A time to weep and a time to laugh
Yesterday (Sunday) was probably one of the best and yet hardest days of my life. My mom, dad and I piled into the van at 6 a.m. and headed off towards Livingston, TX. We were on our way to see Josh Bigby's family. I had not slept yet, so I promptly fell asleep and woke up about 6 hours later as we approached Lake Livingston. It was a beautiful area, so green and alive. It took a couple minutes to drive across the lake as I took time to gaze out at the water.
We pulled up to the house about 12:30 p.m. and were greeted by Tank (Elizabeth's pit bull) and the chow. Josh's dad met us outside and showed us up the stairs to the deck. Their house sat right on the lake. It was beautiful and peaceful. I could see why Josh loved this place. We met Elizabeth, Josh's sister. Josh's mom came outside and her first thoughts to me were, "Wow! You're so tiny!!" At first I thought it was just because their family is tall, nobody much under 5'9" and I'm only shy of 5'4". After we returned home, I realized it might also have had to do with the only picture she had seen of me. It is the picture of Josh and me. Josh was 6'6" and in the picture the top of my head is about even with his eyes. She probably was expecting a very tall girl, about 6'2" but the picture doesn't show that Josh was sitting on a rail.
We walked inside and were met with a dining room table full of Josh. There were pictures and articles about him from the time he was just a child. There was a basketball card he had drawn of himself. On the back it had all his statistics and a quote "Josh is a man who gets almost every rebound he goes after," coach Michael Jordan. He definately lived up to his own goals. His mother showed us all the notes Josh had written to her as he grew up. Many of them mentioned food. "Breakfast was good," one note said. We got to look at albums full of pictures of Josh from birth, until death. I gave her the scrapbook I had stayed up making of Josh's year at ACU. She couldn't look at it just yet, but Josh's dad Brig, Elizabeth and younger brother Harrison looked through it some. Elizabeth brought out a picture of Josh dressed up as a ballerina. I'm sure he would have died if he knew he were being shown off in a tutu and lipstick!
His mom said she was a little worried about cooking after all the bragging Josh had done about our food, but we had delicious brisket sandwiches, potato salad, chips and the best pink lemonade I've had. We sat around talking about Josh and remembering him. I think Josh and I might have been similar as children. We had several of the same toys, a red wagon, a cozy coupe and a clippity-clop horse. We were both into things and picked weeds for flowers for our mothers. I got to think of things and share things I had almost forgotten. We talked about Josh locking himself out of the house at Christmas and breaking in with a credit card. His mom mentioned how much the little presents we had for them on Christmas Eve meant and I had almost forgotten we gave them anything. I got to remember Josh in class and at home. I got to see his fish tank. I went with his sister to see his room. All his clothes and pictures and his wakeboard were still there. It was as if we were on vacation.
Just before desert, we called his voicemail, just to hear his voice one last time. "This is Josh Bigby and I need money." It brought a smile to my face. I got to laugh and remember the times I had conversations with his voicemail because it use to say, "Hello.....Who is this again....Ok, can you hang on for just a second...." You then realized, after hearing the automated voice come on with instructions, that you had been duped. I remembered Josh had hung up on me one time because he said "hello" and I didn't say anything thinking I had his voicemail.
We finally heard the details of the wreck. My mom and I both being very detail oriented probably needed to hear what was said. His cousin had missed a stop sign, hitting his brakes to late and ran in between the two trailers being carried by the semi. Josh died quickly. He did not suffer.
After the sharing of some scripture, it was time to say good-bye to the family and drive to the cemetary. Josh's mom gave me some things, a memorial from the funeral, an e-mail and a letter she had written about Josh. Josh's sister and I exchanged e-mail addresses and she gave me a wallet size picture of Josh (a cutout of the one of him and me). We hugged and were told to come back anytime.
We followed Josh's dad out to the cemetary. It was out in the country. We walked towards the back corner and came to Josh's grave. So far the tears had remained inside as best they could, but the fresh dirt and flowers and little place marker took their toll and the tears began to flow. We all stood together for a minute and then I told my mom I wanted a minute. I walked up towards his grave and stood at the foot for a minute, then I walked up towards the head and squatted down. Somehow, strangely, in that moment I felt very close to Josh. I felt as though he were right there and knew I had come to say good-bye. I sat there, crying, for a few minutes, then placed the letter and picture I had brought (part of my therapy) under a clump of dirt I thought would hold them. Josh's grandmother had come up. I stood with her, hugged her, cried with her. As we were getting ready to leave, I went back over to his grave. I knelt one more time and place my hand on a clump of dirt as though I were touching his hand. I cried some more, but then I said in a soft whisper "I love you. Bye Josh." I had to tell my friend good-bye and that was probably the hardest part.
Josh's dad took us up to the hunting cabin he and Josh had been working on. One of the last things Josh had done was caulk the spaces in between the boards of the hardwood floor. His dad remembered coming back to see it and thinking, "I wonder how much of a mess the boy made," but Josh had done a good job. Josh had already claimed the master bedroom. His dad told us you could tell this was the last place Josh had been because his weights were there and he took them with him everywhere. The house sits up high on the top of a hill, and you can see forever. His dad told us about plans for the sun deck and the hot tub and how sometimes you could find Josh just sitting outside looking at the stars. It was probably his favorite place to be and it was easy to see why. It was snuggled in nature, peaceful and away from it all.
Josh's clothes all still hung at equal distances apart on the clothes rack. His basketball shoes hung on one of the boards. All of his things, including the TV, from Abilene were there. I saw the Nutcracker his mom had gotten him for Christmas. It was a basketball player wearing #34. I played with it for a second, opening and closing the mouth. I knew this place, like myself, would never be the same for having known Josh.
Though I will probably go back, this was the trip to say good-bye. It was a time of healing and growing. It was a time of tears and a time of laughter. It was a time of remembering and mourning. It was a bitter-sweet blessing. I love that family. I love Elizabeth and Harrison. I love Pam. I love Brig. I'm glad that I know them because of Josh. He is still bringing joy even if he is gone.
There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die...a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance...
-Ecclesiastes 3
I began this post on Monday, May 22, it just took me a while to finish
We pulled up to the house about 12:30 p.m. and were greeted by Tank (Elizabeth's pit bull) and the chow. Josh's dad met us outside and showed us up the stairs to the deck. Their house sat right on the lake. It was beautiful and peaceful. I could see why Josh loved this place. We met Elizabeth, Josh's sister. Josh's mom came outside and her first thoughts to me were, "Wow! You're so tiny!!" At first I thought it was just because their family is tall, nobody much under 5'9" and I'm only shy of 5'4". After we returned home, I realized it might also have had to do with the only picture she had seen of me. It is the picture of Josh and me. Josh was 6'6" and in the picture the top of my head is about even with his eyes. She probably was expecting a very tall girl, about 6'2" but the picture doesn't show that Josh was sitting on a rail.
We walked inside and were met with a dining room table full of Josh. There were pictures and articles about him from the time he was just a child. There was a basketball card he had drawn of himself. On the back it had all his statistics and a quote "Josh is a man who gets almost every rebound he goes after," coach Michael Jordan. He definately lived up to his own goals. His mother showed us all the notes Josh had written to her as he grew up. Many of them mentioned food. "Breakfast was good," one note said. We got to look at albums full of pictures of Josh from birth, until death. I gave her the scrapbook I had stayed up making of Josh's year at ACU. She couldn't look at it just yet, but Josh's dad Brig, Elizabeth and younger brother Harrison looked through it some. Elizabeth brought out a picture of Josh dressed up as a ballerina. I'm sure he would have died if he knew he were being shown off in a tutu and lipstick!
His mom said she was a little worried about cooking after all the bragging Josh had done about our food, but we had delicious brisket sandwiches, potato salad, chips and the best pink lemonade I've had. We sat around talking about Josh and remembering him. I think Josh and I might have been similar as children. We had several of the same toys, a red wagon, a cozy coupe and a clippity-clop horse. We were both into things and picked weeds for flowers for our mothers. I got to think of things and share things I had almost forgotten. We talked about Josh locking himself out of the house at Christmas and breaking in with a credit card. His mom mentioned how much the little presents we had for them on Christmas Eve meant and I had almost forgotten we gave them anything. I got to remember Josh in class and at home. I got to see his fish tank. I went with his sister to see his room. All his clothes and pictures and his wakeboard were still there. It was as if we were on vacation.
Just before desert, we called his voicemail, just to hear his voice one last time. "This is Josh Bigby and I need money." It brought a smile to my face. I got to laugh and remember the times I had conversations with his voicemail because it use to say, "Hello.....Who is this again....Ok, can you hang on for just a second...." You then realized, after hearing the automated voice come on with instructions, that you had been duped. I remembered Josh had hung up on me one time because he said "hello" and I didn't say anything thinking I had his voicemail.
We finally heard the details of the wreck. My mom and I both being very detail oriented probably needed to hear what was said. His cousin had missed a stop sign, hitting his brakes to late and ran in between the two trailers being carried by the semi. Josh died quickly. He did not suffer.
After the sharing of some scripture, it was time to say good-bye to the family and drive to the cemetary. Josh's mom gave me some things, a memorial from the funeral, an e-mail and a letter she had written about Josh. Josh's sister and I exchanged e-mail addresses and she gave me a wallet size picture of Josh (a cutout of the one of him and me). We hugged and were told to come back anytime.
We followed Josh's dad out to the cemetary. It was out in the country. We walked towards the back corner and came to Josh's grave. So far the tears had remained inside as best they could, but the fresh dirt and flowers and little place marker took their toll and the tears began to flow. We all stood together for a minute and then I told my mom I wanted a minute. I walked up towards his grave and stood at the foot for a minute, then I walked up towards the head and squatted down. Somehow, strangely, in that moment I felt very close to Josh. I felt as though he were right there and knew I had come to say good-bye. I sat there, crying, for a few minutes, then placed the letter and picture I had brought (part of my therapy) under a clump of dirt I thought would hold them. Josh's grandmother had come up. I stood with her, hugged her, cried with her. As we were getting ready to leave, I went back over to his grave. I knelt one more time and place my hand on a clump of dirt as though I were touching his hand. I cried some more, but then I said in a soft whisper "I love you. Bye Josh." I had to tell my friend good-bye and that was probably the hardest part.
Josh's dad took us up to the hunting cabin he and Josh had been working on. One of the last things Josh had done was caulk the spaces in between the boards of the hardwood floor. His dad remembered coming back to see it and thinking, "I wonder how much of a mess the boy made," but Josh had done a good job. Josh had already claimed the master bedroom. His dad told us you could tell this was the last place Josh had been because his weights were there and he took them with him everywhere. The house sits up high on the top of a hill, and you can see forever. His dad told us about plans for the sun deck and the hot tub and how sometimes you could find Josh just sitting outside looking at the stars. It was probably his favorite place to be and it was easy to see why. It was snuggled in nature, peaceful and away from it all.
Josh's clothes all still hung at equal distances apart on the clothes rack. His basketball shoes hung on one of the boards. All of his things, including the TV, from Abilene were there. I saw the Nutcracker his mom had gotten him for Christmas. It was a basketball player wearing #34. I played with it for a second, opening and closing the mouth. I knew this place, like myself, would never be the same for having known Josh.
Though I will probably go back, this was the trip to say good-bye. It was a time of healing and growing. It was a time of tears and a time of laughter. It was a time of remembering and mourning. It was a bitter-sweet blessing. I love that family. I love Elizabeth and Harrison. I love Pam. I love Brig. I'm glad that I know them because of Josh. He is still bringing joy even if he is gone.
There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die...a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance...
-Ecclesiastes 3
I began this post on Monday, May 22, it just took me a while to finish
posted by Tori Watson @ 11:18 PM
2 Comments:
At 8:00 PM,
pawatson said…
I love you, Sweetie. What a blessed tribute to Josh and his family. I'm so proud of you.
At 9:13 AM,
Katie said…
I love you too, Tori. I'm so sorry for your loss. You were brave to go and say good-bye, and his family will love yours forever because y'all loved him. You guys are good at loving people. I love you. I'll see you soon.
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