whenever we have people over for dinner, you are always the last one to finish eating because you talk so much and want to drive the conversation. 

As much as you pretend to love all things bad and claim you want to be ruler of the world, you are a very kind boy. You are so good, so intuitive to those around you, so empathetic, so loving. Even now, you love to cuddle. And I LOVE that you will still cuddle with me. You don't like to see other people hurt and you either want to help fix it or you try to make people feel better by getting them to laugh. I am so proud of the person you are, Jacob. 

I love the person you are. I love listening to everything you have to say and I love learning new things that you teach me. I love watching you grow and learn and discover who you are and where you fit in in this world. I love watching your personality grow, even when you're butting heads with me and we both get frustrated. I still love to watch you sleep, no matter how creepy you think that might be. In fact, I just love watching you do whatever it is you're doing! You truly are the very best thing I've ever done. And I love you more than words could ever describe. 

As you enter your double digits, I wish I could say that I hope for only good things for you. And while I do very much hope for many good things for you, I know that life is not only full of good things. And unfortunately, you already know that too. But it is the combination of the good things in our lives and the bad, the hard, the struggles, that help make us into the people we are. And so I hope that you are able to take everything that happens in your life and let it make you into an incredible, wonderful human. 

I hope that your 10th year here on Earth is filled with love, family, happiness, friends, memories, laughs and whatever else you hope for. I am so excited to be with you every step of the way and continue to watch you as you learn new things and continue to grow. I love you.

Happy Birthday, Jacob! 

Bittersweet Symphony

Today is one of those bittersweet days. Today is Wartburg College's annual day of giving UKnight Day. It's a day to give back to a place that is so important for many people. A day to reflect about why Wartburg is such a special place for people. 

Since AJ passed five years ago, I've used UKnight Day to give back to the place that brought us together in his memory. UKnight Day always falls right around AJ's birthday, so each year I give the amount of how old AJ should be turning that year. It's bittersweet. 

AJ and I met at Wartburg. We both sang in the Warburg Choir. It was on a choir tour trip to Prague where we first got to know each other but nine months later before we started dating, shortly after some choir bonding. We got engaged in Venice while on another choir tour trip. Music was the thing that connected AJ and I. 

AJ was studying to become a music teacher. Music was his passion. Teaching was his passion. And he was so damn good at it. He just had that spark that drew people close to him. We often joked that he was so good at teaching to kids because really he was just a "big kid" himself. But he found ways to connect with his students. He made them fall in love with music the way he once had. I 100% believe that AJ's purpose in life was to teach music. 

So when the mental health struggles, the addiction and eventually the decision to end his own life happened, a part of what I mourned was the lost of AJ's purpose. I mourned the lost of his potential. Because AJ had it. He had what one needed to become great. And he would have been - he would have been so great. He would have done so much. I was always able to see more about AJ's future career path than even my own. And so I mourn for the career AJ should have had. Even during his short time teaching, he touched so many lives. I mourn for the lives that he should have touched, the lives he should have changed. 

I follow the Wartburg College Choirs Facebook page. I like staying connected to this amazing group that brought me to AJ. I love to see the new adventures they get to embark on, while fondly remembering my own choir adventures. But sometimes, seeing certain posts also makes me feel resentful. I see posts celebrating collaboration between the Wartburg Choir and various high school choirs from around the state of Iowa and I can't help but think, AJ should be here doing that. He should be bringing kids to visit Wartburg, to hear the Wartburg Choir, to learn from them. It makes me think about all the amazing things that AJ should have gotten to do during his music career but now will never do. 

When AJ died, former members of the Wartburg Choir came to his funeral service and sang. They sang Amazing Grace and Give Me Jesus. I will never be able to fully articulate just how much that moment meant for me and what I felt during those songs. It was bittersweet. 

After AJ died, his high school classmates raised money to commission a choral musical piece in AJ's memory. The song is called Love Is. The words were written by Brian Newhouse and the music was composed by Connor Koppin. Click here if you want to read a blog post about the piece specifically. 

I am so grateful for this gift because I thought there was no better way to remember AJ than with the gift of music. 

Sometimes I struggle when I think about AJ's legacy. How do I make sure to honor his memory in a way that's worthwhile? How do I help people remember the bright soul and passion AJ had for music and for teaching? How can I help inspire that type of passion in others? How can I share AJ's story to others who are struggling and help them realize that they are loved and they are wanted? 

Selfishly, I want this song to be AJ's legacy. I want this song to reach choirs and audiences across the country, maybe even the world. I want AJ's story inside the front cover as reminder to those who are also struggling that they are loved and ask them to stay. I want it to be a piece that touches the lives of those who hear it. I want it to be a piece that is applauded and recognized for the message it sends to those who are hurting. I want to believe that even after his death, AJ will have an impact in this world. But I have no idea how to make something like that happen. 

So on this UKnight Day, I will hold up my alma mater as this incredibly special place that I still call home. I will remember the lessons I learned, the adventures I took part of and my infinite love of the color orange. I will recognize how this place helped shape me into the person I am today. I will forever treasure the people that I met at Wartburg, some of my most favorite people in this world. And I will be forever grateful for Wartburg and the music that brought AJ and I together. 

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, that's life. 

The Burden of Questions

Trigger Warning: Suicide 

During Lent, our pastor is doing a sermon series around the theme of "Ask". This week's gospel came from John 9:1-41. Jesus heals the sight of a blind man and the reading is filled with a variety of questions and people wanting answers.

Tonight's reflection got me thinking about the burden of questions. 

I am no stranger to questions. I'm very familiar with questions. In fact, I think I've become even more familiar with questions since Jacob was old enough to talk. Because since he was old enough to talk, he's been asking questions. Questions about everything, non-stop questioning, questions that I definitely don't have the answers for. In truth, there is something amazing about the innocence of a child asking questions. 

But aside from Jacob, I often find that I have my own questions. I'll let you in on a little secret... I'm a bit* of an overthinker. (*I will not be defining 'bit') :) When I start to overthink things, I start to question things. I will question everything. 

Was it the right choice to buy a new car right now? Why does my back hurt today? Why did I not wear my winter boots today? Should I pull my money from the banks before they all fail? What should I say to Jacob if he asks me about where babies come from? How did my life end up in the place it is now? Why are people so cruel and hateful? Should I volunteer to chaperone Jacob's class field trip? What would happen if push this project back until tomorrow? How on earth can people possibly vote republican? ;-) You get the idea. 

Questioning so many things becomes exhausting. And because I like to have a certain amount of control over my life, I really appreciate questions where I also get the answers. Even better when they're the answers that I want! 

But life is full of questions and not often any definite answers. And I struggle with that. 

A blog post from six years ago showed up in my Facebook memories today. The Struggles of Addiction in the Family

It's an interesting thing to go back and read old blog posts. But reading this one hit me in an entirely different way. In it, I talked about feelings of wanting to give up. Now, when I read it, I know that it was less than one year from that post that Austin did decide to give up. And there has been no other event in my life that has created so many questions. 

When someone you love dies by suicide, you are left with so many questions. I'm not sure if it makes a difference if that someone leaves a note behind or not. In Austin's case, he left no note, no email, no voicemail. I felt lost in the questions. I struggled with questions I thought I had always known the answers to. 

Why did he give up? What was going on in his mind at that moment? Was there something that happened that made him do this? Was he using? Was he in trouble? What was the amount of pain he must have been feeling? Was he thinking about me and Jacob? Did he think about how his action would affect Jacob and I? Did he think we stopped loving him? Did he know I still loved him? Did he know how many people loved him? Did he understand how much we would miss him? Why did he think it was okay to end his life? Why didn't he ask anyone for help? Why didn't he leave us a note? Why did he leave us? 

The hardest part of these questions is that I will never have an answer. I will never have any sort of answer to the endless questions I have. That leaves a hole inside of you that I don't know how to explain. It makes my grief feel impossible at times. It feels like I will never find true closure. 

But it gets even worse. Because beside my own questions, there are Jacob's questions. Jacob's questions about his dad and why his dad isn't around anymore. And has he gets older, there will only be more questions. 

I am often left questioning how I'm going to answer all of Jacob's questions. I am struggling with the question, "How am I going to tell Jacob about his dad's death?" When is the right time to have that conversation? When is he old enough to understand what suicide means? How much information do I give him? Do I wait for him to ask me questions? Or do I bring it up before he overhears someone talking about it? What do you say to a kid who's dad decided to leave? How do I help him understand the complexity of a situation when I don't even understand it? What are the words I should use? 

I have literally struggled with these questions since Austin's death. I dread the moment the conversation will finally come. And it's coming. It's getting close. I do not feel prepared. I do not know the right way to have this conversation. And I am terrified that I will handle the entire conversation badly and screw up Jacob. If I'm being honest, it's in these moments that I feel my strongest anger towards Austin. For leaving me to deal with this crap. 

I know that for many of life's questions, there is the opportunity to have faith. Faith in God, faith in His plan, faith for His comfort and His love. And most of the time, that is enough. 

But sometimes, like in the case of Austin's suicide, I struggle with faith being enough. There is a heavy burden of questions that I carry about Austin's death. Endless questions. And never an answer.