Petting the Polar Bear

Sorry for the Delay!

2011-08-28T15:34:00.000-05:00

It's been a good long time since I've taken a moment to share my thoughts. Much has happened since last August, but let it suffice to say that our family continues to brave new experiences together as life and love roll merrily along. Nathan is now on his mission in Brazil, and he will return home in less than a year. We shipped Spencer off to school at BYU last week, and he will start classes tomorrow. That leaves our dear, not-so-little, Lindsey to rule to roost all by her lonesome this year, and starting high school isn't a bad time for her to spread her wings and take over some additional real estate at home. This house seems very empty these days, but I'm sure we'll get used to it; God has a way of helping each one of us adapt to new circumstances in life.

Tina's Dream

2010-08-05T18:07:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, Tina shared a dream she had dreamed about Peter. In the dream, Peter appeared very much like he did before he became ill, and he was sitting on my lap being very snugly (I liked that part!). She came over to us and began telling him how much we missed him each day and how hard it was not having him around all of the time. He looked up at his mom with a smile and said with a hint of exasperation, "What do you mean? I'm here ALL THE TIME. You guys just can't see me!" It's those kinds of dreams that make each of us smile; sure we miss Peter and we wish we could talk with him and hear him laugh, but we know that he is with us in some way every day.

"Winds-In-His-Hair" Therapy

2010-05-04T22:03:00.001-05:00

Several weeks ago, I found myself driving toward Greenville, TX on I-30 coming home from a very productive day of making sales calls along roads less traveled. My little silver convertible sported a brand new set of tires, the top was down, the sun was shining, and I the stereo belted out the tunes from one of my "Top Hits" music compilations courtesy of our digital music age. All seemed right with the world, and then I heard the first chords of Cold Play's "Speed of Sound" begin echoing in my once tranquil brain. This is the song playing in the background of Peter's YouTube video when we went skiing in Montana, and its lyrics are nothing less than haunting to me. Like mental whiplash, I went from singing at the top of lungs to tears welling up in my eyes in less than thirty seconds, and I found myself experiencing once again the heartache and sadness I felt when Peter passed away. Grief bursts like these happen every once in a while, but driving down the freeway is not the opportune moment to let my emotions get the best of me, so I began searching for a way to work through the emotion without stuffing it down and pretending it didn't exist. Suddenly, I remembered a scene from the movie "Dances With Wolves" where, toward the end of the film, Kevin Costner's character is saying goodbye to the tribe he has grown to love, but he can't find his close friend Winds-In-His-Hair anywhere. I remembered thinking how sad it would be to not be able to say goodbye to a man who saved my life or who showed me a new way to look at the world. Right as Dances-With-Wolves is riding out of camp with his wife, Winds-In-His-Hair appears suddenly on the cliff overlooking the camp astride his horse with his spear raised to the heavens. He boldly and emotionally cries out to his friend in a voice that echoes along every canyon wall, "DANCES-WITH-WOLVES! CAN YOU SEE ME? I AM WINDS-IN-HIS-HAIR! CAN YOU SEE THAT I AM AND ALWAYS WILL BE YOUR FRIEND! DANCES-WITH-WOLVES! I WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR FRIEND!" The raw emotion of that scene always stayed with me, and I remembered thinking how great it would be to live in a culture where a man could show his grief and heartache with such power and feeling and not be ashamed. Well, here I was, barreling down the freeway doing about eighty with semi-trucks ahead of me and beside me, and I thought to myself, now is the perfect time to shout out my feelings to Peter. With the song still ringing in my ears and my son's sweet face fresh in my mind, I cried out as loud as I could, "PETER! CAN YOU SEE ME? CAN YOU SEE THAT I LOVE YOU SON! CAN YOU SEE THAT I MISS YOU EVERY DAY! CAN YOU SEE HOW MUCH YOUR FAMILY MISSES YOU!" I yelled until I couldn't yell any more, and you know what? Winds-In-His-Hair had it figured out. I imagine that man never suffered from ulcers, stress headaches or high blood pressure because I felt 1000-times better after my "therapy" session. Everyone needs an outlet for their emotions, and I'm glad that I found mine on that sunny day in April while driving down the freeway.

Pete's Apple Tree

2010-03-24T22:27:00.000-05:00

I walked out in the back yard today, and Peter's apple tree is completely blooming! Upon closer examination, I saw three to five busy little bees greedily buzzing from blossom to blossom preparing our tree for a nice harvest later this year. It's cool to see the little memorial doing so well; even the live oaks we planted along Gillespie outside of our fence are getting ready to burst with spring color, although they need a little string action to straighten their crooked ways. Beauty is a great way to remember Peter, and we see plenty of it this time of year.

Oklahoma City National Memorial

2010-03-21T16:26:00.001-05:00

Last Thursday, March 11th, I needed to travel to Oklahoma City for business, and it marked the first time I'd traveled to OKC for almost five years. My appointment was set to conclude at 4 p.m., but due to cutbacks in flights between OKC and Dallas, my return flight would not take off until 7:30 p.m. I decided that as soon as my business concluded, I would take a walk from the Oklahoma County Administration Building to the Oklahoma City National Memorial which was only a few blocks to the north. I had visited this memeorial several years earlier, and I found it very moving even before I had experienced the grief of losing Tina's father or Peter. In my heart, I thought that this would be an appropriate place to reflect on the anniversary of Peter's passing.

The streets were fairly deserted at that hour with rush hour only an hour away, so my walk up Harvey Avenue to the memorial felt peaceful and brisk; it had rained earlier in the day, and the clouds still blocked the majority of the sun's direct rays. When I arrived at the western end of the city block that makes up the memorial, I found the entrance through one of the Gates of Time blocked by maintenance signs, but I was allowed to enter the memorial through the northern entrance close to the museum. I strolled along a well-groomed path past the still-dormant trees of the Rescuer's Orchard toward the Reflecting Pool and slowly walked eastward toward the other Gate of Time at the monument's eastern border. The Gates of Time are meant to capture forever the two minutes between 9:01 a.m. and 9:03 a.m. of April 19th with the times engraven at the tops of each gate. 9:01 represents the end of the city's innocence, or the time before the attack, while 9:03 marks the beginning of the city's healing. Everything withing the two gates symbolizes what took place on that grim day and the people who lost their lives when the Murrah Building became the target of domestic terrorism. Overlooking the Reflecting Pool on a prominent point in the park stands a raised circular gathering area that surrounds the Survivor Tree, an American Elm that stood in the middle of a parking lot across the street from the Murrah Building before the bombing took place and miraculously survived the blast. A group of high school students were singing and playing musical selections on their band instruments when I arrived, and their music gave my visit a very enjoyable atmosphere as I continued my stroll around the Reflecting Pool to face the Field of Empty Chairs. The chairs occupy a grassy area where the Murrah Building once stood, and each of the 168 chairs represents one of the victims of the attack as well as their location within the building when the attack occurred. I couldn't help but notice that along the second row, most of the chairs were child-sized; the day-care facility for the Murrah Building resided on the second floor, and nineteen little chairs stand as sad reminders that even small children can become victims of senseless violence. At night, the bases of the chairs glow brightly so that all 168 chairs become beacons of hope. I spoke briefly to one of the park rangers before moving once again to the northern side of the reflecting pool. It was nearing 4:30, and I decided that I would stay until 4:38, the time of Peter's passing, yet I didn't want to be among inquisitive eyes when that moment arrived in case my emotions began to surface. I eventually made my way to the southern end of the memorial where the Murrah Building's plaza still stood very much like it had when people walked past its concrete planters and benches en route to the building's entrance. A low glass wall now stands in place of the Murrah Building's entrance, overlooking the Field of Empty Chairs, the Refelecting Pool, the Gates of Time, the Survivor Tree and the remainder of the memorial. I thought about my brave little man and his empty bed at home, his blossoming apple tree in the back yard, and the gaping hole he left in my heart two years ago. As expected, my tears came and went, and after drying my eyes and talking to Tina on the phone, I pulled my suit coat a little closer around me and walked back down Harvey Avenue toward a downtown parking garage and from there drove to the airport for my flight home.

A Few Things I've Learned

2010-03-11T08:02:00.000-06:00

The Holy Ghost is called "The Comforter" for a reason
Just because I've experienced tragedy in my life doesn't mean I'm exempt from other trials
There's a big difference between crying and weeping
Families can pull immeasurably closer after experiencing a member's death
Asking for help is not a sign of weakness but rather of humility
Memories are more than a sum total of photos and videos
I need to continue to look for positive expressions of my negative emotions
Christ knows and understands what we've been through as a family
God answers prayers in remarkably cool ways
Peter checks up on us occasionally

Taking a Different Approach This Year

2010-03-07T21:25:00.000-06:00

Many people have asked if we will be doing anything special to commemorate the 2nd anniversary of Peter's passing this week. To be honest, we really haven't planned anything other than our own personal reflection when the 11th arrives. For Peter's birthday, we celebrated as a family by having his favorite dinner (tacos), played his favorite game (Pokemon Master Trainer) and ate angel food cake for dessert. Tina and I will more than likely take time this weekend to visit the cemetary this weekend, but other than that, we do not think that we will extend our observance of this anniversary to anything more than that. Peter continues to be a part of each day of my life, and reminders of him live all around me in our home, church and neighborhood. The memories bring less and less pain, however, and when I reflect on Peter, I spend more time thanking God that he was a part of my life for as long as he was rather than sinking into sadness. Life is good, and I am grateful for the many blessings I receive every day. I have a beautiful wife, three wonderful children who are still with me in this life, I have a great job, and God is helping us heal every day.

Upcoming Study

2010-02-19T22:04:00.000-06:00

Tina and I were approached last month by a representative of the Marc Apodeca Jr. Children's Glioma CancerFoundation to participate in a study. The study is a joint venture between the foundation and Brigham Young University to examine the effects of a DIPG on the family as a whole, and Tina and I readily agreed to participate. Phase I involves filling out a detailed intake sheet which will be followed by several lengthy interviews and ultimately sharing anything the facilitators believe will gauge how Peter's illness and death impacted us. We plan on spending some time this weekend going over the intake sheet, and I'm sure that we will be referring frequently to the journal we kept so religiously over the course of his illness as well as in the aftermath of his death. Exploring the feelings associated with the Peter's death took a great deal of "heavy lifting", yet together we did it time and time again; I don't anticipate that reviewing our feelings for this study will be as difficult as it was initially, but I'm sure we will relive some very poignant moments.

The Refiner's Fire

2010-02-07T15:45:00.000-06:00

I've heard the analogy of the refiner's fire used consistently when people discuss life's afflictions and the trials we each endure. The idea is that when the refiner of metal begins working with raw ore, he must do something extreme in order to change the ore from its current, worthless state into something useful, beautiful and precious. The refiner must subject the ore to heat. He must subject it to A LOT of heat! For the refiner to do his work, the ore must be heated to a point where the solid, rock-like substance liquifies and begins to separate into its constituent components allowing the refiner to discard impurities, the granular slag that is good for little more than paving material. If the process works correctly, the refiner retains nothing but the precious, refined metal in its super-heated liquified state. In this state, the metal is now completely malleable and can be shaped into whatever the refiner desires it to become: a tool, a machine part, a decorative ornament, or perhaps something neutral, such as a sheet, a bar or an ingot, in which form it will remain until it is needed for a yet-to-be determined purpose. From my own experience, I can testify that God works with his children in much the same way. He sees the eternal potential in each of us and wants to make us into something better than we can make of ourselves; however, in order to do that, he too needs to turn up the heat. The challenges, losses, illnesses, and trials of our lives can serve to soften our hearts and open our minds allowing God to enter and begin to remake us into what he wants us to be. The trick is trusting God during the refining process. I need to believe that the end result is worth the sometimes painful process and that he has a plan for me and my family. I find that when I submit myself to God's will, exercise faith and trust that he is making me into something better by having me pass through the crucible of this life, I can experience joy even when heat is on.

Approaching Holidays

2009-11-22T19:23:00.001-06:00

This year, the holidays don't hold as much trepidation for me as they did last year. Our choice to celebrate Christmas away from home last year felt like the wise thing to do since we didn't want to do any comparisons to the picture-perfect Christmas of 2007; Peter's tumor was stable, he was feeling energetic, and he simply devoured all of the Christmas spirit we could throw at him! His absence last year greatly influenced our decision to pack up the car and drive to Florida for a week to celebrate in a way we had never done before, and we made some amazing memories with the Parkinsons and each other that made last Christmas more memorable than I could have ever hoped it would be. This year, we are going to go back to celebrating at home, and next week will mark the beginning of what I'm sure will be a rich and emotional month of celebration leading up to Christmas morning. The trimming of our tree will be the activity which I'm sure will stir some of the fondest and most powerful memories; each of our children has many ornaments associated with them, either because they made them or because we purchased them with that particular child in mind. Hanging Peter's ornaments as well as his stocking will serve to not only honor his memory, but it will also remind us that although we can no longer see him among us, he's very much present in all of our thoughts. Building and decorating our gingerbread house, cutting our paper snowflakes, baking Christmas cookies, and reenacting the Nativity on Christmas Eve will all remind me of the joy Peter had during his last Christmas with us. I'm sure that many more things will remind me of Peter as Christmas approaches, and I think I'm ready for it. What I mean is that I'm prepared to feel the emotion of missing him and allowing tears to flow perhaps a little more frequently than they do at other times during the year. It's okay to miss him, and it's okay to feel sad for a time; when I let those feelings flow, they tend to leave behind feelings of peace and reassurance that life is progressing the way that it needs to and that Peter is where he needs to be right now. I will see him again, and my Savior Jesus Christ, whose coming into the world we will celebrate this Christmas, makes my ultimate reunion with Peter possible.

Time to Get Writing Again

2009-11-06T12:44:00.002-06:00

Some people get distracted for a few moments, but I apparently can be distracted for much longer periods of time! What can I say? Life has really thrown a lot of new wrinkles our way over the past four months, including sending a son to college and me starting a new career. On top of all that, I finally put my shoulder to the wheel, my nose to the grindstone and my hand to the plough and submitted the manuscript for Peter's book to Covenant Publishing. Now that things are beginning to settle down a bit, I feel like I can devote a bit more time to the writing that I depend on so much. For many people, writing is a chore or a necessary evil, and I can completely understand that; however, for me, it is a lifeline. Writing allows me to truly examine the current state of my mind and heart, and I do it pretty much every day. I admire people who write for a living, but although I would like to see at least one story published to the world, writing in and of itself is the important thing to me. I plan on writing about every topic I can think of on this blog for the foreseeable future, but I think I will always come back to how Peter's passing continues to shape and reshape my way of looking at life, death and the purpose of it all. I'm looking forward to seeing what comes of it.

Summer Happenings

2009-07-05T17:28:00.003-05:00

Mom's masterpiece

The proud grandmas!

The whole family flanking the graduate

All decked out!

This summer has been busy for the entire family, but especially for our two oldest, Nathan and Spencer. Since Nate's graduation on June 5th, the boys have been on a week-long back-packing trip to New Mexico with our ward's young men, and they just returned from a week down in San Antonio attending our church's youth camp called Especially For Youth, or EFY. I'm proud of my boys and the young men they are rapidly becoming; they both stood in church today and bore their testimonies of the gospel, and they always keep things fun and lively here at home. I'm attaching a few pics of Nate's graduation, and he was particulary proud of cake his mom made for him declaring to the world that he is a BYU Cougar at last! Lindsey's been just as busy with Girl's Camp and keeping up with her friends here at home (we just haven't been as diligent about taking pictures to share!). She is not happy with the fact that summer is now a third of the way over!

Big Week for Nate

2009-05-27T22:04:00.002-05:00

Our oldest son, Nathan is a very busy boy this week. He graduates from high school next Friday, and he is knee-deep in all of the wrap-up concerts and awards ceremonies. He finished in the top 10% of his class and was awarded one of the two outstanding band students for this year. Tonight, he had double duty; he spoke at Seminary Graduation at church at 7 p.m., and as soon as he was finished, he changed into his band tux and drove like mad to the high school so that he could perform in his final high school concert and be honored as a graduating senior. He has loved his high school experience, and he is looking forward to his freshman year at Brigham Young University starting this Fall. Since Nate won't turn eighteen until July, he will be able to go to a complete year of college before he goes on his mission next Summer. He's quite simply a fine, outstanding young man, and I am very proud to be his dad.

Sorry...It's Been Too Long

2009-05-24T18:58:00.004-05:00

Since the anniversary of Peter's death, life has taken many interesting twists and turns for the Barr Family. First off, we packed up the family and took a long-planned, two-week trip to Europe, leaving on Saturday, March 14th and returning Sunday, March 29th. Even before Peter's illness, we knew that we wanted to make one last special trip as a family before Nathan graduated from high school and before we all went our separate ways. We saved our tax returns for more than four years in preparation for this event, and as we realized that Peter would not be making the trip with us, it took on an even greater significance. We toyed with the idea of not taking the trip, or perhaps scaling it down somewhat to make it more affordable; however, shortly after Peter's passing, we realized how much we needed to make this the trip of a lifetime. Tina spend months pouring over Rick Steves' travel guides for Germany, Austria, the Netherland and Belgium, and we began working out the budget. Ultimately, we purchased round trip tickets from Dallas to Munich (via Atlanta), rented a mini-van, and covered over two thousand miles of European bliss in the two weeks we were gone. We saw and did things that I believe the children had only imagined, and we were able to relive some of my fondest memories as a missionary in the Netherlands over twenty years ago, hooking up with friends and acquaintances who played a pivotal role in my two years of service back in the eighties. The trip was a whirlwind, and as all wonderful things in life, it was over before we knew it; we did, however, take over 800 pictures and kept a meticulous journal of our travels, so anytime we want to relive the memories, they are right before our eyes.

Since returning home, life has been in fast forward. Work for me has been more demanding than in any other time in my twelve-year career with my company, and the children are on the downhill run toward the end of school. Tina continues to work at the Cake Stand in McKinney and enjoys working for a business that really utilizes her talents and gives her artistic side a great deal of room for expression. Nathan graduates from school a week from this Saturday and will begin his college journey at the end of August at Brigham Young University. This time next year, he will be anxiously waiting for his own mission call to arrive, and we can't wait to learn where in the world the Lord wants him to serve. Spencer completely loves soccer and orchestra, and he will likely be one of the varsity goal keepers next season as well as an officer and concert master in orchestra. Lindsey is excited to have her first year of middle school behind her, and she has her sights set on participating in athletics next year, both in track and perhaps in tennis as well! We continue to count our blessings in spite of the trials and challenges life places in our path, and we rely continually on the Lord to help us make sense of the great changes that continue to happen in our lives. Peter is always with us. We visited his grave today as part of our Memorial Day observance (okay, he's not a veteran, but he did fight a great battle!). Tina, Nathan and I all dreamed about him over the past few weeks, and he seemed to be offering each of us comfort. For me, he was giving me a great big hug, which was priceless. My son's death has turned my world upside down in many ways, some of which I never expected, yet I have to believe that all things are working out the way the Lord intends them to. We are slowly learning that life can go on, and the surges of grief, though they still occur, are farther apart and take place with less intensity. We know that Peter is in a wonderful place, and even if he misses us as much as we miss him, we all know that we will see each other again and enjoy the family bond we all cherished while he lived among us.

The Little Boy I Remember

2009-03-11T11:48:00.004-05:00

I think back on this past year and all of the amazing, terrifying, joyful and sorrowful experiences we've had, and I simply can't believe what we've been through. A year ago today, Peter completed his journey with cancer, leaving his compromised little body behind to enter God's paradise. The only way I can describe his absence is like missing a limb; his death left a void in our lives that will never fully be filled, but we are slowly learning how to function without him in our home. To honor Peter on this sober occasion, I wanted to share with you once again the eulogy from his funeral. It captures just how much I love and admire my little son and the towering spirit that lived for eight years in that tiny frame. I also wanted to share a few pictures that many of you may never have seen before; they show the Peter whose life changed dramatically when he was diagnosed only a short time later. God bless everyone who continues to cherish Peter's memory and expresses love and comfort to our family.

Peter Galbreath Barr

January 28, 2000 - March 11, 2008

On January 28, 2000, Scott and Tina had just said good-bye to Tina’s mom, Ann, a day earlier, driving her to Baltimore’s BWI airport so that she could fly to Utah and be with a daughter who was actually going to have a baby that week. Tina was due in mid-February but had been experiencing premature labor pains since around the second week in January. This prompted Ann to fly to Baltimore a week earlier to help Tina rather than traveling to Utah where Tina’s sister Katie was also fast-approaching her due date with her third child. Grandmas are wonderful, magical people, but it’s really hard for them to be in two places at once! Once Ann arrived at the townhouse in Baltimore, however, Tina seemed to respond very well to her premature labor medication, and after almost no contractions for close to a week, Tina decided she couldn’t keep her mom from jetting off to Utah to be with soon-to-deliver Katie who would most certainly win this round of the “Bergen-Sister-Baby-Derby”. Tina’s baby, it seemed, would be content to hang around until the appointed due date, and Scott and Tina settled in for another two weeks of anticipation. On the 28th of January, however, not twenty-four ours after Ann departed, and as Tina sat chatting with her on the phone hearing how she had arrived safely in Utah, Tina’s water broke: Peter Galbreath Barr was about to enter the world in very dramatic fashion!
Peter seemed to know that he was destined to be on this earth for only a short time, and the fact that he was in such a huge hurry to get here and get the fun started underscores that notion. Rather than go month-by-month, year-by-year recapping Peter’s brief but marvelous life, I will highlight some of Peter’s amazing attributes by sharing a few stories that clearly illustrate them. After hearing these stories, I am certain you will agree that if the quality of a person’s life is measured by how many people they impact for good, then Peter Barr lived a fuller and richer life than most people experience in a span of seventy-five to ninety years. He was just that kind of boy.
For anyone who knew Peter, they knew him as not just a friend, but as a dear friend with a smile that could light up any room. The Lord blessed Peter with many siblings, cousins, classmates and children from church with whom he could forge lasting bonds of friendship. His sister, Lindsey, was probably his closest friend in this life, and the two of them could scarcely be separated before or after his diagnosis. Their imaginary games would last for hours, and just when Scott and Tina thought they were finished playing, they would inform mom and dad that they had just finished “thinking” about what they were going to do and that the playing was only just beginning! They dressed each other up in all kinds of wild costumes, they made countless cozy forts with couch cushions and dining room chairs, they infected their friends in the neighborhood with their love of Pokemon and pretending to be baby animals, and they lived each day looking forward to the next chance to play together. Lindsey wasn’t the only recipient of Peter’s total friendship package. Peter knew his good buddy Cayden Fry since they were both in diapers, attending Primary classes at church together, going to the same pre-school and even attending the same elementary school in Kindergarten and 2nd grade. This past year, they were even classmates after Cayden’s family, to our delight, moved into our neighborhood, and Peter loved having his lifelong pal in Mrs. Trimble’s class with him. Cayden, for those of you who might not know, is the artist behind the picture depicting Peter surfing a polar bear down an avalanche, so it’s clear that these two have always had a strong bond between them. One day near the beginning of the school year, Cayden’s parents came to school to have lunch with their son, and true to Walker Elementary tradition, Cayden was allowed to invite a friend to sit with him and his folks. He chose Peter, and when it was time to say good-bye, Cayden was feeling very sad. Cayden had been very sad about leaving his old school and was trying hard to see the positive side about switching schools. Peter put his arm around Cayden’s shoulders to lead him off to play at recess, and when Cayden, through some reluctant tears indicated that he didn’t want his parents to leave, Peter replied, “Hey, I’d just be happy that they came!”
Even animals responded immediately to the friendship that Peter offered, and we’re not just talking about his devoted doggy Scamp, either. One of Peter’s favorite places to visit in this world was Sharkarosa Ranch out near Pilot Point. It is a wildlife sanctuary with all kinds of fun animals to not only see but with which children are also permitted to interact. Lemurs, monkeys, camels, assorted deer, horses and many other creatures awaited Peter each time he visited, but his heart belonged to the kangaroos, especially his little buddies, the joeys. On our very first visit to Sharkarosa, Peter bonded immediately with a baby albino kangaroo named Alabaster, and Peter was allowed to sit in Alabaster’s pen and feed him from a bottle. What was unique about Alabaster is that he had a crippled forepaw and would not have survived in the wild. We believe that the two of them saw each other as kindred spirits, and every time Peter went back to Sharkarosa, the trip wasn’t complete without an opportunity to feed his pink-eyed, snowy white friend who always remembered Peter the moment he stepped into the pen. Other joeys also bonded with Peter over the course of his year-long love affair with Sharkarosa; during his eighth birthday party, Peter sat in the joey pen with Itchy and Eevie, the two little pals who later visited him at his bedside just before he passed. While in the pen together, Peter learned that kangaroo joeys communicate with each other by shaking their heads and hears. Peter proceeded to “communicate” with his two little friends by shaking his head back and forth. They responded almost immediately by hopping around him, grooming him and tugging on him as if to say, “come and play with us!” Peter showed everyone who came in contact with him unconditional love, and that is what made him a powerful, lifelong friend to so many people as well as every other one of God’s creations he encountered.
I mentioned earlier how Peter’s friend, Cayden, depicted Peter surfing a polar bear down an avalanche. That fanciful notion, born of a thought Peter shared with his dad shortly after his diagnosis, symbolizes another of Peter’s Christ-like attributes, and that is courage. Ever since his diagnosis on December 9, 2006, Peter did indeed surf a polar bear down an avalanche as he battled his tumor, and never once did he ask , “Why me?” or complain that what was slowly transforming him and his life each day was unfair or terrible. He simply mounted that polar bear and took it for a ride! During his battle with a rare and aggressive form of cancer, Peter endured thirty radiation treatments, seven months of various types of chemotherapy, two surgeries and heaven knows how many pokes, pricks, yucks and other assorted unpleasantries. He saw his hair begin to fall out and watched in dismay as his body gained thirty pounds as a result of medication he needed to take to control swelling in his brain. Did this deter him from having fun? Not in the least. He went to Disney and conquered “Expedition Everest” like a pro. He rode horses and made a movie at a dude ranch in Colorado. He played his first and only season of soccer as his team’s goal keeper, following in his older brother’s footsteps. He skied down a mountain, cavorted with rescue dogs, and drove a snowmobile in Montana thanks to our friends at Eagle Mount and Bridger Bowl. When his right hand went numb as a result of his progressing tumor, was he discouraged? Not a chance; he simply put his pencil in his left hand and moved on without a moment’s hesitation. The journey of dying from cancer would seem like a maddening, terrifying prospect for almost anyone, but for Peter, he treated it like the chance to have the adventure of a lifetime. He treated is as though he had the opportunity to do something special and unique. He treated it like he was surfing a polar bear down an avalanche, not even worrying about what would happen when his ride came to an end; he had the courage to see the wonder and the miracle of each moment he experienced.
Another attribute that greatly aided Peter in his journey was his irrepressible sense of humor. We can’t count how many times we heard people comment during his life that this child always seems to be smiling! It’s almost as though he could see the fun and funny side of every situation he encountered. He wrote a story that appeared on CaringBridge a few months ago in which he tells the adventure of a tiger cub named Cobu. Cobu was fishing by himself one day but found himself far from home after falling into the river and being swept downstream. As soon as he realized how lost he was, he meets a girl tiger cub named Coru who invites him to play with her. “But I’m lost,” replied Cobu. “That doesn’t mean you can’t play!” retorts Coru, and off the two of them pounce together to have some fun. He loved hearing and telling the jokes that so many of you sent to him last year via CaringBridge, and he even saw the funny side in the changes happening to his body. When he would step out of the bath tub in his mom and dad’s bathroom, he could see in a full-length mirror every pound of the weight he had gained from the medicine he needed to take. Rather than getting depressed, he would smile and start dancing in front of the mirror making his jelly-belly and all of his little fat rolls shake and jiggle! Peter loved playing games and created some of the most dramatic and hilarious ways to roll the dice when playing Yahtzee and came up with some of the zaniest, goofiest words when he was his dad’s Scrabble partner. As his family rode the DART train down to the Dallas Zoo in early February, Peter was already losing his mobility as well as the ability to speak without great effort. That didn’t stop him from seeing the humor in things happening around him. About halfway through our trip, a clearly disheveled woman with mounds of unruly blond hair on top of her head stepped aboard the train and sat down right in front of Peter and his mom. Peter said nothing, but it was obvious that this new passenger had caught his attention. After she stepped off the train, Peter leaned over to his mother and whispered, “She was having a bad hair day!” Immediately after he was diagnosed and knowing that something was gravely wrong with his little body, Peter still couldn’t contain himself. He spent the day he was in the hospital getting his brothers to pull him around the pediatric floor in little wagons and playing ceaselessly with the buttons on his hospital bed. “This is the best hotel I’ve ever stayed at!” he would exclaim with his one-of-a-kind Peter smile exploding from his face. That smile and his ability to find fun in every situation saw him and his family through some of the darkest hours of this past year, and they are almost certainly causing quite an uproar on the other side of the veil.
A few months ago, one of Peter’s Primary classmates from church ran to his mom after church; like all of our dear friends, the mom immediately quizzed her son for news about how Peter was doing, obviously seeking information on his health. Her son took it a different way. “Peter’s doing fine, mom,” the youngster replied, “He knows all of the answers!” This pretty much sums up the last of Peter’s attributes I want to share, namely intelligence. Peter excelled at everything he attempted (except maybe tying his shoes), and he picked up many things far earlier than his parents ever expected. He spoke in full sentences near his first birthday, learned to swim before he was three, and rode his bike like a pro well before Kindergarten. He always had something to say, something to share, a story to tell, or an observation to make, and he almost always figured out a clever, silly way to say it. It’s hard to imagine what went on in Peter’s mind or how he processed things, but one experience showed guile and maturity far beyond his then six years of age. His brother Nathan was having his fifteenth birthday party at our home, and the house was packed with teenagers having fun and playing games. Peter was not about to be excluded from the festivities, and Nathan agreed that Peter could participate in the main activity of the night, the game called Murder In The Dark. For those of you who don’t know the rules, one person is chosen, unbeknownst to all of the other players, as the “Murderer”, and once the game begins, it’s their job to eliminate all other players through a series of covert hand squeezes without getting caught (everyone is seated in a circle and holding hands). Peter’s parents observed the game in action and saw the systematic way that players were being eliminated by the “Murderer” commenting to each other that whoever it was, they were extremely patient and calculating since no one had a clue who was bumping them off! Ultimately, the game got down to the final four players, and Peter was among them! As poor Melinda Woomer frantically tried to accuse Peter of being the “Murderer”, she quickly realized that in that instant, there was no one left to second her guess! There she was, all alone, staring down into Peter’s cute little smiling face as he said in a voice both innocent and sinister…. “You’re too late!”
Peter certainly understood things that no other child his age might have needed to understand, especially about his eternal destiny. Peter learned early in his illness that leaving this life was a very real possibility, and after a few fearful moments, he embraced that outcome as he drew on his faith in his Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Only a few weeks before his passing, Peter’s dad lifted him out of the bathtub so that his mom could get him dried off, dressed and ready for bed. Peter had been give a brief window in which he was able to speak again after several days of being incomprehensible in his speech, and his mom asked him if he was scared at all. When Peter shook his head, mom began to rehearse again all of the reasons why crossing over into the next life would be a wonderful thing to him, but before she got too far, Peter raised his hand as if to quiet her concerns. “I’m good…I’m good,” he whispered. Peter felt his Heavenly Father’s love and knew his Savior, Jesus Christ. He had felt the comforting, healing power of the Holy Ghost, healing not his body but soothing his spirit and preparing him for the next phase of his incredible voyage, and he had the intelligence to know truth when he felt it. He had wisdom far beyond his years, giving him the capacity to show patience and submissiveness even under the gravest of circumstances that served as an example for his whole family.
Peter Barr exemplified many things, but the attributes of friendship, courage, humor and intelligence are what his family will remember most as they reflect on the miracle that was the life he led. The impact Peter and his God-like qualities had on his family, his friends, his school and his community may never be accurately measured in this life. He leaves behind an almost unbelievable legacy for an eight-year old boy. He showed hundreds if not thousands of people how to face the greatest hardships in life with grace, humor, dignity and faith, and we could all see the love of God shining in his sweet, freckled face. Your family loves you, Peter, and we rejoice in the fact that through our Savior, Jesus Christ, our reunion in eternity is not just a hope, it is a certainty.

The Polar Bear Swim

2009-03-01T14:32:00.004-06:00

At the end of January, Tina and I invited some close friends to participate in a memorial or sorts for Peter in honor of his birthday. Since Peter loved both swimming and polar bears, we decided to jump into the freezing-cold pool (okay, we heated it to 65 degrees) and eat cake afterward! The atmosphere was magical, and we appreciated the enthusiastic participation; we only wish we could have invited more folks. I hope you enjoy the pictures of the cake (made and decorated by Tina at the Cake Stand where she works) and some pics of us in the pool.

Some people have asked me about the title of this blog, so here's my explanation. Peter's fantasy about surfing a polar bear down an avalanche made me think about what that polar bear symbolized for me. I didn't like thinking about the polar bear as the tumor; although big and potentially frightening, Peter thought such a trip would be thrilling. I then began thinking about Peter's fantasy polar bear as symbolic of Peter's journey with cancer, and now that Peter's journey is complete, we now have to make peace with it. Maybe one day one of us who remains will mount that polar bear ourselves and see where he takes us, but for now, we simply need to live with it and learn from it. I guess the polar bear represents the grief and the wonder that remains for us as a family; we can sit in a corner and cower, or we can cautiously approach it and with outstretched hands, learn the valuable lessons it can teach us.

The Difference a Day Makes

2009-02-16T07:29:00.002-06:00

I guess the best way to describe my mood yesterday afternoon was toxic. I felt a ton of negativity, and after reading my entry from yesterday, it showed. In the past, I probably would have apologized for floating that message out there for public consumption, but sharing my feelings actually served its purpose. I almost immediately felt relief from the oppressive feelings that held me in their grip, and I felt like I could get through them after a few difficult hours. Grieving is hard and unpredictable, and when I feel the upsurge of emotion, I remind myself of a line from one of Peter's favorite books: I can't go around it, I can't go over it, I can't go under it...I have to go through it! On my next entry, I will share how our family celebrated Peter's birthday with a modified polar bear swim with a group of people who have been very supportive of our family over the past two years. It really helped us honor Peter in a fun way without letting the obvious sadness of not having him here spoil the joy.

Difficult Anniversaries

2009-02-15T16:58:00.002-06:00

Sometimes I feel very ill-equipped to cope with the challenges facing our family right now. Like everyone else in the world, we feel the pressures of the worsening economy as well as anxiety over our new government's ability to offer relief to those who need it most. My employer has taken some strategic steps to avoid layoffs, which has lessened my worries over my job in the short term; however, when my group's primary mission is to drive sales within the corporations whose names continue popping up in the headlines (for all of the wrong reasons), I can't help but feel apprehension over what 2009 will bring. I am a man who works to live rather than one who lives to work; I try to maintain balance between my professional life, my family life, and my personal interests, particularly my activity in church, and so far this year, my professional life keeps trying to encroach on the other two equally important areas. Maintaining balance at this time is critical for me and for my family; we made it through the crucible of our first holiday season without Peter only to find ourselves facing his birthday, the anniversary of his baptism, and the anniversary of his death coming up on March 11. I rely just as heavily on my family to help me cope with such solemn milestones as they do on me, and as the world and the demands of earning a living continue to pull at my attention, steal precious time and drain my emotional reserves, I often feel spent, irritable, distracted and ineffective at the tasks I need to perform each day. I feel my anger and resentment increasing, I lose patience with myself and others more easily, and I find myself forgetting important details that sometimes come back to haunt me. I have no easy answers for this situation, but I do know that I can probably expect more of the same before things begin to improve. Peter's death is less than a year behind me, and I still find myself thinking of him constantly. I miss him so bad that I ache inside, and the weight of sadness that I feel at times feels overwhelming. It seems like the rest of the world has moved on, yet our family continues to labor daily with sadness and heartache; although the pain isn't constant, the moments, minutes or even days when it descends upon us are exquisitely intense. At this very moment, I feel a dark gloom hanging over my head, and I find at times like these, the only way to dispel it is to write about it with as much clarity and honesty as I can muster. It feels totally unfair that I have to contend with the day-to-day drudgery of earning a living, dealing with the relentless demands of corporate America and its dispassionate profit-driven sensibilities, when I feel like I'm suffering from emotional autism. I simply can't tune out the noise. I vacillate between wanting to be embraced and wanting to be left alone. My focus and my concentration is challenged at best, non-existent at worst. During my company's sales meeting this past week, I dreaded each meeting, each breakout, each banquet because I knew that the caring people with whom I work would each ask how our family was coping with Peter's death, yet at the same time I drew strength from the fact that they cared enough to ask. I have people who rely on me, and I don't want to let them down; however, I know that I'm not the same person I was two years ago. Discovering the dimensions, the contours, the limitations, and the capabilities of the new and evolving me will take time, trial and error, yet it doesn't seem like the world is interested in affording me the time I need. It's all very confusing, and I can easily get carried away in feelings of hopelessness. It's at times like this that I need to remember that, although I am weak, I can draw unlimited strength from above if I remember to humbly ask for it. I think that's why we're still moving forward in spite of the confusion and uncertainty we face each day, both from the chaos of the world and from the strong emotions related to our grief. Tina just reminded me that all we have to do is make it a day at a time; we don't need to worry about next week, next month or even next year when the emotions start to unravel and the world rears its ugly head to steal our peace of mind. All we need to do is concentrate on today and let the Lord take us by the hand and lead us through the challenges of the here and now. I pray that we can do that and appreciate the peace we have been given.

One Hundred Luminarios

2008-12-26T10:22:00.005-06:00

No matter how long I live, I doubt that I will experience a Christmas Eve filled with the same magic as we experienced this week. Chip and I left the beach house late in the afternoon to achieve two goals: 1) secure a bonfire permit, and 2) pick up all of the necessities both of our families requested for an evening on the beach. We returned heavily laden with firewood, marshmallows, chocolate bars and graham crackers, and the rest of our holiday party had been wonderfully busy prepping the beach for our special evening. Tina then brought out two separate packs of lunch-sized paper bags, one of white bags and the other of traditional brown bags. Chip, Adrienne, Tina, Nathan and I spent the next half hour putting three scoops of sand into each bag, folding down the tops about an inch or two and placing them up and down the stairs that lead from our beach house down to the sand. We placed a tiny tea light candle in each and prepared for dark to create a spectacle none of us could wait to see. After Chip and Fanone treated us to their favorite Christmas Eve dinner, we stepped out into the breezy, misty evening to light our luminarios. It took a little patience and some ingenuity on the part of our resident pyros, but we finally lit all one hundred lights and stepped back to see the mystical path we'd created from our home-away-from-home down to the edge of the thundering surf of the Gulf of Mexico. Spencer set our beach bonfire ablaze, and we spent the next two hours singing Christmas carols, roasting marshmallows, making s'mores and sharing Christmas memories. The mist coming in from the gulf obscured everything beyond a few hundred yards in every direction, and since we have been some of the beach's only residents this week, we could see almost no other lights along the beach except for our one hundred luminarios and our campfire.

The beauty of Christmas Eve and our efforts to make it memorable were tinged with the sadness I still feel in my heart. Peter would have loved this, and as I sat on the steps overlooking the flickering candles and the waves crashing on the shore, I felt overwhelmed by grief for a few brief moments. Letting Peter go this Christmas has been difficult, but we are now past that difficult milestone preparing ourselves now for a handful of challenging anniversaries. Peter's birthday is one month from Sunday followed closely by the anniversary of his baptism and five weeks later by the date of his passing. I don't know how time is passing so quickly, but it is. God is helping our family make it through each new challenge on our road to healing, and even though the tears I shed on Christmas Eve felt hot and bitter, I know that that they are part of the growing, changing process I need to experience in order for me to move on. On Christmas Eve, we lit our luminarios out of hope and joy, not as a token of grief, and hope will continue to carry us through all of the sudden upheavals of emotion that lie in our path as life goes on.

Fried Chicken and Our Arrival in Florida

2008-12-22T21:44:00.004-06:00

How many restaurants have you ever visited where the proprietor comes out and sings to you? Well, he comes out and sings at The Old Country Store! We purposefully planned the last day of trip so that we would pass through Lorman, Mississippi, the home of Mr. D and The Old Country Store where we heard we could sample the tastiest fried chicken in the country. We arrived just after 11 a.m., and the dining room staff informed us that lunch would be ready to eat in about ten minutes. It wasn't long before we were seated in the "historic" building (it actually looks about the way it did 100 years ago!) and helping ourself to an all-you-can-eat buffet with the most complete spread of southern comfort food imaginable: mac & cheese, dirty rice, black-eyed peas, collard greens, green beans, sweet potatoes, ribs, corn bread, and FRIED CHICKEN! All of it was prepared by Mr. D who came out to the dining room to sing to everyone about how his mama was the corn bread cooking queen and how she raised him to be the chicken cooking king; mama succeeded! The boys and I all agreed that the chicken was pure heaven, and although I don't feel qualified to declare it to be the best in the country, I sincerely doubt if I will ever taste its equal in my lifetime. We took some pictures with this true southern gentleman and continued our lengthy trek through Mississippi en route to Seagrove Beach and our home for the holidays.

We feel very blessed to be able spend this Christmas with our lifelong friends, the Parkinsons; they arrived safely from Connecticut yesterday afternoon after an exciting adventure getting down to sunny Florida from the snow-blasted northeast, and the party began the very moment they arrived. We've spent the past two days playing games, running on the beach, eating holiday goodies and catching up on old times, and our kids picked up where they left off back in the spring when they saw each other last. We feel the healing taking place just like we hoped, and we look forward to making some amazing memories for our entire family. The house itself is everything we imagined, and the sound of the gulf has been our bedtime lullaby for the past two nights. This will truly be a unique Christmas.

Culinary Bungee Jumping

2008-12-19T21:20:00.003-06:00

We finalized our preparations today and embarked on our Christmas trip of healing this afternoon at precisely 12:30. Destin, Florida is our ultimate destination; however, we couldn't just drive through the Mississippi delta region without taking a little detour to experience some of the more noteworthy cuisine! For those of you who have known our family for more than just a few years, you know that it's all about the food with the Barrs, and the channel we watch almost religiously is The Food Network. Last year, we saw two shows that each featured the same two Mississippi restaurants: Doe's Eat Place in Greenville, and The Old Country Store in Lorman. Alton Brown visited both restaurants on his show "Feasting On Asphalt" in which he celebrated great American road food along the Mississippi River from Louisiana on up into Minnesota. Gourmet Magazine also ran a special on The Food Network on the restaurants that served the best iconic American food (steaks, burgers, ribs, tacos, fried chicken, etc.), and once again, both restaurants appeared on the show, taking runner-up honors in steak (Doe's Eat Place) and fried chicken (The Old Country Store). When we planned our trip to Florida, we realized that, with a little creative navigating, we could hit both of these temples of taste temptation on our drive, so we planned it all out to arrive in Greenville tonight and have dinner at Doe's to see what all of the fuss was about regarding their steaks.

We pulled into Greenville just after 7 p.m., a full thirty minutes before our reservation at Doe's, and we were able to check-in to our hotel before navigating some slightly confusing directions to our ultimate destination. Doe's Eat Place has been around since 1941, and it's plain to see that it was once a corner grocery that was transformed into its current occupation over a long period of time. We entered the restaurant through the kitchen and got a sneak peek at the joy awaiting us: steaks the size of man-hole covers sliding into the broiler, pans full of french fries sizzling on the stove, and huge vats of their specialty tamales bubbling away. The dining room looks like it hasn't been changed or updated since its first hours of business, and the floors were actually slanted slightly: definitely no-frills on the atmosphere, which was actually part of the charm of this true delta native. We received no menus, but our server was kind enough to tell us exactly what they were serving tonight, giving us a choice between several steaks that would be served family style as well as a healthy selection of accompaniments. We settle on the sirloin-for-four and a "small" t-bone since the boys sounded hungry. We also got two salads, some garlic bread, and a dozen tamales, which they serve wrapped in paper rather than corn husks. The steaks were huge! We found that we liked eating them family style since they gave us all a chance to try some from different parts of the cut, and they came with a heaping mound of their fresh-cut fries. Needless to say, we left Doe's Eat Place stuffed to the rafters and thoroughly enjoyed the unique, down home atmosphere that I doubt we could find anywhere else in the country. Tomorrow, we will head down the Mississippi River road to find Lorman, Mr. D. and his Old Country Store, and some of the best fried chicken in the country. It will probably be yet another exciting chapter in our family's culinary thrill-seeking!

A Kiss from Buck

2008-12-17T20:02:00.003-06:00

On Thursday last week, I had the wonderful opportunity to visit my sister, Ali, at her home in Newburgh, New York. My recent business trip to New York afforded me the chance to spend my last night with her rather than at my hotel in the city, so I called her a few weeks ago and made all of the arrangements. She and her husband, Armando, graciously picked me up from the train station in Beacon right around dinner time, and they treated me to their favorite pizza as the heavy rains began falling up and down the Hudson River Valley. I can safely describe myself as an avid dog lover, and Ali has a beauty at home named Buck; he's part Rottweiler, part German Shepherd, and I have been looking forward to meeting him ever since Ali invited me to visit their home. Ali cautioned me, however, not to expect Buck to act like Scamp back in Texas. She warned that Buck is not the kind of dog you just go up to and pet; he's highly protective of Ali, and she indicated that if I just let Buck do his thing without trying to insinuate myself on him, he won't mind at all having me visit. I took that advice to heart, and when I saw Buck for the first time, I immediately had immense respect for this big boy. To picture this dog, imagine a large, muscular Rottweiler with a German Shepherd's tail. His head is easily the size of Scamp's entire body, and he moved with the speed and power around his domain. During our pleasant evening of pizza and conversation, Buck simply sat close at hand and observed; however, at one point, when Ali moved close to me to show me a picture, Armando suddenly ordered Buck to his pen upstairs. I asked if Buck had been stalking me, and Armando smiled and said, "No, but he was giving you that Buck look!" Apparently, Buck goes everywhere with Ali, and if someone he doesn't know gets too close to my sister, he goes into protect mode. I guess Armando sensed that such a transformation was underway, and he defused it before anything further developed. We spent another hour visiting before heading to bed for a lovely night's sleep listening to the torrential rain outside pounding down upon their roof and against their windows.

Armando left for work early the next morning, and while I brushed my teeth, Ali led Buck into the bathroom to have me participate in a ritual aimed at helping Buck warm up to visitors. She gave me a rawhide chew called a pig ear and had me give it to Buck while he sat at my feet looking up in utmost anticipation. He eagerly but gently took the treat from my hand and hurried off to devour it inside his pen at the opposite end of the hall from my guest room. Ali went back to her room to prepare for work while I went back to my room to pack my overnight bag in preparation for my train ride back to New York City. As I knelt down on the guest room floor stuffing laundry into my bag, I noticed movement by the door out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to see Buck entering the room alone, and he headed right for me. I didn't move, and following Ali's instructions, I just waited to see what he was going to do. He walked right up to me, put is big wet nose against my cheek and started licking me! I reached up my hand and started stroking his powerful neck and scratching him behind his ears, which lasted for just a few moments before he silently turned around and loped back out the door. I shared my little Buck moment with Ali as we sat eating breakfast, and she seemed delightedly surprised that Buck had warmed up to me so quickly. I figured that it was either my natural dog charm, or he was just tasting me to see if I'd make a good snack for later! Either way, I left my sister's home that morning with warm feelings from many sources; first and foremost, from being able to reconnect with my sister and brother-in-law for the first time in over eighteen months, and secondly, for getting a kiss from an unlikely friend.

The Little Christmas Tree

2008-12-07T14:47:00.002-06:00

Tina is my hero when it comes to coping with negative emotions. Yesterday morning, she experienced what we call a "grief burst", an unexpected surge of emotion not tied to any particular memory or trigger and which simply needs to run its course. We've both learned that when that happens, the spouse not so intensely affected just needs to be there. Nothing needs to be said; we've both been there, and these emotional flash floods soon subside. What Tina decided to do afterward, however, is what really impressed me. While the children and me took care of miscellaneous chores and work-related items, Tina went shopping for a special project through which she funneled her grief. When she returned, she had a small artificial Christmas tree and a few dozen miniature ornaments, stickers and other assorted nick-knacks out of which we could make additional tiny ornaments. This little tree, when it was completed, would sit in the vase on Peter's grave, and each ornament represents something he loved in life. For the better part of the afternoon and during a visit to grandma's house this evening, we completed this project of love and found our grief being swallowed up in the wonderful memories of Peter we can readily associate with Christmas. The tree is now finished, decorated with soccer balls, penguins, polar bears, a camp fire complete with roasting marshmallows, presents, Santa, snowflakes, a sled with his name on it, a big heart, and a fat hippo! Peter always loved the song, "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas!", and we even have video of him mouthing the words last Christmas while it played in the background. There is even a little star on top of the tree, and we think it looks just like what Peter would want bringing his resting place some Christmas cheer (even though Tina swears up and down that the tree still needs a kangaroo of some kind). We will deliver the tree this afternoon, and I owe this lesson on how to channel the surging emotions related to grieving to my lovely wife. I hope I can learn how to cope with grief with as much constructive creativity as the weeks and months without Peter melt into years.

Three Trees and an Icy Swim

2008-11-26T20:13:00.002-06:00

One of the choices Tina and I made many years ago was to take out a small life insurance policy on each of the children. I remember thinking how morbid that sounded at the time, but I can also remember thinking that should anything happen to the children, God forbid, the last thing either of us would want to worry about is paying for a funeral. I can't tell you what peace of mind that policy brought to us as we began planning for Peter's services; the cost of a child's funeral, which is generally about half the price of an adult's, can cost anywhere between six to ten thousand dollars. My heart breaks for parents who may sometimes spend years paying for the final resting place of their loved one, and I would strongly encourage any parent out there to consider purchasing at least five thousand dollars worth of insurance for each child, which can cost sometimes as little as four or five dollars per month. Should it ever be needed, the peace of mind it can bring is priceless.

Why all of this talk about insurance? Well, we retained some of the remaining money from Peter's policy once all bills were paid, and we wanted to do something for our home with that money that would be a lasting tribute to him. One of his favorite birthday presents back in January was an apple tree which we planted in our back yard next to the boys' salsa garden, so we decided to do it all over again. Tina purchased three Live Oak saplings which were delivered to our house on Friday. On Saturday morning, we spent a few hours digging holes, driving in stakes and planting the new tributes to our son which we can see every day. I love the idea of planting trees for Peter; our friend, Chandler Brown did the same thing at Walker Elementary last Spring when he planted a group of Crape Myrtles in Peter's honor as part of his Eagle Scout project. Such things last, they beautify, and they reaffirm life to all who look at them and enjoy them.

We did something else just last night that helped us think of Peter. The temperature in McKinney hasn't been unusually cold for November; nevertheless, our pool temperature has dropped into the upper fifties since overnight lows have been a little nippy, so we haven't been spending enormous amounts of time swimming in the pool this month. We are, however, looking forward to a special birthday celebration for Peter when January 28th rolls around. Since Peter loved swimming as his favorite activity and polar bears as his favorite animal, we decided that a fitting tribute to Peter on his birthday would be a polar bear swim! That's right...on January 28th, anyone who wants to come and wish Peter a happy birthday can do so while jumping off of our diving rock into the icy waters below! Since a few members of our family are, shall we say, warming up to the idea, we figured we needed some practice. We invited our friends, the Walters, over for an evening of marshmallow roasting and hot tubbing, and sure enough, everyone who wanted to spend time in the hot tub needed to take a brief dip in the pool first. The teenage boys went first, followed by the Walters' two youngest sons, Connelly and Carter. I then did my obligatory cannonball, and finally it was Tina's turn. I love that woman's style! The screaming started well before she even made it to the diving rock, but she saved the best shriek for her leap of faith. To her credit, I believe she could have given our Olympians a run for their money as she sped from one end of the pool to the other on her way to the spa! The pool temperature read fifty-eight degrees, so you can imagine what we'll be facing in two months (yikes).

A few months ago, I made a promise to myself that I would follow three more children who were battling DIPGs: Mara Adams, Gunner Gillespie and Aidan Zaugg. They are the last children we began following before Peter's passing, and they each put up courageous battles against this horrible disease. As of yesterday, however, the last of these three little warriors went home to his Heavenly Father as Aidan ended his miraculous two-and-a-half year struggle. God bless you Aidan. Rest in peace Mara and Gunner. They are just three names in a long list of beautiful young children claimed by this rare tumor in the last few years, a tumor that still perplexes and confounds doctors around the world. Now that these three have gone home, I plan on stepping back and focusing on my family, even though all of the families who have struggled or continue to struggle with DIPGs will forever be in my prayers.

Many parents make the defeat of childhood brain tumors their mission after the death of their little one. They often create a foundation in their child's name, and they dedicate their lives to making sure that their child's death means something. As strange as it may sound, I don't feel like that is my calling. I feel like the greatest good that I can do after having gone through this ordeal is offer help and insight to grieving parents. Many families break apart after their children pass away, mostly due to their inability to express their grief or reconnect with each other following the disappointment and despair of a child's death. As tragic as the child's death may be, the continuing tragedy of families torn to pieces by grief must also be addressed or else cancer's collateral damage can grow to include both parents and the child's brothers and sisters. I hope that sharing my experiences through this medium as well as ultimately telling Peter's story to a larger audience can help grief-stricken parents understand that life goes on and that it can become sweet again. We hope for that every day, and we know that it will happen to us and to anyone who seeks it.

Approaching Holidays

2008-11-22T21:31:00.002-06:00

When we understood and accepted that Peter would ultimately die from his brain tumor, we realized that we would begin marking time differently. Many who have traveled this path before us told us that we were going to be in for a season of "firsts", and our first holidays without Peter would be difficult. Tina and I have already felt many firsts come and go, like the beginning of school and the passage of Halloween, and each one has tugged at our heartstrings. Peter wasn't a huge Thanksgiving fan since he really wasn't old enough to appreciate a turkey dinner with all of the trimmings, nor was he a huge fan of parades or football. With that in mind, I don't feel like Thanksgiving will cause our reflections on Peter's absence to be any stronger or different than any other day; however, Thanksgiving is the gateway to the Christmas Season, and I know that our Christmas celebrations this year will be much different.

Christmas of 2006 came right on the heels of Peter's diagnosis, and we felt just about anything but merry. Our hearts were torn between shock, hope and horror as we contemplated the sheer weight of what we faced. When Christmas morning dawned, our happy precocious boy had been replaced by an emotionally distant, depressed child who seemed lost in every way. No matter what we tried, we could not break through the miasma that enveloped Pete, and our hearts broke as we watched the joy of Christmas have no impact on our suffering child. That was a Christmas we vowed not to repeat, and when Christmas rolled around a year later, the spirit in our home had changed entirely.

We faced the brunt of Peter's illness in 2007, including coming to grips with the truth that he wouldn't survive the tumor. We saw, however, a powerful miracle take place as he returned to school when his tumor stabilized just before Halloween. A second stable MRI before in early December confirmed that we would indeed be celebrating a very special Christmas with Peter, and Tina vowed that we would do everything we could to make that Christmas one to remember. We decorated the house inside and out like we had never decorated before. Christmas music played non-stop on my iPod docking station (and not the annoying stuff they play on the radio, either!), and the house seemed saturated with the smells of good things baking in the kitchen every day. We truly celebrated our Savior's birth into mortality last year, and our home felt wrapped in a halo of light for those weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Peter's joy and excitement that Christmas was as strong and infectious as his depression the previous year had been, and I cherish the photos and videos we have of him at every activity and traditional family event, like acting out the Nativity, or building a gingerbread house. The amazing finale to our holiday season came during our miraculous trip to Montana, made possible by the amazing generosity of someone we didn't even know. I don't think I've ever seen Peter so eager to participate in anything like he was when he went sledding and skiing during that trip, and the generosity of our hosts and the herculean efforts of my mom to make it all happen will never be forgotten.

Peter lived less than three months after our return from Montana, and watching him finally succomb to that blasted tumor was the hardest thing I believe I will ever witness. It left a void in my soul, and I feel the emptiness every day. Luckily, the Lord hasn't forgotten nor forsaken us, and I have felt peace, comfort and reassurance during those moment of excruciating loneliness, and I come through it each time with a new hope for being whole again. Now, we face the Christmas Season once more, and our family will approach it differently than we have ever have before. We know that we can neither duplicate nor exceed the kind of joy we felt last Christmas, so we are not going to try. Rather than inviting direct comparisons to what we consider the perfect Christmas, we will try something new by packing up and leaving town. We plan on spending time with some old family friends, the Parkinsons, at a beach house in Florida, and we are already busily preparing for what promises to be a fun week of new experiences. In honor of Peter, we will light as many luminarios as possible on Christmas Eve and reflect on the beauty of his short, eventful life. I look forward to just sitting on the sand in the cool of the evening, listening to the voice of the gulf telling me its secrets and watching the children play along the beach, digging holes, collecting shells and getting sand in their hair and in between their toes. We hope that by taking this trip, we will remember this Christmas more for being the first time we celebrated at the beach rather than it being the first Christmas we faced without the little man.

Thoughts on a Sunday Evening

2008-11-09T19:54:00.003-06:00

I just got off the phone with my brother who lives in California. I miss Mike, and I wish that he lived closer to us; however, he and his lovely wife, Monique, enjoy living on the beautiful Monterey Peninsula, so I need to be content with frequent phone calls and sporadic visits. We talked a great deal about politics, the recent election, California's Proposition 8, and the current state of the world. Mike and I see eye-to-eye on pretty much everything, which I'm sure comes from how we used to always stick up for each other as kids. We moved around a great deal as children, attending a new school just about every year before we were teenagers, and we frequently found ourselves needing to make new friends. Having a brother who was also my best friend made it much easier for me to adjust as we arrived in our new surroundings. When Mike asks me how I'm doing and how Tina and the kids are coping, I know that I can be perfectly candid with him, and I thank my Father in Heaven for loved ones with whom I can have such frank and open conversations. He asked me those questions during our conversation tonight, and I was pleased to report that we're in a healthy place right now. We feel blessed and strengthened to be able to bear the burden of Peter's death, and we feel like our hearts have been softened so that none of our family members have felt overcome by bitterness or anger. We've prayed for these blessings, and God, as always, has heard our prayers. I enjoyed talking to Mike, and I need to talk to him more often just like I need to talk to my sister, Ali, more frequently; she's back in the states after an extended time overseas, and I look forward to visiting her in her new home in New York before Christmas.

Charting new territory

2008-11-08T17:49:00.000-06:00

Welcome to my new forum. I have fully embraced this new life that God has given to me and my family, and I plan on sharing thoughts and impressions regularly; I hope that what I write is worth reading in some way. Your comments and impressions are most welcome, and I look forward to this new literary journey with you.