First Merry Christmas to my fellow Slanters! Christmas is always a time of reflection as I both look forward and remember the past. Five years ago next March, my oldest son died unexpectedly. It was absolutely the worst time of my life. He was a huge Jayhawk and we spent a lot of good times watching both basketball in AFH and football at Memorial. I have many, many memories of good times and bad as we shared our love for all things KU.
He is deeply missed and my life has been deeply diminished with his death. I sat alone this Christmas morning feeling my loss and allowing those soul deep emotions flow. My grief has tempered but it is like an unwanted house guest with whom I have made accommodations. My grief keeps me connected to him.
This past week I went over to the demolition of Memorial and to take pictures and videos for prosperity’s sake. As I walked toward the stadium I felt the sadness well inside of me as I remembered the times my son and I waved the wheat in victory or walked away after a loss, remaining hopeful that someday we would see a solid program reemerge. I was probably a sight as I choked back my sorrow of having lost my son, my friend and my Jayhawk buddy.
KU football is more than a game. It is a connection that is deeper than a game, a season and even a lifetime. I used to sit at my dinner table and listen to KU football and keep stats. My own dad would comfort me when we lost as I wept through those defeats. I ended up doing the same to my own son when he caught the same love as I had. I guess I passed it on to him.
I know this is long but if you’ll indulge me, it’s quite therapeutic for me. KU football is more than a sport. One day when I’m reunited with my son, I have a feeling he’ll be wearing a KU jersey and will smile, hug me and whisper “Rock Chalk.”
So Merry Christmas and when we beat UNLV please understand my tears aren’t because we won a bowl game and a nine win season. It will be because somehow, I will feel a connection with my son that death did not end.
He is deeply missed and my life has been deeply diminished with his death. I sat alone this Christmas morning feeling my loss and allowing those soul deep emotions flow. My grief has tempered but it is like an unwanted house guest with whom I have made accommodations. My grief keeps me connected to him.
This past week I went over to the demolition of Memorial and to take pictures and videos for prosperity’s sake. As I walked toward the stadium I felt the sadness well inside of me as I remembered the times my son and I waved the wheat in victory or walked away after a loss, remaining hopeful that someday we would see a solid program reemerge. I was probably a sight as I choked back my sorrow of having lost my son, my friend and my Jayhawk buddy.
KU football is more than a game. It is a connection that is deeper than a game, a season and even a lifetime. I used to sit at my dinner table and listen to KU football and keep stats. My own dad would comfort me when we lost as I wept through those defeats. I ended up doing the same to my own son when he caught the same love as I had. I guess I passed it on to him.
I know this is long but if you’ll indulge me, it’s quite therapeutic for me. KU football is more than a sport. One day when I’m reunited with my son, I have a feeling he’ll be wearing a KU jersey and will smile, hug me and whisper “Rock Chalk.”
So Merry Christmas and when we beat UNLV please understand my tears aren’t because we won a bowl game and a nine win season. It will be because somehow, I will feel a connection with my son that death did not end.
