For those in the mood for a laugh, I realize that I usually provide it, but this will be a rather poignant post. I have a heartfelt request for every person who reads this. If you do not want to cry, please read only the last two paragraphs of this post. Seriously.
It has been almost six months since the accident. Life for everyone around us has pretty much returned to normal. For us, it is a new sort of reality. We go through our day and there is not a moment that goes by that we do not think of our sweet boy. A thing so simple as walking into Wal-Mart and seeing the “Back-to-School” signs can bring me to tears in a flash.
It is the little things that make life worth living. And when you lose someone, it is those same little things that serve as a constant reminder of what you have lost. Hearing the diesel engine of the school bus go by...begging almost pleading that it will be followed by the hasty sound of the door opening, closing, and hearing a backpack drop to the ground with footsteps running up the stairs. The early morning sound of the toilet seat banging down. Going to the swimming pool or the park and doing the quick parental headcount and catching your breath as you get to three, when you should have stopped at two. Going to kiss my children goodnight and seeing the empty place next to my dear little four-year old where a six-year old should be. Joshua used to get up in the night to come see us, but he always hesitated just outside our door. My parental instincts would tell me he was there--I could feel it. There he was lurking in the shadows, just out of sight. How those shadows constantly remind me of him. How I wish that I could see him emerge from those shadows just one more time.
There are two ways to miss someone. One is healthy, one is not. It is okay to miss someone. It is okay to remember them fondly. It is NOT okay to play the “what-if” game. What if I would have just driven him to school. What if I would have flashed my lights instead of honking my horn–would she have seen that? What if...? What if...? What if...?
There are only losers in the What-if game.
There was a moment, I believe it was the moment of impact, when I felt the most calming, peaceful feeling I have ever experienced in my entire life. I felt an arm wrap around me. It was real. I heard a whisper in my ear, “he is okay” and I felt it in every corner of my body. It was the most singular permeating feeling of peace I had ever felt in my life. However this feeling was the calm before the storm as my mind wrapped itself around what had just happened. As I have stated before, I do not wish to here relive those moments save to mention this portion of the experience. It is hard to even write about that wonderful experience as it brings me so close to the terrible moments which followed.
For those who do not share my faith, we believe in a physical resurrection of the body. A reuniting of flesh and spirit. As I am limited to only what I understand on this earth, I must try and explain things accordingly. It is hard for me to fathom what it would be like to not be able to TOUCH my child again. I long to be able to FEEL him and EMBRACE him. In an ultra-simplified way, it is this longing to HOLD my little boy which reassures me of the reality of a physical resurrection. If Heaven is real, then of a surety I will hold my little boy again...and Heaven is real.
I find myself thinking back on fond times with Joshua. Pleasant memories which keep me missing him in the right way. However I have found that I, who did not keep a journal, seem to play only a few fond recollections over and over, despite six wonderful years of treasured memories. On occasion I have been blessed to talk to someone who shared one of their fond memories of Joshua, and as I recall the event, I add it to my own collection and use it as necessary to keep my mind in the right place. These are priceless to me and I need more of these memories. I have seldom asked anything of anyone, but I am asking anyone who reads this, if you knew my son, please share your memories. You have no idea how much it will help me.
Let me conclude by saying that my family and I are doing very well. We are doing as well as possible under these circumstances. We have felt the prayers offered on our behalf and we are grateful for them. We still need those prayers more than anything else. God lives. He loves us. If this life was all there is...life would be tragic. Life is not tragic. My boy is there. I can feel him, just out of sight, waiting...to emerge from the shadows into the light.
It has been almost six months since the accident. Life for everyone around us has pretty much returned to normal. For us, it is a new sort of reality. We go through our day and there is not a moment that goes by that we do not think of our sweet boy. A thing so simple as walking into Wal-Mart and seeing the “Back-to-School” signs can bring me to tears in a flash.
It is the little things that make life worth living. And when you lose someone, it is those same little things that serve as a constant reminder of what you have lost. Hearing the diesel engine of the school bus go by...begging almost pleading that it will be followed by the hasty sound of the door opening, closing, and hearing a backpack drop to the ground with footsteps running up the stairs. The early morning sound of the toilet seat banging down. Going to the swimming pool or the park and doing the quick parental headcount and catching your breath as you get to three, when you should have stopped at two. Going to kiss my children goodnight and seeing the empty place next to my dear little four-year old where a six-year old should be. Joshua used to get up in the night to come see us, but he always hesitated just outside our door. My parental instincts would tell me he was there--I could feel it. There he was lurking in the shadows, just out of sight. How those shadows constantly remind me of him. How I wish that I could see him emerge from those shadows just one more time.
There are two ways to miss someone. One is healthy, one is not. It is okay to miss someone. It is okay to remember them fondly. It is NOT okay to play the “what-if” game. What if I would have just driven him to school. What if I would have flashed my lights instead of honking my horn–would she have seen that? What if...? What if...? What if...?
There are only losers in the What-if game.
There was a moment, I believe it was the moment of impact, when I felt the most calming, peaceful feeling I have ever experienced in my entire life. I felt an arm wrap around me. It was real. I heard a whisper in my ear, “he is okay” and I felt it in every corner of my body. It was the most singular permeating feeling of peace I had ever felt in my life. However this feeling was the calm before the storm as my mind wrapped itself around what had just happened. As I have stated before, I do not wish to here relive those moments save to mention this portion of the experience. It is hard to even write about that wonderful experience as it brings me so close to the terrible moments which followed.
For those who do not share my faith, we believe in a physical resurrection of the body. A reuniting of flesh and spirit. As I am limited to only what I understand on this earth, I must try and explain things accordingly. It is hard for me to fathom what it would be like to not be able to TOUCH my child again. I long to be able to FEEL him and EMBRACE him. In an ultra-simplified way, it is this longing to HOLD my little boy which reassures me of the reality of a physical resurrection. If Heaven is real, then of a surety I will hold my little boy again...and Heaven is real.
I find myself thinking back on fond times with Joshua. Pleasant memories which keep me missing him in the right way. However I have found that I, who did not keep a journal, seem to play only a few fond recollections over and over, despite six wonderful years of treasured memories. On occasion I have been blessed to talk to someone who shared one of their fond memories of Joshua, and as I recall the event, I add it to my own collection and use it as necessary to keep my mind in the right place. These are priceless to me and I need more of these memories. I have seldom asked anything of anyone, but I am asking anyone who reads this, if you knew my son, please share your memories. You have no idea how much it will help me.
Let me conclude by saying that my family and I are doing very well. We are doing as well as possible under these circumstances. We have felt the prayers offered on our behalf and we are grateful for them. We still need those prayers more than anything else. God lives. He loves us. If this life was all there is...life would be tragic. Life is not tragic. My boy is there. I can feel him, just out of sight, waiting...to emerge from the shadows into the light.
Chris, I want you to know that life has not returned to normal for everyone. In fact, I would venture to say that for many of us, life is a new reality also, since the passing of Joshua.
ReplyDeleteThere is not a day that goes by that I don't look at Andrew and think of Josh. Every tiny milestone that Andrew passes, I find myself thinking of you and Cheryl and how you must miss these little things. As his (Andrew's) 6th birthday quickly approaches, I have thought many times that he will soon be the same age as Josh when you lost him. Will the loss of a child be required of me? Which child would be taken? Would I endure such a trial with half as much faith as you have shown? Tough questions to think about, but that is how life has changed for me. I have learned a new closeness to the spirit and an urgency to live the gospel and prepare my children for whatever path the Lord has chosen for them.
I know we have lived far away and did not know Josh well, but there is one small memory that flashes back to me all the time. We came to visit for Christmas when Andrew was about 16 months. It was his first Christmas he was really old enough to pay any attention to his gifts. He was trying to play with some Weebleville play set and Joshua came over and started playing. Andrew watched as Josh showed him how to put the Weebles in the car, and in the house, and down the slide. When Josh walked away, Andrew picked up the toys and started copying what Josh had showed him.
I know it may seem a silly little memory, but I have thought back to it several times and prayed that Andrew would heed that example again. That he would live as righteously as Joshua and return home with honor again also.
Just one more quick thought to share--We had some little bunnies that died a few months back. My boys miss them and often talk of seeing their bunnies again. The other day I was in an ajacent room and overheard a conversation about the bunnies in heaven, and how their cousin in heaven probably had their bunnies and was taking care of them. They spoke as if they knew Josh well, (which I'm sure they do as the spirit reminds them)and their testimony of this life was very comforting and humbling to me.
Thank you for sharing- we love you.
Don't mean to dominate your comment section, but as I was cleaning this morning I thought of another memory of Josh.
ReplyDeleteWhen I came to visit for Grandma Cromwell's funeral there was a time upon your leaving Mom's house that Josh came and said goodbye. He gave me a hug as if I were his best friend, though he hardly knew me. When he hugged me I remembered being a little shocked that he would so willing love someone he didn't know very well. Then I was reminded that Kevin (Karl and Tonya's boy) had once done a very similar thing. I never made the connection until later that these were not the little boys their bodies defined. They were spirits with maturity far beyond my own.
I miss him, too.
ReplyDeleteEach time I dust the shelf which holds my very large tin of Matchbox/Hotwheels cars and my buckets of Duplos, I remember him coming to play while Cheryl and I attempted to fit music lessons in-between our incessant need to talk. I remember him alternately fighting with Riley over a particular car, or sharing it with him because he was the big brother. I remember his quest for a snack as he walked through my kitchen--certain I had something just for him. And the last Sunday you and Cheryl visited Laramie with him, I remember him standing up in Primary, as we talked about families in Sharing Time, telling us all very confidently that he was Joshua Scott Ringer, he had a brother and a sister, and a mom and a dad, and they all loved him. Then he introduced us to Riley, who sat and grinned as his brother pointed him out.
I'm grateful for Joshua. He has been, and always will be, a bright spot in my life. I know the wait until you are reunited will be long, but he is yours. And he knows you love him. I heard him say it.
That was very touching and so sincere, Chris. Thank you so much for sharing that message. I've been kicking myself, beacause I've been thinking about you guys a lot lately and never did anything about it. I think of your family often...I just need to let you guys know! We only met Joshua a few times, but I remember each. I remember having breakfast at JB's in Laramie with you guys when he was just a newborn. I just remember watching, especially Cheryl, in awe as she tended to him just like she had done it all her life, and how much I enjoyed holding him for the first time. I had, and since have, held many newborns; but it stands out that I remember being significantly impressed at how willing, and even excited, Cheryl and you both were to share him with me...of course I really wanted to hold him, but I didn't ask and then you just handed him to me. I mean, sure I was a friend, but really...who was I that you'd share your son with me even for a moment...especially now knowing how few you really had with him. That really sticks out. Another memory I have, is staying with you guys in Casper; I don't know if he was even a year yet, but you guys showed us his skill on the treadmill. I just can't remember if he was crawling or holding on and walking on it...pretty sure he was crawling. It was stinkin' cute! Whenever we were in your home, I just remember looking at your family pictures over and over. Another time in Fort Collins, we met up and had dinner together and Taysum had just been born. I remember you and Joshua had a little thing you did together I remember thinking was so cute. I can't remember the phrase ("noodle bonk?" I think?) but the love and tenderness between you two as you shared that moment is extremely vivid. I really appreciate your family's example. Anytime we were with you, I was just in awe watching Cheryl being a mother; she surely fulfills the measure of her creation. We love you guys and I hope you get many many responses!
ReplyDeleteWhat a sweet post Chris. It's been a long time but one of the things that sticks out to me the most was the first time I babysat Josh and Riley. Riley was pretty new still and Josh was 2 I think. Anyway Josh was pretty sad the first little while he was with us and I remember he grabbed Hallie's play phone and tried to call his Mom. He said, "Mommy, can you come get me please? Okay, bye." And then hung up and told me his Mom was coming to get him. I thought it was so sweet.
ReplyDeleteI also remember when Cheryl would lead the music in church and would go to sit down with your family how Josh would always run up the aisle to her and she would pick him up before she got to her seat.
I remember all the times Cheryl would fall asleep next to him at bed time and I always seemed to call and wake her up. I thought it was so sweet that she took time everynight to read stories to him and help him fall asleep.
I also remember how you would turn into a kid yourself and play with him and how much he loved it. You guys are great parents. You were a big example to me and showed me how to be a better parent myself.
Sincerely,
Megan Fenton
I remember hearing his little voice almost every single time we would visit the playground at Connemara. He seemed to notice us everytime we were there and would come out onto your back porch to cheerfully say hi and visit. Occassionally he would just yell a hello from the window!
ReplyDeleteI remember hearing the music from your apartment and hearing him sing with Cheryl.
I remember him trying to play baseball with Teagan and seeing the two of you play together.
I remember seeing his flipflops that had been left laying at the playground.
I remember morning walks with Cheryl, Joshua, Riley, Teagan and Colby and Joshua sharing waterbottles and his breakfast burrito with my kids.
I remember him being a reverant boy in primary.
I remember that darling smile. Seeing it over and over again.
Here are just a few of my momories for you. Chris, anytime we can do any little thing, please please ask. We love your family and pray for you often.
Bridgette
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ReplyDeleteChris,
ReplyDeleteI just want you to know also that life hasn’t returned to normal for most people that know you and your family. I think of you guys every single day. I never had the pleasure of meeting your precious Joshua, but I read your blogs often. I love the post about the cookies & milk negotiation. I enjoy reading those and have read them many many times. Your love for your family and your strength in your faith are so beautiful and so apparent. I hope to someday have the pleasure of meeting the rest of your family, as I think you are all a wonderful example of family, love and faith. Take care and please know you are constantly in my thoughts and prayers.
Lisa
Chris,
ReplyDeleteJoshua had an ability to make everyone feel like they were very special to him. I remember babysitting him on various occasion and he had me laughing the entire time. He always had some games to play or something to say. my favorite time was when he would come up to me and insist that we needed to sit on the couch and snuggle. That was the best!
I also remember some occasional visits that he made to the office when we were both working for Dr. Edwards- He always seemed so happy and that didn't change as he grew.
I love your family so much. Thanks for sharing all of you thought with us- it is wonderful to be able to hear yours and other peoples stories!
Chris,
ReplyDeleteThis is exactly what our family has been working on is writing down our memories of Josh. It should have been done and delivered months ago. Sheri has wanted to rewrite them all and make it nice. I have encouraged some haste in lieu of your request. I hope you will get it soon. We plan to work on it tomorrow. I leave on Tuesday for Israel and Egypt and won't be home until the 19th. Our girls have several games in Gillette this fall with Volleyball. Can we come visit???
Love you!
Clark
Chris,
ReplyDeleteEverytime I think of Josh, I think of that picture Cheryl had on the fridge. He had a devious smile on his face that you couldn't help but love with the poem "I am your wild" printed on the side. He typified that poem in my eyes.
I remember singing "I am a Child of God" with him at night and snuggling him to sleep.
I remember the time Gene made it into his "I'm thankful for..." prayer list, right along side 'butter'. Gene was so proud.
I remember that no big brother could have loved his younger brother more. He would show me where his diapers were and blankets and clothes were and then supervise to make sure I was taking proper care of him.
I remember what special attention he would give to Cledi and how gentle he was around her.
I remember, and I think Gene already mentioned this one, the time he turned on the garbage disposal and came high tailing out of the kitchen, scared half to death that he was going to bring the house down.
I remember that every song I played on your piano turned into a piano duet.
I remember him running back and forth and back and forth from the kitchen through the living room and down the hall. I look back and wonder how you guys ever lived in such a small apartment with 2 kids!
I remember him happily greeting us at the door whenever we came over.
We have loved reading these memories of him and how it sparks flashes of moments that we were privileged to spend with him. Our love and prayers are always with you.
Josh greeted his father with love each and every morning.
ReplyDeleteMy wife and I have not yet been blessed with children, so perhaps the same is true for all kids, I dont know. But I remember witnessing Josh greet his father in the morning and it made ME feel good. That's how much he loved his father, enough to make those around him take notice and enjoy.
Chris and I studied for the Wyoming Bar Exam together very early in the morning, all summer long in 2007. Before the Ringer family even started their day, Chris and I would be hard at it. Very often, Josh would interrupt our study session in his pajamas, hair a mess, eyes still a bit swollen. He'd climb into his daddy's lap and hug him, so dependently, perhaps even going to sleep for a few more brief moments before his day began. Eventually, Chris would take him back upstairs to start breakfast with his mommy.
Never once did I mind it when Josh interrupted the study sessions. I loved it. I loved watching Josh love his dad. It made me want to be a father. I'd sit back in my chair, fold my arms, and witness pure unabashed love between father and son.
Chris,
ReplyDeleteI love you and my heart aches for you because I know a little of the pain that underlies the faith that you cling to.
I have a small memory that I wanted to share with you. . .
I remember visiting you and Cheryl when Josh was just a baby. Cheryl and I were sitting on the couch talking when you raced into the room with Josh above your head pretending to be Superman. I remember thinking at the moment that I hoped someday I could find a man who could be such a wonderful daddy and that I might someday have a baby as happy and sweet as Josh.
I know that the loss of him pulls at your heart and that you probably sometimes wonder if it will ever stop hurting. Take peace in knowing that it will. Time will pass, the memories will take on a new sweetness, new memories will be formed in which you recognize his presence and influence, and you will know that he is often near. We love you and pray for you always.