My
Own Story
Jesus
wept. the shortest sentence in the Bible, yet packed
within those two word lies the Heartbeat of His
compassion for those who grieve. When writing about I
feel it is very important that I share with you my
family's journey into the depths of surviving loss and
grief.
Beautiful
Boy
“Pain
and suffering produce a fork in the road. It is not
possible to remain unchanged. To let others or
circumstances dictate your future is to have chosen. To
allow pain to corrode your spirit is to have chosen. And
to be transformed into the image of Christ by these
difficult and trying circumstances is to have chosen.”
Tim
Hansel
“If
I can stop one heart from breaking,
I
shall not live in vain;
If
I can ease one life the aching,
Or
cool one pain,
Or
help one fainting robin
Unto
his nest again,
I
shall not live in vain.”
Emily
Elizabeth Dickinson (1830–1886)
The
first day I walked back into the kitchen, I knew it was
going to be rough but I had no idea how rough it would
be. I dreaded that walk along beach that lead to the
restaurant where I worked. I had spent a lot of hours on
that beach. It ran across the front of the resort and
ended at our condo where we live. I spent many a night,
often in the middle of the night, walking on that beach
and talking to God. At times, I would just sit there, at
the end of the pier, staring out at the stars that lit
up the
Tampa
Bay
sky. I was searching for answers. My heart was in pain.
I dreaded going back to work. My mind was a million
miles away. I was an emotional wreck. In spite of all
that, I had to get back… if I was going to remain
sane.
My
staff was there with their arms wide open with a warm
welcome as I entered the kitchen. There were lots of
tears and hugs and words of comfort but even to this
day, it all seems like a fog. I had to do this, to bring
some normality back into my life. I needed to clear my
mind and try to be strong for my family’s sake. Boy,
this was going to be tough. They say staying busy will
heal a lot of wounds. I suppose it does, you defiantly
do not want to be paralyzed to the point where life just
stops.
I
went to my office and stared at my monitor. I shuffled
through my mail and tried to get caught up on all the
work I missed. That night we got busy. I rushed to the
line to expedite. I was there a good 20 minutes before I
fall apart. As I stared across the line at my cooks, I
kept seeing, in my minds eye, my son Jamisen. He was
standing there with his black floppy chef’s hat
staring back at me with that ear-to-ear smile of his.
“What’s up Pops?” I heard him say as I tried to
push back the tears. No matter what I did, I couldn’t
get his beautiful face out of my mind. I pushed a few
more orders out of the kitchen, then bam, that memory
flashed across my mind again. There he was, just smiling
at me. That’s when I lost it. I turned to my Sous chef
Bryon, “It’s yours I can’t do it.” I turned and
walked out of the kitchen, headed for home. On the way
back, I stopped at the park, sat on a bench and cried. I
don’t know how long I was there time had disappeared.
You
see, five days earlier, my wife and I, buried our son,
together with my father. Four months earlier, my wife,
and I were sitting on the patio, when we heard the front
door open. To our surprise, Jamisen had walked through
the door. He stood there with an overnight bag strapped
across his shoulder. There was that all too handsome
ear-to-ear-smile again. With a wink and a smile, he
reached over, picked up his mother in a bear-hug
embrace, and gave her a kiss.
“Dad,
mom, can I stay with you guys for awhile?”
I
couldn’t contain myself. I was so pleased to see him.
He was my heartbeat in so many ways. “You bet you can
stay,” I said with a bigger smile. We rolled a bed out
to the living room. “This will work, not too bad, you
got a waterfront view.” Jamisen Liberty Raynaud was
our first born, and boy was he a charmer. He was a man
of many talents as well…, a cook, salesmen,
weight-trainer, and all around entrepreneur…. Sales
was his passion, shoot, he could sell you the shirt off
your back. It was so nice having him home. He was
twenty-four years old but lived a life of a fifty year
old.
Due
to my work and the many business decisions, both good
and poor, in the last twenty-nine years, my family and I
have lived virtually everywhere. Culinary had brought us
from
Michigan
, to
California
, to
Canada
, and back to
California
. We lived on the beach, up in the mountains, and in the
deserts of
Palm Springs
. My career had called again and no longer did we
settled… we were off again… this time up to
Wisconsin, then to Florida, off to Virginia, then back
to Florida, then Texas, Florida again, Minnesota,
Nevada, back to California, then Nevada, and now back in
Florida, where we are firmly planted, and God willing,
will stay for good. When we moved to
Minnesota
, my son was turning seventeen. We decided to keep him
in
Orlando
so he could finish out the school. All our traveling had
taken its toll on Jamie. He decided to park it and stay
in
Orlando
once and for all.
That
afternoon, when Jamie showed up, was the beginning of
the best four months of our lives. It was as if God had
given us our son to recapture all the lost years I had
given up to career. There was an eight-year gap between
Jamisen and his little sister Nicole. They really never
had a chance to grow up together. My son had become a
young father and his
job
in
Orlando
and his commitment to his community kept him planted
where he was. Excluding a month here and there when he
knocked on the door with his overnight bag and a smile.
We hadn’t seen him as much as we wanted or needed.
This
time was a time for catch-up. Nicole and Jamisen
actually became siblings. He would scope-out her
boyfriends and flex his muscles as he explained to them
the definition of “respect.” They would argue, fight
over the lack of hot water in the shower, laughed, go to
the mall, and the movies. Life was good for the two of
them. As for Jan and I, it was awesome. The resort I
work at is a rock throw from your house. Jan worked in
banquets, I worked in culinary, and my son… he went
from working with his mom in banquets, to tending bar,
and then to the kitchen to work with me. He was a good
line cook and I just loved having him near me. I can’t
tell you how many times in the last six years he would
call me up on his cell phone, from the market. He wanted
to cook for his girlfriend Daisy, and he wanted it to be
good. I would verbally walk him through each course, and
its preparation, as he roamed the isles on the other end
of the phone. Then, when he got back to his place, he
would call again, just sure up all the details. He
really didn’t need to brush up – he just wanted to
talk, and be loved, and get some affirmation. I, on the
other hand, would have talked for hours. Oh, how I miss
those phone calls.
We
played basketball, worked out in the gym, watched TV,
went to the movies, and out to dinner. We spent
Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years together. In my
wildest dreams, I could not have planed a better holiday
season.
On
January 15, 2005, Jamisen informed us he was moving back
to
Orlando
… and soon. My heart was breaking at the thought of
him leaving. At the time, I couldn’t tell you why…
he was 24, and been on his own for the last six years,
but inside I had this incredible weight of grief in my
soul. In retrospect, I understand now, but at the time,
I didn’t have a clue. On January 18, I received a
phone call at work. It was my son.
“Hey
Dad… I’m on my way to
Orlando
…”
“So
soon…, why don’t you stay awhile? You don’t have
to leave.”
“Dad,
I got my old
job
back. I start in the morning.”
“You
sure you wana…”
Apologetically
Jamie interrupted, “Dad, I
have to
go….Please tell mom
I love her and
give her a hug. I’ll call tomorrow, when I get home
from work. I love you guys. Don’t forget… Tell
mom I love her.”
“I
will, I will, Drive safe, please.”
Those
were the last words I heard from my son. It was about
4:00 AM when the phone rang. Jan jumped out of bed to
answer. I was half-asleep, almost in a dream state….
Then I heard her voice begin to raise, “What? Yes, it
is… What…” There was a long pause then she cried
out to me in a tone I will never forget, “Fred,
FRED… Its our baby boy!!”
Startled,
I jumped out of bed, instantly, that song by
John
Lennon, “Beautiful Boy,” running through my mind,
every lyric. I hadn’t heard that song in ten years,
but there it was, over and over again.
“Close
your eyes, Have no fear, The monsters gone,
He's
on the run and your daddy's here,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful
Boy…”
I
stood paralyzed as I listened to Jan talking to the
priest on the other end of the phone.
“Our
baby’s hurt
daddy. We GOT to go. Hurry, get Nicole up, we
have to go…” Jan stood their in a total panic,
shaking and crying, then trying to pull herself
together.
Nicole
heard us and knew something was wrong. We threw together
some cloths and ran down to the car. We were all
floating in and out between prayers and tears. It was
all a fog. I was trying to muster up faith to believe it
was going to be ok. I was trying to be strong. Jan did
the same. Nicole was trying so hard not to fall apart;
she put her headphones on and sat numb in the back seat
of the car as we sped down the highway towards
Orlando
. I don’t know how fast I was going. Under normal
conditions, it would take two, maybe two and a half
hours. In between my prayers, all I could hear were the
lyrics of that song….
“Before
you go to sleep, Say a little prayer,
Every
day in every way,
It's
getting better and better,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful
Boy…”
The
drive was a complete daze… every moment fighting the
tears and fears with petitions to God for His healing
grace. We got to the hospital at about 5:30 AM. When we
arrived, there was no place to park. We drove around the
block… then pulled the car over onto the grass and ran
to the ER entrance.
At
the emergency room – a hospital representative and a
priest were there waiting for us, “I’m Father
Donavan… (Not his real name) I will take you to
him.” He placed his arm around Jan’s shoulder and
comforted her as he led us to the elevator; “We’re
going to the trauma center on the third floor. We’re
almost there. Hold on.” Jan’s body was shacking
uncontrollably. My wife grabbed hold of the father’s
arm and almost collapsed, shaking and crying.
When
we got upstairs, we saw Rob, my son’s best friend, and
his dad standing there. All we could do was hug him. Rob
was hurting real bad, and he was scared. “What
happened, Rob?” I said.
“It
was an accident, I don’t know.” Rob said, confused
and crying.
They
took us to the trauma center and placed us in a private
room. “Father Donavan said, “Stay
here and I’ll try to get you in to see him now.”
“Where
is he?” I asked. “Take us to him… Now! PLEASE!”
All of us were in a complete state of shock.
Another
priest had entered the room, “I’ll stay with you…
my name is Jonathan, we’ll get you right in there… I
promise!” Daze and confused I sat on the sofa,
broke-down and cried. My wife was shacking couldn’t
even catch her breath. Jonathan put his arm around her
and said, “We can see him now.”
We
walked down the corridor to a door that leads to the
trauma wing, hitting the buzzer to gain access and we
went through the doors. The wing was lined with
glass-enclosed rooms on the left and a long nurse’s
station on the right. The floor had an unforgettable
smell… a medicinal smell that lingered in the air. The
tile walk way went on forever and the paintings on the
walls were flashing by, like billboards on a highway
moving in slow motion. The world had come to a stop and
I felt as if I couldn’t move.
When
we got to Jamisen’s room, he was lying in bed with a
bandage wrapped around his head and machines hocked up
on both side. A nurse was standing at the foot of the
bed greeted us. I walked up and grabbed a hold of his
hand… he was motionless… I was afraid I was going to
hurt him. I didn’t know what to do.
Jan
was holding onto his shoulders, trying to hug him,
whipping his face with her sleeve, “Jamisen… baby…
your going to be fine… we love you so
much, baby… Jamie, sweetie… you have to be ok.”
I
started crying as I rested my head on his chest. I could
hear the sound of his heart beating… it was moving to
the rhythm of the oxygen being forced into his lounges.
His body was warm, almost hot… and his breathing loud.
His eyes were closed and all I saw was his beauty…
Every detail stood out… His long golden lashes and
thick eyebrows, the scar on his arm, his chin and check
bones. “Jamie…, wakeup, please?” I prayed silently
in desperation.
The
nurse let us be, and the priest stood by to comfort us.
In slow motion, I turned my head and looked up at the
nurse, tears rolling down face, “What happened to him?
What is going on?” Anger was starting to rise inside
of me. I felt as if the whole world was ending.
“Well…
he’s been in a terrible accident. A serious trauma has
been inflected to his brain. The doctor is on his way
down here. Ah, he will give you more information.” She
was chocked up as she tried to answer my question.
A
police officer had entered the room, “Hello… Mr. and
Mrs. Raynaud?” he said apologetically, “My name is
Detective Stevens, and I will be investigating your
son’s accident… I am sorry… I will be down the
hall to answer any of your questions when you’re
ready.”
Jan
had recognized him. He was one of the tenants at the
apartment complex Jan managed when we lived in
Orlando
. “I know you… Oh my, I know you.” Jan was, for a
split-second relieved that she knew a familiar face, it
was comforting.
I
stood up and said, “Investigate… What is going on?
What happened to my son?” We were all numb, confused,
and angered. “Tell me what happened!” I said, as I
squeezed Jamisen’s hand in despair.
“Please,
sit down.” He said as Father Jonathan pushed a chair
back towards Jan.
“Tell
me… Please!” Jan said with a broken heart. We were
all in a panic – we had to know what happened, we had
to know now.
“From
what I can gather at this time, your son… he has been
shot and… was struck in the head.” Detective
Stevens, was shaken as he at us trying to explain what
he could, “I am so sorry… I will be right out
side.”
At
that moment the Doctor arrived, “Mr. and Mrs. Raynaud,
I am Doctor Nasaki (not his real name), Head of
Neurosurgery here at the hospital.” He reached out to
shake our hands. “Here’s what we have: Your son has
obtained a serious injury to the lower quadrant of his
brain damaging his brain stem and a good portion of his
brain. The area of the brain struck governs his thought
process as well as his motor functions. We have been
running tests since he arrived and have concluded at
this time he is brain dead.”
“Brain
dead! What does that mean?” I interrupted.
“There
is no activity in the brain, we have run several tests
but are unable to find any activity.” The Doctor
continued, “The state of
Florida
requires conformation from at least two physicians to
determine brain death. We have called in another
specialist to confirm our findings and should have more
information for you in a couple hours. I assure you Mr.
and Mrs. Raynaud; we are doing everything possible. In
the meantime we have your son on a breathing machine and
we are monitoring all his vitals.”
We
stood there paralyzed by the news. All of us were in
complete shock, crying uncontrollably. My heart was
breaking… “Why God Why?” I cried as I held onto
Jamisen not letting him go. I was confused, not knowing
what brain dead meant. I thought it meant a comma, which
he would come out of it when the doctors were done
working on him.
The
family started to arrive. Jan’s folks and her sister
Yvette were the first to get their. Jamie’s grandpa
had almost fainted and they had to put him in a
wheelchair. Yvette embraced Jan squeezing her and crying
together. “What happened honey, is he going… to be
alright?” she could barley get the words out. Jan
started weeping, “It’s going to be ok sweetie…
its’ all going to be fine, Jamisen is going to be
fine.” Yvette wanted to comfort her; she had to help
hold things together.
Rob’s
mom Cindy arrived and took control, being a buffer with
the doctors, police, and friends, anyone that would
cause us to be overwhelmed and distracted. She truly was
an incredible help. She called her husband’s doctor
who had operated on his brain to get a third opinion.
Jamisen’s friends started arriving. There were at
least thirty close friends standing in the hallway, all
crying, wanting to see him and say goodbye. One at a
time, I escorted each one of them to his bedside. Many
of whom I had known since they were all kids, playing
soccer and football together.
The
minuets turned into hours as we sat by his side. It was
all a blur – we didn’t understand why this had
happened. Father Donavan entered the room and knelt down
asking if we wanted something to eat or drink. Jan shook
her head in a daze… “I’m fine.”
I
was resting my head on Jamisen’s chest and whispering
in his ear, “You’re going to be ok….”
Jan
was wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. “Jamie…
can you hear me? Honey… Wake-up baby… wake-up now…
we need you baby.”
A
hospice representative walked in and asked if we could
meet. We walked down to a private meeting room. She sat
us down and looked over at us, “I am so sorry… As
you know, your son was pronounced dead at 3:03.”
“What!!”
I said.
“You
do know he was diagnosed as being brain dead, don’t
you?”
“Yes,
but I didn’t know that meant he was dead, I thought it
was a comma.” We were so confused. She went on and
asked us about his wishes on organ donations. We knew he
would want to help as many people as possible. A year
earlier, he had volunteered to give up a kidney for
Cindy. Nothing ever came of it but he was ready to do it
to ease her pain. In his death, he had saved the lives
of at least ten families that we know of and have
received several heart-felt letters from the recipients.
We signed the papers and let it be so. She said she
would call us when he was out of the operating room. I
shook her hand, turned, and walked away.
When
we got back to Jamie’s room, a priest had come in to
give him his last rights. There we stood, all of us
around his warm body, praying and asking God to receive
him into His presence. For me I knew he was still alive,
that though his brain was dead his spirit was still in
that tent we call a body. The end of the operation was
the moment for that was the moment is spirit would be
released into the presence of his Lord. I looked at him
and those lyrics filled my mind ounce again.
“Close
your eyes, Have no fear, The monsters gone,
He's
on the run and your daddy's here,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful
Boy…”
I
was standing on the patio at our dear friend Marline’s
house when the phone call came in. The surgery was over
– Jamisen was now seated in heaven, and I crumbled.
It’s
been a little over a year when we laid our son to rest.
The weather had kicked up the same as it was when I
penned these words. Tropical storm Alberto was making
its way across the gulf heading for our coastline. I
remember the fear, thinking the storm wasn’t going to
let up. We thought Captain Kendrick was going to cancel
our sea journey. My sister Jean, Greg, my brother Paul,
and their kids, were all there supporting us and doing
anything and everything, they could to help ease our
pain. The next day, on the morning of the 25th, it
cleared. At the church, my nephew Chase read for me the
poem I had written that opened up this chapter. He knew
I was in no state to read anything. After the services -
which are still a blur… we headed to the marina in
Bradenton Beach and boarded a 50 foot Schooner, called
the Frances Crow, with my son, his grandfather Libby,
who had passed almost exactly one year early, family,
and friends.
When
everyone was settled, we headed out to sea. We were
struck by the awesomeness of the change in the weather.
The sun was shining in full strength, the sky was clear
above us and the wind… well it had completely
stopped… as if it was being held back by the hand of
Almighty God. As we cut through the water, making our
way out to sea the ocean was silent before us. My mind
was going a hundred miles an hour… thinking of my
son… thinking of my wife and desperately not wanting
to see her hurt anymore - and my daughter - how gentile
she is - and so young to feel this kind of pain - then
back to my son… and my dad…. I walked around the
boat with a blank look and tried to smile or comfort all
around - but I was a million miles away. I heard that
song continue as the ocean breeze brushed across my
face.
“Out
on the ocean sailing away,
I
can hardly wait, To see you to come of age,
But
I guess we'll both, Just have to be patient,
Yes
it's a long way to go, But in the meantime,
Before
you cross the street, Take my hand,
Life
is just what happens to you, While your busy making
other plans,
Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful
Boy…”
On
January 25, 2005, at 12:25 PM, we arrived at Latitude
North 27°,
25.27 feet and Longitude 82°,
42.58 feet. When we got there, we played Beautiful Boy,
by
John
Lennon, Calling All Angels - a song for my wife, and a
Wonderful World by Louie Armstrong - for my dad. As the
music played, we sprinkled their ashes mingled with the
petals of a hundred flowers into the sea. Everyone had a
flower…. They were all white roses except two
sunflowers - one for Jan the other for myself…. As we
sailed away, the flowers in the water began to circle
our boat. We couldn't believe our eyes, it was as if
they were saying good-bye. We stood there hugging and
crying together. Part of me was almost paralyzed - but
another part was thanking God for His hand that day -
when He blew away the storm. The Lord had stopped the
storm and pulled back the winds… in reception of my
son and my father. It was a day unlike any other… and
a day I will surely never forget.
I
was my son’s age when I buried my mother; she died of
cancer, and my older brother, passed with Aids and
cancer of the brain. It would be 17 years later that the
next wave of loss would arrive. For the two years,
leading up to my son’s passing; my wife and I buried
five extremely close loved ones, the last of which was
my father. I have laid to rest a lot of people in my
life and have seen way too many cemeteries – way too
many to count - but this time… being at sea… with my
son and my dad was unlike any other - sailing away -
into the blue horizon…. No dirt, no holes, just the
heavens above, and the crystal blue water below.
Now,
if you made it this far, you might be asking, what does
all this have to do with “Reflections from the
Kitchen?” Well, I’m going to tell you…. If you
haven’t noticed, this book is about one thing, an
honest relationship with the living God and I suspect
that there may be some readers facing a life and death
situation of their own. There maybe some struggling with
the sickness of a loved one, or even the possible loss
of a loved one. I would guess, as well, that some
readers might not know the Lord, or know him but are
lukewarm and have not given there hearts to him
completely. Listen, this is very important, life is a life and death situation… nothing about
it is lukewarm or something to take lighthearted, so
those who happened to be in an uncommitted state, it’s
time to get with the program and let Jesus be the Lord
of your life.
For
those of you who are experiencing trauma, my heart, and
prayers are with you. Let me share with you from my
heart some thoughts on grief I have discovered. In
reflecting on this - I have learned a few things about
grief.
-
Grief
is an expression and act of love.
-
Grief
is learning to manage and sort through overwhelming
and confusing thoughts, emotions, and pain.
-
Grief
is learning to live with the pain of separation.
-
Since
grief is an expression of love, it is also
proportionate to that love.
-
Grief,
like love, is a holy and personal thing.
-
All
people grieve differently
Some
people have to “get back to work” or “to spend
time doing things with friends” - and all of this is
trying to find ways to keep from sitting and staring at
the horror of loss. All people must avoid to some degree
for the sake of sanity. The fact is that when you loose
someone you are being force-fed an unthinkable reality
that causes the soul to reject the truth with violent
screams of “NO!” even while you’re forcing that
same soul to submit to God. It's like taking a drink
from a fire hose. It’s just too big. The soul’s
negative and extreme reaction to death is normal. Death
was not meant to be a part of life and we are not meant
to deal with it. It is abnormal; it does violence to the
soul. Sin brought death into the human experience and
the human soul cannot ever be content with it. The only
true comfort is the hope of resurrection, reunion, and
eternal life. This is our hope - the only thing that
truly can sustain us - for we are eternal - and this
violation of the soul rubs against our created
nature….
This
is the "food
for thought" of this chapter. I want to
encourage you if you are going through a time of grief,
keep on keeping on, and understand that you are not
alone. Jesus, our great Comforter, is with you and He
will walk you through it, just stay the course. Surround
yourself with those who care about you deeply, they are
there to carry and lift some of the weight and burden
that you are bearing.
In
Dedication…
I
dedicate this section to my son, a cook, a
father, and the heartbeat of my soul. He was a child
born to children. We were young parents and Jamisen was
our heart’s delight and joy. There are so many things
I could have told you about Jamie that if I would wrote
them it would be a book in and of itself…. I will
leave you with this - His life is summed up in five
simple passions:
-
His
Love for his daughter Kayla… Whom he simply
adored, and with every thinking hour, strived to be
near her - now he is with her always.
-
His
love for his family… Which he cherished so deeply
that his passion for us is engraved deeply within
our souls.
-
His
faith in God… Which echoed within the framework of
his very being - and guided his steps as he blazed
through this life.
-
His
love for his friends… Which marked the footprints
of his life.
-
His
self-determination… to live life to the fullest
and plow into every situation - head-on, with no
fear or hesitation.
Jamison
Liberty Raynaud was a melody of our lives, a song
written by his creator pointing us to a higher place. He
was a tune that played within our hearts in times of
trouble or triumph…. His message is that of a life
lesson – his proclamation is on the fragility
of life and purpose. Please see life in all its
fragility and make decisions that respect and honor life
and God’s master plan.
“How
do you describe a shooting star?
A
life, so bright, so fast, so far…
How
do you describe a mighty mountain?
A
heart so big, so wide…, a flowing fountain…
How
go you describe the ocean blue?
A
love so deep, so vast, so true…
How
do you describe this Son of mine?
A
baby, a child, a man so kind…
His
hopes, his dreams, his eternal optimism…
He
loved, he laughed… a glorious prism…
A
caring soul with depth… and vision…
To
help the downtrodden… his heart felt mission…
Jamisen
Liberty was his name…
A
man of distinction, of laughter, of pain…
He
took his lumps, and marched on through life…
A
call to us all in this world of strife…
So
now, he rides on wings from above…
Sheltered
in heaven… nurtured in love…
His
Lord has called him home at last…
To
watch over us all, his final task…
Heavenly
peace has entered his heart…
This,
our example… a place to start…
So
how do I describe this Son of Mine?
An
ocean, a mountain, a shooting star…
A
father, a son, a spirit so far…
So
far away - have you flown…
We
will miss you… my son…
We
love you… we moan…
Please
God… Please… Heal us… We pray…
At
the foot of your throne…
We
will see him some day…”
Fred
Liberty Raynaud
If
you need prayer regarding Grief or Loss please write
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