I led Laurel into the preschool, directly to Penny’s office, and as I walked, tears began to slide down my cheeks.   Penny came over, shut the door, and immediately embraced us.  I can’t remember if I voiced the worst, or if she could read the truth in our faces, but she began to cry with us.  She called the minister of the preschool’s church, and asked if she could call our home church with the news.  Soon, we had two ministers by our sides, but there was no relief from the pain.  To be honest, I can not recall any words spoken by either of them; just that each of them prayed with us.

Besides emailing our Sunday School class earlier, asking for prayers, I had also requested prayers on my Facebook page.  I began to imagine well-intentioned friend after friend commenting on my post and asking for updates; I knew I would begin to crack, and then shatter, into sharp, piercing shards, such that I would never be able to put myself back together if I had to answer those queries.  In an attempt to forestall more pain, without any other thought, I changed my FB status to “Please pray for my children and in-laws (and me) in the loss of our Joe.”  It did not begin to occur to me family members might read my words, and learn of Joe’s death from Facebook; I was on autopilot.  Indeed, our beloved nephew, who lives in San Francisco, regretfully did receive the news in this most impersonal and inappropriate way.  Winston, I am so sorry about this; I am sad you read about Joe, rather than have a family member call you.  (You know, Joe would NEVER had made this mistake but I bet he would not be surprised I did!)

Luckily, God took over for me, and had my sister Vicky call me about that time for an update.  She immediately took charge, and began calling family with the news.  I think she probably called everyone on my side of the family.  Penny took charge at work, and drove Laurel and I to my mother in law’s office; I did not want Ginger or Alton (my father in law) to have to drive.  Penny then drove us all home, and stayed all afternoon.  My sister Kathy showed up soon after and she began dealing with incoming phone calls.  My Dad arrived and enveloped me in a hug of warmth and security that only a father can provide.  One of my coworkers also arrived and stayed all day; her husband arrived later to provide his support.

Someone (I am sorry I can not remember who, but thank you) drove Alton and me to Jackson’s school.  I had called ahead to let them know the situation and when I arrived, they led me straight into the principal’s office and got Jackson.  Those that know Jackson may understand when I write that I was unsure how he would react; he surprises me at times by either over, or under reacting and I wasn’t sure which I would get this time.  As soon as he saw me, he asked me irritably what I was doing at school.  I explained that his Dad had a heart attack earlier in the day, and didn’t make it.  Jackson, with angry desperation insisted I was joking.  I quietly told him I wasn’t, and as the news began to register with him, he said not another word, as choking sobs overtook him.   I led him to the car, where Papa (Alton) sat waiting for him.  My heart, which was already in pain at losing my partner broke when faced with the despair of my children in losing their Daddy.

Although our hearts were broken, beginning immediately after the news of Joe’s death, and continuing through the memorial service, my family was upheld with selfless acts of kindness and petitions of prayer for the strength which only God can provide.  We did not have to think about food; there was more than enough.  The prayers were answered in a most powerful way; I was filled with spiritual strength which allowed me to put one foot in front of the other and move forward, and take one breath after another when what I wanted to do was crawl into bed and just wait until the nightmare ended.