where to begin

Since Christmas I have found myself in bits of conversations that have gone something like, "Well, it'll be ten years this summer." "Does that seem right, ten years?" Or, "Are you going to do anything special for the ten year anniversary?" "What should we do?"


I personally can't believe that it's been TEN YEARS. And there are about a million ways that I'd love to spend commemorating Sam, but it seems that the blog is going to be the way that most people can access. The flotilla down the Mississippi seems a little rushed, as would a epic arctic journey or a trip to China. So I'll probably sit at home, drink some good brew, and share stories with those that are around.


I welcome anyone to join me in this cyber commemoration - did we even have blogs ten years ago?


And please pass this along to others.

Sarah Jane

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Today I was thinking "My son is going to die one week from today..." Wierd, I know. But the thing is, he was so alive a week before he died. He was involved and talkative and had just graduated from a place where he loved the people and was looking forward to summer wilderness adventure and an international journey. Who would have ever guessed that - at that time - he could die? And now he's dead, even though each year at this time I think about him so much - and those last days - which I didn't know at the time were going to be so darn important to me. I would love to hear stories from other people of how he touched their lives. At the time of his death I listened to everyone and was a bit numb. Now I am ready to hear. - this post is by jan keaveny (facilitated by mrs. hopper)
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1 comment:

Nathan Hunstad said...

Sam and I were very different in a lot of ways. But deep down, I think we thought pretty similarly, enough so that I tended to think of him as an extension of my conscience: when I talked things through with him, we'd nearly always end up in the same place, whether or not I wanted to get there. It is this characteristic of him that I miss most.

A week or two before he died, I came up to St. Cloud to hang out with him. We drove around, talked about ladies (he always seemed to have more trouble in that department than a man of his caliber should, but I think it stemmed from his overwhelming love for everybody and his desire to make people happy, two traits that I wish would be more prevalent in the world), and just in general talking about the end of college and where we would be going next. If I remember anything of that trip, it was that Sam was happy. No matter what else was going on, he was in a good place in life and was looking forward to his future adventures. If there was any silver lining to his untimely death, it was that he died living the life that he loved, and that he truly was one of the Good People. Not perfect (who can be?), not knowing all the answers, but trying to get the most out of life and trying to be happy.

I still think about him, of all the things in my life I'd like to share with him, of all the things he would be sharing with me. I hope we'll get to catch up sometime.

May 31, 2010 at 3:19 PM

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