The three Rob(b)s
I lost a friend yesterday who really was like a brother to me. We used to joke around that we were soul brothers (even though we were as white as albacore tuna—okay, my friend, like my wife, was one of those olive-skinned sun worshipers, and used to get pretty darn dark-skinned). The point is, at a soul level, he and I were truly brothers. Sometimes it would be a year between seeing each other, and we weren’t much on Facebook chatting with lives busy enough (and being MEN, of course) that we saw each other at the “appropriate” times.
As most who have such close friends, these things have nothing to do with each other. Even had I not seen Robb in twenty years, the second we were together it would be as if we were thin again, up and down the basketball court, shredding the net just like the glory days.
Regardless of how commonplace such news may become as we move into our true twilight years, I am 48, and my friend was 48, and that is too young. Worse, their family had just last another son recently to pancreatic cancer (a son younger still). Having lost a child myself in 2008, I know firsthand the horror of a parent outliving a child, but two children? And this mother—this mother who has now lost both her sons—her husband of nearly fifty years died not five years past.
Times like these warrant the questions. They test every microfiber of faith we have inside us. When will the storm end? I don’t want this to be about me but I can’t stop thinking about losing my friend. Another good, lifelong friend told me when she saw Robb last year the deepest sadness he felt was not the loss of his brother as much as it was his mother having lost her son.
Every time my wife comes home and I see her again I think about the same thing, even if for only a fleeting instance. She is a mother first and foremost, it is simply how we as human beings are wired. Another mother who has lost a son.
It is the UNnatural order of things for a parent to lose a child. To me it is inexplicable. I was born in Waterloo, Iowa, from whence came the five Sullivan brothers who died together in the sinking of the USS Juneau in WWII—the incident that inspired, in part, the 1998 movie Saving Private Ryan. I remember growing up hearing the story from my grandparents (who lived in Waterloo most their lives and all of my mother’s) and even then, as a young child, wondering how it could happen that a mother be put to so much of a test and go through such unthinkable heartache.
I will miss my friend dearly. There was far too much life in front of us for him to be gone already; too much time for me to wonder about why it is I can’t see him each summer. My thirtieth class reunion is in July and one of the things highest on my list of things I was looking forward to was spending time with my dear friend. Please remember, they may call it mid-life but it’s never too soon to make those visits, those emails, or those phone calls more frequent.
Rest in peace, Robb.
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I purposely do not discuss religion, my own views, etc. on this blog (or anywhere; they are personal to each of us). But of course not a day passes without me thinking of my son Brody’s passing, and the song below by Third Day (Sound of Your Voice) always helps me feel better about life in general, and the truly spectacular videography of this version really adds to that uplifting aura.
I can’t explain why this particular song really plugs into my soul—I never think about it specifically; there are quite a few Third Day songs higher on my “favorites” list—but if it helps uplift the spirit of anyone out there who is hurting and could use some strengthening of their own hearts at this time in their life, then it’s worth posting it.
Rob, your words are beautiful. I really don’t know what I can say. I am so sorry for everyone! Robb was a great man and will be very missed. I have been thinking a lot about you and your wife losing a child, and about Gay and what she must be going through. You are right, no parent should ever have to experience such a loss. Thank you for your blog, keep writing. I am praying for comfort for all. God bless!
Thank you so much, Debbie. I am still so crushed over this, most especially for Gaye having now lost two sons. Your words here really help and are a reminder of what a tremendous community we call “home”. Great people who come together and help each other when tragedy hits. Please give my best to you whole family! 🙂
Rob, This was such a wonderful memorial to Robb and his family. Believe it or not, I have not been able to get Gaye off my mind the last two days. You know, the Fletchers were the first family that my family met when we moved to Pinedale in 1978. They have remained such a happy memory of of high school years and after. I had the privilage of seeing Robb quite often over the last fifteen years. He always smiled his smile and asked how I was doing. We enjoyed catching up with other friends we had seen or heard from. He was a great man and friend and will be missed by everyone who knew him. I plan on being at his service so I can give Gaye and big hug and tell her she raised wonderful children! Thank you for sharing this Rob…..you are a wonderful writer. My thoughts are with you and your beautiful wife as well, Sandy Toland
Your comment here, like Debbie’s, just reminds me what a great sense of community Pinedale and its surrounding area have and how much everyone still cares after whatever number of years. Doesn’t matter. We’re all still there for each other. Please tell Gaye that I love her and am so grief-stricken not just for losing my close friend and brother but knowing how near-impossible it is for a parent to lose one child, as Amy and I, let alone two.
Hug her doubly hard for me, too. And thank you again for the kind words. I miss Robb already. I was thinking just before bed last night about the reunion this summer and out of the blue broke down because it hit me again. He will be so sorely missed—as you said, such a happy, friendly, gracious soul. All my best, Sandy. Rob
You have a way with words Robb! So true are the words you have spoke from your heart. I too, feel for Gaye and I start to cry when I think about her loss. I know as a mom how hard it is to out live a child, let alone two. My heart goes out to all of Robb’s family and all of his friends.
Thanks for commenting with such kind words, Dana. Having lost a son, I don’t know how you even begin to deal with the loss of a second. AND Gaye lost her companion…it is hard to see the fairness in God’s plan sometimes.
Rob you honored our friend with words that help ease the pain for all of us. Gaye, Jean, and Holli have been in my prayers since I found out last night. Before I moved back to Pinedale I would describe to people how the atmosphere in our small town is. I would explain to them it was like the theme song from “Cheers”:
“Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.
Wouldn’t you like to get away?
Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
and they’re always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.
You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows
your name. ”
Today, this song seems especially fitting for me. Reading all the messages makes me feel closer to all of you. AND Rob you reminded me to make more of an effort to reach out to old friends. I am not good at that but each of them are special to me at so many different levels, you as well Rob. Take care and may we all find some peace.
Julie
Thanks so much for that comment, Julie and I LOVE the lyrics from Cheers—you could just as easily be talking about Pinedale. It is hard sometimes to stay in touc; even with Robb, I knew I’d be seeing him this summer so I was waiting to email him in a month and see what his plans were. I shouldn’t have waited. But the other side of this coin is that we all live separate (and busy) lives and great friendships stay just that, whether we talk every day or not for a year. I know every time we come up Amy and I leave having so enjoyed our time with you, your husband, and your family. You always make us feel welcome and my friendship with you makes it just feel like yesterday that we talked our had a cookout or something. So I guess my point is, friends know. Hope to see you in July…we’re definitely planning on coming up!! 🙂
Death is the great equalizer, for sure. I am very sorry for the loss of your friend – and more so – for the incredible loss of your son. As you say, it is UNNATURAL for a parent to survive a child. My parents lost two of their three children and the loss of my older brother was a serious scar on my childhood!
As for your friend, it is really hard when you have that sort of connection. We choose our friends – NOT our family – so when a close friend dies it actually can be harder than when a distant relative or a relative you don’t like passes…ironic, but true…
Thank you for the comment and for the heartfelt condolences, Bruce. Good point about choosing friends. We can end up being closer to our friends (and many times are). Take care and again, I appreciate your words.
Hi Rob. My heartfelt condolences on the loss of your friend, and your son. I agree that it is not the natural order of things for a parent to lose their child. On the 4th of May 2012, my younger brother and I received the news that our brother (15 months older than me) had died while on a motorbike tour through Malawi, Mozambique and Zimbabwe. I was 44 at the time, and had never dealt with personal loss before. The news hit me like a punch to the gut, and even now, I look at his photo and I just can’t get my head around it.
But far worse than the loss was that my younger brother and I had to tell my aged parents (75 and 80) that their eldest son was dead. Witnessing their pain nearly broke me, and even now, their sadness keeps my grief alive.
I’m so sorry about your friend and your son. I came across your blog from A-Z, and I’m so glad I did. You put into words the feelings that I, somehow, don’t express well. Thanks for that. From a fellow bereaved parent and Wyoming native.
Well I’m glad you came across the blog, too, and I am sorry that you are also in our unnatural category of bereaved parents. There truly is nothing more out of synch with nature than a parent losing a child, at any age. Thanks for commenting, Roberta. All the words, they cannot make the pain go away (as we know, nothing can), but they help, inch by inch, and the camaraderie—knowing you aren’t alone—I think that helps, too. Take care and I will have good thoughts for you fighting the good fight. 🙂
You are right. Inch by inch, day by day…and knowing you’re not alone. We get strength from each other until we can stand on our own. You son was beautiful. Thank goodness for pictures. If you ever want to go blog hopping, visit us here. If you scroll to the bottom you’ll see a slideshow of the daughter we lost. Take care, and good thoughts for you fighting the good fight too. http://diamondvilleclarksdennisroberta.blogspot.com
Sorry to hear about that Rob. It’s hard to lose people. I traveled back to the UK this past month for a funeral. I sat beside someone who was also returning for a funeral.
I believe that we will all one day see each other again.
Keep your chin up.
You’re mention of when will the storm end. Reminds me of this song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozb76Kj2vDQ
Thanks much for the comment and sentiments, Jon. Also I love Lifehouse and had not heard that song. I believe we’ll see each other, too. If not, what’s the point of it all? Take care, my friend.