Mark's Day

On Mark's death anniversary Blase and I went to morning Mass. I spent a lovely few quiet moments by Mark's grave for a rosary.

Sharing a Coke

I picked up my brother, Paul, at the airport in Rapid City when we were back in South Dakota for the Mark Park Fundraiser.  He was flying in from Texas.  It was late (after 9 PM) so I was the only one who welcomed him home at the airport.  Honestly, Paul, if you want a welcome home committee try getting a flight that comes in around 7 PM.  

I had to stop at Walmart for something for Mom after I picked up Paul.  He was sooo excited that his first stop in South Dakota would be Walmart.  Ok, he was not a bit excited.

As we stood in the checkout line I noticed a Coke cooler and mentioned how I never find my name.  I opened the cooler and picked up a bottle and right behind it was a "Share a Coke with Karen" bottle.  NO STINKIN' WAY!!!  I didn't take the bottle out because who wants to share a Coke with themselves?

Paul mentions he never finds his name.  So I try again - and neither name is Paul.  I pick a third bottle up and behind that one was a bottle that said "Share a Coke with Mark" and I just about cried.  I had never seen a "Mark" bottle before either.  I was beyond excited to find a "Mark" bottle, especially that weekend.  I asked Paul if he wanted to share a Coke with "me" because it was just too good of a chance to pass up.

Then I took Paul to Taco Johns for potato oles and back to Mom and Dad's we went.

The night was going great until I saw the "Karen" bottle in the garbage!

Really, Paul!  I was going to sign that for you so you could take it home and never forget me.

Some people's children!

I Miss, I Hurt, I Love

Dear Mark ~

 I miss your hugs.

 I miss your love for others.

 I miss your smile.

 I miss your enthusiasm for life.

 I miss your voice.

I miss you being in the family picture.

I miss you.

I still hurt when I watch a movie where someone dies.  The pains I felt from your death come racing back into my mind like wild horses.  They go this way and that way, completely out of control.  Some overwhelm me, some scare me, some are more intense than others, but always there to remind me you are not here with us anymore.

After seven years I still want to scream at God, "WHY?! Why didn't You show Mark more of Your love?"

I want to scream at Mom and Dad, "Why didn't you protect him?"

But mostly I want to yell at myself, "Why didn't you call Mark more often?" "Why didn't you care more?"  "Why didn't you love more?"  "Why did you fail him, Karen?"

Then I stop and I chase those stupid wild thoughts of my head.  I refuse to let the devil use your death to hurt me anymore.  I refuse to blame anyone for this.  I refuse to be destroyed.

Instead....

I love.

I love my life.

I love my husband and kids.

I love my parents.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

I love my enemies.

I pray for everyone who has hurt me.

I pray for those I have hurt.

I pray for those who have dealt with suicide.

I love unreserved.

I remind myself that after seven years without you, Mark, I still wouldn't ask God for you back.  I count the numerous times that your death has made me a better person.  

I never look at a teenage boy without praying for him.  I see now how the weight of the world bears down on them more than I ever saw before your death.  

I look at my bad days and realize they aren't that bad.  

I see the sunset with grateful eyes for day well-spent. 

I watch the birds in our yard with greater appreciation for God's beauty in creation.  

I listen to the rain with the understanding that God takes care of all of us, from the holiest person to the lowly plant. 

 I will always attribute these moments to the fact that your death shook my very being into a more observant and compassionate person.

I treasure the moments we've had as a family more than ever in the last seven years.  We've grown closer together, though still have our problems as all families do.  I like to think that you, Mark, inspired our family to love more, forgive often, and give of ourselves unselfishly.  That is a precious gift.

I marvel at what our family has created at the Mark Park.  How they share it with so many without thinking twice.  How they take time out of their lives to make other people's lives matter.  How they help keep memories alive and dreams come true.

This is Papa on July 4th just after 5:30 AM.  It is a picture of him under the casket flag of Great Uncle Leo Bestgen.  It has not been displayed or flown since his funeral in 1943. Our family (and some amazing cousins) made this memorial happen at your park, Mark.  The park we wouldn't have created without your death.  The park that brings others such joy and happiness.  Where loved ones are remembered, the scars of pain are healed, and happy memories are built.

So while I want to scream all those things above, I also want to quietly say....

"Thank you, God, for Your love and healing grace."

"Thank you, Mom, for giving Mark life, raising him, and for trusting in God when Mark died."

"Thank you, Dad, for holding our family together, for never giving up, for being a rock (ha ha) to lean on, for the hugs and God bless you's, for the example that no matter what crosses God gives us we can carry it and become better people because of it."

"Thank you, me, for being honest with yourself.  Now, forgive yourself, wipe the tears away, and face today like every other day."

Mark - pray for us.

Love and falling tears,

Your big sister

A Candle, A Prayer

A candle lit.

A prayer offered for Mark.

A decade offered for those who miss him.

Happy birthday little brother

Six birthdays without him and it really hasn't gotten that much easier when I stop to think about it. A new set of "I wonders" has taken over. I wonder if he would have been married. I wonder if he would have had a kid or two and if they would look like him. I wonder if he would be studying to be a priest. I wonder what our lives would be like without the Mark Park. I wonder...I wonder myself to sleep on days like this.

The Call

8:03 AM

The phone rings.

I answer and the world changes.  It was like a small 9-11 for me.  It was my dad calling.

"There was a terrible accident.  Mark is no long with us."   WHAT? I want to scream and I did a bit.  Dad kept saying he shouldn't have told me.

"It's ok, Dad.  He walked the closest to God."  I believed it with all my heart.

"He hung himself."  I did scream.  It was a shock scream.  No, no, no, no!!!  I didn't want to believe it.  He did walk the closest to God.  He...he...

My dad felt horrible he had told me, I could tell.  I assured him I would call Darren right away.  He had wanted me to have Darren there before he told me, but I couldn't wait to hear why Dad was calling.  Besides, I assured Dad I wasn't alone because Darren's sister, Courtney, was living with us at the time.  You see, I was 8 months pregnant with Brech Earl at the time.  Mark was to be Brech's Godfather.

I finally tracked Darren down and had him on his way home.  I sent a quick message to some friends and I started packing.  I remember holding my rosary and trying to pray.  At a time like that it is hard to remember even the simplest prayers when you are trying to find shirts, church shoes, underwear, and so many random things in such a short time.  We cancelled my OB appointment for that week and haircuts for the boys that day.  We were on the road, headed to South Dakota by Noon.

We lived in Michigan at the time.  It was a long trip.  The rest of that day I was in zombie mode.  I prayed so many, many rosaries and Chaplets for the Dead.  That night we stopped at some hotel.  We had four kids already at that point.  We were trying to squeeze into one room with two beds.  It all worked out because what little I slept I did it while sitting upright next to Darren's bed.  Poor man - he had to deal with all the kids and a pregnant wife who wouldn't let go of his hand.  I just had to be near someone.

The next morning we finished our drive to South Dakota.  With every exit, and I mean every single exit, I wanted to turn around.  I would say in my mind, "They don't need me.  We can just turn around.  They will be fine without us.  We can just turn around on this exit."  Then Darren would drive right past it and I would start all over again.  This repeated for most of Minnesota and South Dakota.  The closer I got to Sturgis, the more panic-filled I felt. How could I do this?  How will he look?  Why must I deal with this now?

When we got to Mitchell, SD we stopped to use the bathroom.  I can't remember if mom called me or I called her.  Either way, I knew I could not talk to Dad again until I saw him in person.  It would be too hard for me.  Mom and I talked about a few details regarding the funeral and visitation as well as how everyone was doing.  I also talked to my brothers at some point during the trip, either Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday.  They were worried for me, being 8 months pregnant.  My brother, Paul, did the drive from one side of SD to the other without anyone else, so I did talk to him to keep him company.

As we neared Rapid City I was a mess.  Well, mess is an understatement.  I was more like the aftermath of a hurricane followed by a fire followed by a plague of locusts.  Yes, I was that bad in my opinion.  My mind was a shattered version of its former self.  I told Darren I needed to visit the Blessed Sacrament.  We needed to stop...I needed it.  So we did.

I was all alone in the church.  Father had opened it for me and left.  I cherish those moments more than anyone will ever know.  I sat there praying as honest as I could.  "God, why?"  "Mary, help me."  "Jesus, strengthen me with Your grace."  "I don't know if I can do this." "I can't see my family. What will I say, or do."  On and on I went.  I prayed a rosary and a few other random prayers.  Then something happened...not a miracle or anything, just something.  I physically felt like I was being hugged.  Like someone had put their arm around me and I was being sheltered, or cradled in their arm.  I also felt like someone was holding my right hand.  It was such a comfort.  I have never felt anything like that before or since.  It was like the Blessed Virgin Mary was hugging me and Jesus was holding my hand.  I literally felt like it.  Was it all in my head?  I don't know.  I only spent 30-40 minutes in there.  I would have spent longer, but I had to go to the bathroom and the basement was locked.  Pregnant women anyway!

Here's the amazing thing.  I went in broken and in pain, so sure the world had ended and I was just a zombie.  I came out that short time later feeling 10 feet tall and bullet proof.  No one was going to get me down.  I believed in God's mercy.  I believed in God's love.  I believed in God's healing power.  Everything was going to be alright.

We finished our trip to my parents' house.  Pulling into the driveway was hard.  I knew all my siblings were going to be there, but my parents were making arrangements at the funeral home.  The first thing I did was walk in and said, "Who needs a Mark hug?"  This was a shock to my brothers.  You see, I guess they had discussed how I was going to be a mess. (ha ha! I was before my visit to the Blessed Sacrament.)  They were shocked when I came in as strong as an oak tree.  (Thank you, God!)  Later that evening I sat on the deck with my sisters. Poor Juliana was having a very hard time with it.  I am glad I was there for her.

The next morning was hard.  We made arrangements for music, which I picked.  If anyone ever wonders about music for my funeral, I want the same as Mark's funeral had.  We talked and prayed together.  We remembered.  We laughed, we cried.  My dad hadn't told those around home how Mark had died.  I was asked a couple of times and had to tell them.  That was hard.  We called friends far away and close to home. Some of my dad's brothers and sisters came to visit.  Then we went to view Mark's body at the funeral home. I remember my Uncle Rob told me that before we left to view Mark's body there was a heavy sadness in the house.  When we came back it was as though peace and happiness had taken over our home again.  I know that I did a lot of healing during that viewing. Later that night some of us siblings had a talk. Some of the kids wanted to go to the barn together the next day.  Mark had died in the barn and they wanted to see where.  We had a long discussion Thursday night about that.  When I was five years old my baby brother, Blase, died.  He was sharing a room with me at the time.  I knew where his crib was.  I can remember those details, even though I am 30 years older now.  I told my siblings that if they wanted to know where Mark had died, in detail, they would have to put Dad through telling them and then they would never forget it.  I told them I thought it wasn't fair to Dad.  Since Dad had found Mark, this was Dad's cross to carry and he should not have to share it with anyone unless he chooses to himself. Also, I assured them they would not forget.  They will always and forever walk into that barn and know.  It will not leave them.  It will not get easier because they know those details.  They decided in the end that they were not going to ask Dad.  I am not sure if anyone ever has asked, but I have not and never will.  Funny thing about this whole conversation is that no one wanted to go unless they had an older brother or sister with them.  Granted, half of the siblings weren't in the conversation, but I was getting this sense that they were waiting for me to say I would go with them.  It was planned to go the next morning, before the day got too busy.  We told everyone to meet us at some time I can't remember - 7 maybe?  8?  We were all go together.  Everyone, but John and Adam chose to go with us.  John said he would wait until Mom was ready to go.  I am glad he waited and I am still in awe over his self-less reason.  Adam said he wanted to go by himself. That night I talked with Mauri for a bit until Juliana needed me.  I slept on the double recliner couch with Juliana that night.  She only slept if I held her hand.  Just like I was the first night with Darren.  That night I got 45 minutes of sleep.  Long, short, something or another kind of night.

The next morning I got up early so that I could go out to the barn before everyone else.  I wanted to make sure that when we walked in there were no obvious signs.  I know that Dad would have made sure of that already, but the big sister in me had to make sure for the sake of my siblings.  I walked out there by myself.  Hardest. thing. yet.  To face that without support from others was a true test of my strength.  You wouldn't think it was that hard, but it was.  When the others came out with me the second time it was amazing.  You see we were very quiet at first.  Then someone, either Luke or Dirk, said something funny.  We talked about memories of Mark in the barn and memories of the rest of us too.  Dirk and I talked about the bucket calves we had and how the barn was arranged then.  We actually walked away from the scene of Mark's death laughing and a bit stronger than before.

That day was hard, too.  It was the public visitation.  Mauri and I went as soon as it started around Noon and stayed for the whole afternoon.  I felt it was important for everyone else to have someone to hug and talk to.  Mark's death wasn't just a normal situation.  I had hoped it would help others accept it easier if they could talk about it. The rosary was after the visitation. We had lots of people come, which was beautiful!  I am so happy they came.  It couldn't have been easy for them to see our family and see Mark.  The most beautiful part of the whole evening - the moment that Juliana reached over during the rosary and put her arm on Adam because he was having a hard moment.  We were truly there for each other during this time.  When it was all said and done I had spent over 9 hours with Mark's body that day.  Longest. day. ever.  With only 45 minutes of sleep, going to the barn, and 9 hours at the funeral home - I was ready for sleep.

The funeral was amazing.  My dad stood up and said some of the most touching words.  I wish I could remember all of them.  Even though our family was grieving he made sure to see to the needs of others.  He said that everyone had asked us what could they do for us and he said that what wanted most was that everyone take their worries about money and their job, about the outside world and family problems and send them outside the church. Allow only the peace of heaven to fill the entire church.  He said all of this before they had brought up Mark's casket.  That means he was the first in our family to see the casket closed.  To stand up and say those things looking at the casket must have been so very hard.  I was so proud of him that day.  It was the best day and worst day for so many reasons.  All the siblings, including one cousin who was more like a sibling to Mark, served as pall bearers.  We watched as they lowered the casket into the ground.  Hard.  Final.  So very, very final.  We had a nice luncheon afterwards.  We were blessed to have many friends and family come and support us that day.

The next day, Sunday, we attended Mass and headed back to Michigan.  Short week, long week.  It was a grace-filled experience.  Mark's death has brought about many good things.  I can only hope that his death will serve as a reminder to all about treasuring the moments you have with your family.  A reminder that all life is precious, including your own.  A reminder of God's mercy, love, and grace.

For the first time in six years I didn't felt guilty last night for not spending hours in prayer or thought about Mark and those who miss him.  I did something for myself instead without the guilt I would have felt.  Normally I feel like if I pray or think about Mark it will make up for him being alone that night six years ago.  That night when no one was with him in his last hours.  Six years later, I'm still crying.  I did my typical morning of the 19th routine.  I read through my previous blog posts about Mark.  I cried and smiled.  Then I typed out this post.  The only difference from today than from the previous years is that for the first time the 19th falls on a Tuesday, just like the day he actually died.  For the first time I am reliving this week on the exact same days as we lived them.

As always - Mark, I miss you.

Mark, I love you.

For the other posts I've written about Mark please follow this link.

http://treasuresforheaven.blogspot.com/search/label/Mark

God bless you today.  If you are missing Mark - God please comfort.  If you are still mad and question the why - God please heal.  If you are fine - God please strengthen.  May we all have comfort, healing, and strength.  You are all in my prayers and thoughts.  Thank you for the same.

Five Birthdays in Heaven

I thought for my brother Mark's 22nd birthday (5th in heaven) I'd post a link to prior blog posts I've written about Mark.  Mark's death has become a major part of who I am today.  The things I've learned on this journey have taught me more than I could ever imagine.  Silly things like the sound of rain, a young man who reminds me of Mark, camo, and a bunch of other random things are treasures to me.  They are reminders to me to slow down and smell the rain, to pray for that young man who may be struggling and no one knows, and to remember the things that made Mark special to all of us.  I wonder - would others remember me the way I remember Mark?  Having come close to death this year makes me wonder if I am leaving behind a GOOD lasting impression.  Will there be random things that remind others of me?  I kind of hope so.  I would welcome a memory in another that triggers a prayer for me.  Who wouldn't?

As always - I miss you, Mark.

As always - I love you, Mark.



These posts always make me cry.

R.I.P. Little Brother

BEEP, BEEP

Another Birthday Without You

First First

No Address in the Stars

Beautiful Book

21 Shots Anyone?

The Day in August

The Day in August

This is the day in August that can either make or break me.  This is the day that Mark died and this year marks the fifth year.  Looking back - I guess the five year anniversary was not on my mind, but if I had thought about I would have probably painted a very different picture of myself at this point.  I suppose I would have expected me to be a wreck, dreading the day, wishing for things that could never be.  Boy would I have proven myself wrong.  Today was an ok, normal, just your average work load kind of day.

Today started out with me reading my posts about Mark on the blog and shedding a few tears.  That was followed by answering the questions of a 7-year old about Mark and his death.  I expect that at least one child will ask every year.  Then the day started and I really didn't dwell on Mark again until this evening's rosary.

The hardest part of today was watching my 10-year old grief, tears and all, for his uncle.  He was so young, so innocent when it happened that now he must come to terms with it in his own time.  I cried for him.  Oh to be in those shoes and take away his pain.  I would do it in a heartbeat.  I know that wouldn't help him become the man he will be.  This is part of our family no different than a birth.  He must accept it, grief for Mark, and grow up missing him as the rest of us have.  I can't take those steps from him, but I wish I could.

I thank God for His many blessings on our family since last year.  I ask for His continued graces to be given to all of us who grief for Mark, either today or any other day.

21 Shots Anyone?

We are bound by time.  We go through our lives waiting for the sun to rise and then to set.  We count the days until we can turn the calendar page.  We celebrate the holidays and (for the most part) patiently wait for the next reason to celebrate.  As normal people, we like the fact that these things happen again and again.

Birthdays are usually big deals.  There are a few extra special ones we look forward to, like our first birthday, when we become teenagers, when we can vote, and when we can legally consume alcohol.  Today would have been my brother Mark's 21st birthday.  If his birthday was anything like the rest of his siblings he would have been escorted to the bar by family and friends.  Round after round would have been bought and consumed.  Knowing Mark he would have tried it all and had a blast.

Mark is no longer bound by our time.  He grows no older.  He has no use for a 21st birthday bash.  He is the fortunate one today.  Unfortunately, when I consider his 21st birthday and a little pain enters my heart. I am still bound by this silly concept of time and special celebrations.  I know that on Grandma Bestgen's birthday I will not grieve as much as I do on Mark's birthday.  This is because Grandma led a long, beautiful life.  In our minds, Mark has missed out on life.  This would be one of those days that memories would have been made and those stories tucked away for harassment purposes.

We are bound by time.  Sometimes we wish we weren't.

Since Mark can't take 21 shots (who wants to anyway!?) and since I can't take 21 shots (laugh all you want!), I thought I would offer 21 toasts to my brother....

So grab a drink!!!  Pregnant women and those with a religious exempt are excluded, but the rest of you better lift a shot of something (yes, that day old coffee works)!!

1. Here's to Mark Earl Bestgen - beloved son to two of the best parents ever!
2. Here's to the most caring and devoted grandson anyone could ask for!
3. Here's to the brother of many!
4. Here's to an uncle of the sweetest nieces and nephews!
5. He was a great and valued friend!
6. He was a treasured nephew!
7. His job at the sod farm was crucial to its success at the time - to this day he is still needed!
8. Here's to the guy that waded into a flooded creek up to his waist to save the sod farm pallets from ruin!
9. Here's to the guy that trouble found, no matter how he avoided it!
10. A nod to his dedication to serving on God's altar!
11. A another to he singing in the choir when he wasn't serving!
12. No one showed such kindness!
13. No one practiced such charity as Mark did!
14. Here's to the projects his creativity inspired!
15. Here's a super toast to his smile, freely given to all!
16. Here's to his selflessness that especially came out at camp one year!
17. Here's to camo - 'nuff said!
18. To his energy for life!
19. To his love for volleyball!
20.  Here's to his tenderness for the young, old, and everyone in between!
21. And finally - here's to wonderful and great man you would be today!

Sniff, sniff

I've cried three times today.  I guess I don't even know why I cried.  I think its because I'm bound to this silly concept of time.  I haven't celebrated the 21st birthdays of my other siblings, but for just one more minute with Mark I would drive down to South Dakota and celebrate with him if I could.  Silly, ain't it?

Happy Birthday taller, little brother!  May God bless us!

Beautiful Book

Have you read this book before?  Its such a beautiful book.  I read it to Brech the week after his birthday.  We try to read a few books every day and rest for 20 minutes.  This particular reading of the book was almost more emotion than I could handle.

All the pictures and text are taken from the book by Charlotte Zolotow.

Here's how it goes: 

 One day a little girl said to her little brother,

Do you know what I'll do when it snows?  I'll make you a snowman.

Do you know what I'll do when it rains? I'll catch the rain in a pail for your plants.

Do you know what I'll do when the wind blows?  I'll put it in a bottle and let it loose when the house is hot.

Do you know what I'll do at the seashore?  I'll bring you a shell to hold the sound of the sea.

Do you know what I'll do in the city?  I'll buy you a surprise.

Do you know what I'll do at the movie?  I'll remember the song and sing it to you.

 Do you know what I'll do at night?  If you have a nightmare I'll come and blow on it.

Do you know what I'll do at the party?  I'll bring you a piece of cake with the candle still in it.

Do you know what I'll do on my walk?  I'll look at the clouds and tell you the shapes when I get home.

Do you know what I'll do when I wake up?  I'll remember my dreams and tell them to you.

Do you know what I'll do when I grow up and am married?  I'll bring you my baby to hug.  Like this.

Four years my little Brech has lived.  Four years I have watched him grow.  Four years I have missed my brother, Mark.  Four years I have wished to share my Brech with my Mark.

 I shared my Blase with him at Storybook Island.

 I shared my Rex with him at the Army museum.

 I shared my Cormac with him at Christmas.

 I shared my Rex, again.

Though there is no picture of it, I shared my Stephen as well.

I shared all my kids.  They were all held by Mark and hugged by him.

I finished reading the story and Brech looked at me.  He said "Mom, there is water in your eyes."  Yes, there was water in my eyes.  

Those precious tears fell silently because I could not share my Brech and my Gianna with Mark.  

Those tears fell because sometimes it just plains sucks being an older sister who loves her siblings wants to protect them.  When you can't help them, it just sucks more.

Those tears fell because love hurts.

Those tears fell because love heals.

Those tears fell because its ok to remember those times and cherish them.

Those tears fell because they could.

Most likely those tears will fall next time I read that beautiful book.

Grandma and her Grandson

Grandma Darlene Bestgen died shortly after I posted about her on the 16th.  

Today is the 4th anniversary of my brother Mark's death.  I am not sad today because I am rejoicing the lives of Grandma and Mark and at the fact that there must have been a grand reunion in heaven on the 16th.  Grandma missed Mark so very much.  I know that if Mark had outlived Grandma that her death would have been hard for him.  He loved her and was completely devoted to her happiness.  He would visit her all the time since we lived just down the road and across a field from her.  I know those two had a special bond.

Here is Mark sitting on Grandma's lap in 1993.  Grandma was one of those good grandmas who always had  an open lap policy and time to cuddle. 

 Grandma took this picture in 1995 of Mark holding the hand of her Blessed Virgin Mary statue.  Grandma was one of those good grandmas that lived her faith and shared it.

 Grandma took this picture of Grandpa and Mark in 1997.  Grandma was one of those good grandmas that always took the pictures and made sure she ordered extra copies to share.

 HA HA we took this picture of Grandma and Mark on his 7th birthday in 1998.  Grandma was one of those good grandmas who came for birthday parties and brought gifts.

 Adam, Grandma and Mark in 2000.  Grandma was one of those good grandmas that loved to give the spotlight to her grandchildren and their special accomplishments. This was a good example of how she did that.  This was her birthday cake that was shared with Adam, whose birthday is the day before hers.  This was her birthday cake that was shared with Mark for his First Holy Communion.

This is a picture that Grandma took of Mark in 2001.  Grandma was one of those good grandmas that honestly believed everything her grandkids created was beautiful.  She would have treasured that snowman until the day it melted.  She was proud of the things her grandkids made for her.  If you could see her wall you would understand.  There was never a scribble on a paper or a handprint in paint that was considered unworthy to hang up on her wall or put in a book to enjoy later.

Grandma was one of those good grandmas.

Just Another Day

Today was just another day. Today I did some laundry, fed some kids, washed some dishes, taught some school, watched a movie, hid out in the basement during a tornado warning (ok, not so much an everyday event), played with the kids, read to my 2 year old before we both took a nap, changed my share of diapers, and tended an overly wet young cat. Just another day. The only thing that stood out today (besides the tornado warning) was our family altar.

A treasured picture, a lit candle, black altar lace, and a few minute meditation on the Agony in the Garden. This morning during our morning offering I picked the Agony in the Garden as our morning decade of the rosary. I explained that sometimes God sends us trials and agonies so that we will turn to Him and ask for help. He in turn sends us graces to grow stronger and closer to heaven. We talked about how God has taken this agony, this trial and given us the graces we need to grow closer to Him. I explained how we must be careful NOT to blame God. I also touched on the fact that it is not God's fault that Mark died. Mark had a free will, just like all of us. If we blame God and turn away from Him, then we will not receive the special graces He WANTS to give us today. Ask and you shall receive. We asked.

No Address in the Stars

Dear Mark,

Where to start? I miss you. I love you. There isn’t a day go by that I don’t think of you or pray for you. Three years ago I learned a valuable lesson about life. I learned to keep those I love closer to my heart. I learned to verbally share that love before it’s too late. I learned that it is possible for the world to come crashing down and yet there is beauty and joy to be found. I learned that sometimes the best healing can come from helping others with their grief.

Three years. Three long years, yet short years all at the same time. You have missed so much.

You have missed the birth of a blue-eyed girl with the sweetest smile ever.

You missed the baptism of your first Godchild. He’s such an active 2 year old. I know you would be so proud to share your middle name with him.

You missed seeing a young boy learn to draw anything from pirate ships to castles. I am certain he would have drawn you a whole collection of pictures.

You are missed by the most tender-heart boy ever. He prays for you every day. His morning offering intention always goes something like this: for Loman, Mark, Kaylene, Shelby, Mark, mom and dad, Mark and the Mark Park. So if anyone forgets, he has them covered.

You have missed the many, many collections of a curious boy. I am waiting to pass on your collection of pennies from Grandma and Papa Bestgen. I am 100% sure it will become his favorite collection yet.

You are missing a young boy learning to serve Mass. He served for the first time at our sister’s wedding, just like you served your first Mass at my wedding.

You missed getting to know the most wonderful man in the whole world. I wish you and my dear husband would have had more time to foster a relationship. You shared many of the same hobbies. I know you could have learned so much from him.

But that isn’t all you have missed. There are many of us in this family.

You should see that oldest brother of yours. He has such love and devotion for his family. He works so hard. You would truly look up to him in every possible way.

His wife is wonderful too. She is a supportive wife, loving mother and extremely fun sister-in-law. I think there is nothing she wouldn’t do for our parents. They are blessed with these in-laws!

You wouldn’t believe how smart their oldest daughter is. She is also a great big sister.

That next one – wow are you missing some of the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes ever. She’d be sure to show you her socks, her pants, her daddy, and everything else.

Have you heard about that new Bestgen boy? He’s a keeper! I’m sure it won’t be long and he will be going to work with his daddy every single day.

You have missed your next oldest brother’s struggles. They seemed to come one right after another. He proved that us Bestgens don’t give up when hard times come. I’m still sure he’d kick your butt in card games though! We all miss you at game time. Tripoly anyone?

What do you think of that next brother and his moto-cross? What a great day when he took first on your bike. Did you know it’s still your bike? Everyone takes their turn now and again.

Then there is his wife. Never have I seen anyone love our family as much as she does. I know she would have become one of your favorite sisters. Our brother is one lucky man!

Their first daughter is learning sign language and so much more. I heard the other day that she can write her name. Can you believe how big she is already?? Such a precious treasure!

The next little daughter is something else! I think her only goal in life is to make her big sister frustrated. Isn’t that what little siblings are for? I sure remember you frustrating me a time or two (times 50). She looks so much like her mommy it’s crazy. Beautiful in every way!

Our next brother has been through so much too. He has carried the weight of losing you and his friend very well. I am so proud of him. He has his wild streak, but who doesn’t. Besides, he probably does most of what he does just to irritate our sister, but he loves her dearly and all of us almost as much.

Speaking of that sister – she is married now. You missed a beautiful, holy Mass. She is such a blessing to her family and friends. I wish you’d send her another message. She knows what I’m talking about.

How wonderful for our family to have a friend become our brother-in-law. You need never worry about him not living his vocation. He is a great husband and a loving father.

Oh, have you seen that beautiful baby girl? She was the last of the trio to be born and the only one to pick Dad’s birthday. She’s special in so many ways. I think I’m a bit partial since she is my Goddaughter.

You have missed that next brother fill your shoes. When he was needed he was there for everyone. He served for you the day after your funeral. That was just the first of many ways. I’m sure you two would find so many things to keep you out of trouble (or in trouble). He’s grown into a man you would be proud to call your brother, your friend.

Hey do you recall that tomboy little sister of yours?? She’s all grown up into a beautiful young woman. It will just be a matter of time before we will have to start beating all the guys away. She misses you. We all miss you, but she really misses you. There are times when I wish I could just reach out and hug her. I know she will be ok since you are praying for her.

Remember that scrawny kid? He stood about this short, give or take an inch. Well, he is growing like a weed. He went to camp this year. I hear he enjoyed it. I’m so glad and I’m sure you are too since you loved going to camp. Give him another year or two and he will be just as great as the rest of our brothers.

Wow, three years can really change a girl. That sister of yours is something else on the volleyball court. You wouldn’t know she is only 11. There are times I think she is 16 or older. She is so pretty. She is such a wonderful aunt too.

That littlest brother of ours is a clown. You’d probably spend most of your day laughing with or at him. He can brighten anyone’s day. He is my boys’ bestest friend. I promise I’ll tell him every story I can remember about you. That way he will feel like he has grown up knowing you. What a blessing God gave me when He placed me first. I have all these memories of all my siblings.

You would be so proud of Mom. I am. Even when it hurts she is there for others. She has this wonderful ability to listen and comfort. When she is grieving you would never know because she is helping others. She has kept this family together with her love and patience. I can’t even begin to understand the pain she must have gone through. She is always quick to point out the line from the Renewal of the Consecration to the Sacred Heart, “We have full and complete confidence in Thee.” She has full and complete confidence and she passes it on with her words and deeds.

I cry tears for Dad. Oh what you have missed. I cry tears of pain for what he has gone through. He carries his cross with such dedication. I cry tears of joy for who he has become. He is the dad I remember from my childhood. I’m not saying he was perfect then or is now, but rarely has there been a better father than our dad. Send him your prayers.

You have missed a lot there is no denying it. We have missed so much of you too. I do not dwell on the what could have beens. I know there is a purpose and a blessing in all God sends our way. Know you have not been forgotten and you are still loved very much. May God bless you (and send some of it our way)!

Love,

Your Big Sister

First First

1 first adj : preceding all others as in time, order or importance

2 first n : 1 : number one in a countable series 2 : something that is first

First.

First bike
First car
First date
First kiss
First baby
First house
First anniversary

Who doesn't keep track of firsts? Who doesn't do something special on your first anniversary or First Holy Communion? How about your first successful batch of cookies when you are a kid? We always make a big deal out of our children's first birthday. We live in a world that honors firsts as accomplishments.

There are ugly firsts as well. First death in your immediate family (which for me was my brother Blase when I was five). First anniversary of the loved ones birthday without them. Christmas...first year of their death. When Mark died I know my family, myself included, kept track of firsts. He died in August, so right away a month later we had our first birth in the family (Brech's) and then my family started school without him, then Thanksgiving and his birthday the first part of December. Then came the first Christmas. The first sod season without him in a tractor or on the harvester. Our first family picture without him. And so on.

I have kept track of firsts in regards to Mark's death. Important times - like the first anniversary of his death, the first visit to his grave after he was buried. I also kept track of the silly things - the first time I didn't make it up to his grave when I was in South Dakota and other comparable times.

I just realized three nights ago that I missed a first last November. The first trip to South Dakota since I have been pregnant again. Silly I know, but just keep reading. You might be thinking - how odd to even worry about the first time returning to South Dakota after being pregnant again. Well, honestly it is odd. I battled with becoming pregnant again because I had myself worried that something was going to happen again this pregnancy. I was eight months pregnant with Brech when Mark died. He was suppose to be the Godfather. Travelling all the way home and mentally, spiritually and physically being there for my family was hard at times. I know people were worried about the baby and me, but I was more worried about them. Now does it make more sense why I would consider being back in South Dakota with another pregnancy as being a first?

It is a first first. I missed a first. I didn't even think about it until lately. What does that say? To me that says one thing:

Maturity

I have matured. I have worked past the firsts. I have moved on and little silly things don't seem so important or so big. This is a point that everyone needs to come to. This truly feels like the final step in grieving. Its taken me this long to get to the point where a first doesn't make me cry, but instead makes me smile. A first first! When I realized it I smiled. YES - SMILED!!!

I cannot credit myself with this maturity. It is a precious gift given to me by God, delivered to me when I needed it. Our Lady has never failed to hold me when I was downhearted. My angel has always been there to direct me away from worthless worry. All of those have gotten me to this point of maturity. What a beautiful and calming realization - God is in control, God has never left me to my own feeble attempts at finding peace in my heart and God will continue to mature me one problem, one step, one first at a time.

Another Birthday Without You

My brother Mark's birthday was December 2. He would have been 19 years old. Its our third year without him. Its hard not having someone to sing happy birthday to. I called my mother to wish her a "Happy Mark's Birthday" and we gave $19 to the Mark Park. It seems so little, yet all we can do. The boys and I said 19 Hail Mary's for him as well. On his 17th birthday I put together this slideshow for my family. It isn't much, but its what we have of him. Pictures bring back memories and keep him very much alive in our thoughts.

Today, for me, will you call a brother or sister. Tell them you love them. Remember a story from when you were growing up, share it. Tell them how much they mean to you. Tomorrow may be too late. Never leave the good things unsaid!!!

Beep, Beep

It's late at night, just after 11 PM. I've had a bad day. I feel like crap. I am feeling sorry for myself. I can't seem to shut down my mind and yet I'm exhausted. Too many thoughts, too little me to process them. Will the day ever end? Will tomorrow be better?

BEEP, BEEP

I hear it in the distance. It's like a beacon in a storm. It calls out once and yet it lingers.

I'm sure you are wondering what went beep, beep. Its a watch. It has no band to keep it on my wrist. It doesn't technically belong to me, but its mine. It beeps every hour, 10 minutes after the hour according to my other clocks. Sometimes I hear it, sometimes I don't.

The watch belonged to Mark. It was in his pocket when he died. It beeped every hour in his pocket all night long. No one heard it, no one. I was given the watch and his wallet and most of the things that were on him when he died. So I suppose its mine now.

What does a person do with a watch you can't wear? I placed it on my desk, where it has been for two years now. At the suggestion of my mother, every time I hear the beep, beep I say a Hail Mary for Mark. I spend a LOT of time at my desk or at least in the school room. You'd think I'd hear it often, but I don't. When he first died I heard the watch every hour all day long. The pain was raw, it was so new. I needed something to help me get through the day without driving myself mad. The watch was just what I needed. Those Hail Marys were medicine to my wounds.

Why don't I carry the watch in my pocket? Now, two years later, I only hear the watch maybe once or twice a day. It doesn't even bother me I don't hear it or carry it because life is happening. Dirty diapers, loads of laundry, dishes and of course boys everywhere. I don't want to hurry through a Hail Mary while changing those diapers or washing the dishes. I want to hear the beeps when its time. When life has calmed and quieted, when I'm not being hurried.

Last night I heard the beeps. I calmed and I relaxed and everything seemed so much better. I said a Hail Mary and it was medicine for my wounds. I smiled and tried to sleep again. It must have worked.

Now its almost 10 AM and I haven't heard the beeps again. Life...sure does get busy at times. That's good...I won't have time to dwell on the fact that two years ago today was the last time I saw Mark's body. I can relive that day like it was yesterday, but I choose not to. I choose to live today, the dirty diapers, the dishes and all the boys everywhere. The watch reminds me I choose to live today, without forgetting the past. Thanks Mom for the watch, for the Hail Mary idea and for Mark.

Slowin' down after vacation

I know I have posted about gearing up for vacations in the past. Right now we are winding down, coming off the high of our last vacation. We had a great time in South Dakota (honestly, do we ever go anywhere else??) yet again.

The boys played at the Mark Park a couple days when the weather was nice. My family has added new things to the park, so it was like we were seeing it for the first time again. Its truly amazing. Today would have been Mark's 18th birthday, so the boys and I will put $18 in the Mark Park fund in memory of his birthday. Its hard to imagine he would have been 18 - a man who could go to war for us, buy tobacco and other "firsts". I know he is looking down at the park and sending his love to us for remembering him. Some days...well, some days it still doesn't seem like he is gone. I find myself expecting to see him back home. I guess that is one of the bad things about living so far from home. I haven't really gotten used to him not being there yet. I am sorry to say I didn't even make it to visit his grave this trip. Maybe that is a good thing because I just let life happen for a change and didn't try to center it on Mark being gone. Oh well...I've shed my two tears for the day and now can move on. Please remember Mark in your prayers.

Back to vacation...Darren had a birthday - he is 34 now. We had an anniversary - 9 years and counting. Darren took me out for supper and up to Deadwood for some gambling. I won on the penny machine and 2 cent machine. After subtracting our loses and the original money we put in...I still came home with a nice amount. I would have come out further ahead, but Darren wasn't winning when I was. That's the way it goes I suppose.

Our Thanksgiving was quiet. We spent it with my parents. The next day our family had a photo shoot at the house so we cleaned and cleaned and cleaned the main living area. Mom was interviewed by a magazine about feeding our large family. So they sent a photographer in to do pictures for the article. It was fun and frustrating at the same time. There were...ummm 25 of us?? Not even sure, I'd have to count...terrible isn't it?? Anyway, getting that many of us to smile or even look at the camera was a major deal. As soon as I download pictures off the camera I will post a few on here.

We had the Gebes family Thanksgiving on the Saturday after. It was a quick stay as we were on the road by 3 that afternoon, heading home. We were even in time to stop off at Cabela's. Darren drove until 2 AM when we stopped at a hotel room. It was a LONG day!!

We are now home, the house is back in order, clothes put away and most everything unpacked. School has had a slow start, but we will get there. I must admit I enjoyed the South Dakota 60 degree days verses our 30 degree days here.

All Souls Day

Please remember the soul of my brother, Mark Bestgen, in your prayers today. This is his second All Souls Day apart from us. I think I miss him more than ever lately. I could use his example of kindness and generosity right now, not to mention his smile full of love and life.

Also remember the souls of our departed friends and family. I will in turn remember those souls who are in your thoughts and prayers today.

Eternal rest grant them O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen!

RIP little brother

Mark's grave next to my other brother, Blase who died in 1984.

Today is the one year anniversary of the day we buried my brother Mark. It is has to believe it has been a year already. I have had a good week in regards to Mark. I expected I would cry and miss him more than usual, but I didn't.

The boys and I returned this week from a trip to South Dakota. I have lots of pictures to post when I finally find a moment. While we were there I took the boys to visit the graves of my brothers. It was hard and I cried. Stephen reminded me that at the end of the world Mark's body would be "put back" with his soul and everything would be ok. Its wonderful to have such comfort at a time like that.

I think it hurts the most when I think of my parents and I think of myself as a parent. My parents are two of the strongest people I know, period! I pray to God to give me their strength, their gentleness, their patience, their love for their children and most of all their faith in God. So next time I miss Mark - I'm going to hug each of my children a little tighter and thank God for every moment I have with them.