The Last Picture

I walked out of David’s room to a group of family loudly praying the Divine Mercy chaplet, “David is gone” I said, trying to comprehend the chain of events. Just 72 hours before we thought David had a cold. Just 24 hours before the doctors assured us David would not die. But, now David was dead.

First there was silence, then there was an outpouring of grief from his siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends who were gathered in the hallway. The chaos of the “Code Blue” dissipated as medical staff left rapidly. Nancy and I were ushered out of the room so they could unhook the medical equipment and tubes that seemed to protrude from every point of his body. The stillness in his room pierced my soul. The fight was over.

A few minutes later when they pulled back the curtains there David lay; eyes slightly swollen but otherwise very serene. I wasn't dreaming this, David was gone. Nancy immediately lay her head on his chest and cried uncontrollably for her baby. She looked up at me with eyes pleading to tell her it was a mistake. To tell her that David was ok and would be home soon and take his place back with his family. I put my lips on his cheek because the breathing tube was still in place. I stroked his hair and kissed his cheeks, my tears mixing with the perspiration that still covered his warm face. Through my tears I told David how much I loved him but it was time for him to go home.

Each sibling took a turn with David, some embraced him, others just looked but all cried with a pain so deep it cannot be described. Our youngest AJ looked at David with sadness and concern. Then came his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, cousins and friends, even nurses. David was a king in repose.

Because an autopsy was ordered we had four hours with David as we waited for a crew to transport his body to Washington U. Medical School. During that time David was never alone, kept company by the many who loved him. Fr. Jay Alvarez, an Opus Dei priest arrived and anointed David’s body and said prayers for his soul.

As the time drew near for us to leave many came and said their final goodbyes to David. AJ entered the room last and said he wanted to hug David. He approached quietly and put his head on David’s stomach with his arms out as wide as they would go and there he lay without moving for a very long time.

Most of the family were gone when the crew arrived to take David’s body and it was pretty quiet. We asked them to wait outside as we held David and kissed him one last time. As we were leaving Nancy and I decided to take one last picture with David. We held up his enormous hand in ours and held it lovingly for this picture.

The Gunsmith

From the time David was a kid there wasn’t anything he would not take apart. The only problem was there wasn’t much he could put back together either. I lost track of the broken printers, VCRs, computers, toys, tools and appliances that David meticulously took apart in the dining room where they would sit until I threw them in the trash. David had a need to know how things worked because he was intensely curious. I used to tease him that “there’s no money in just taking things apart”.

When David was in second grade he was diagnosed with audio and aural learning disabilities. The experts said he was highly intelligent but would always struggle with processing thoughts into words or putting teacher’s words into actions and struggle he did. Nearly every night you would find David and Nancy at the dining room table as she patiently helped him finish his homework, taking hours with what others would finish quickly. Traditional school would never be easy but David always worked hard and never lost his optimism. He never complained.

After high school David had no idea what he wanted to do so we encouraged him to enroll in the local junior college which he did without much enthusiasm. He got decent grades but after one semester he said he did not want to go back. We wouldn’t force him to go but Nancy and I worried about David finding something that would make him happy in life. We talked about careers but nothing seemed to jump out at him.

David soon got a job as a security guard and for two years spent every day sitting in his car or a guard tower at the Chrysler plant. He was a model employee, never late and very conscientious of his responsibilities. The solitude suited him fine and it gave him a chance to tinker. I lost track of the odd things crafted of tape, glue, cardboard, scrap metal and pieces of scrap wire we would find in the car. They always made me laugh because it was so David.

One day I sat David down and I said “how do you like your job?” and he said he didn’t, it was boring. I said “do you want to be 50 years old still making 8 bucks an hour?” He gave me the David smile and said “no”. I then said it was time for him to find a career and I would get him into any trade he wanted all he needed to do was pick one. But, nothing jumped out at him until the day his grandmother came over with an idea.

David had been around guns since he was a baby and had been hunting since he was old enough to follow me into the fields. One day his grandmother said that she and grandpa wondered why he didn’t become a gunsmith. It combined everything David loved; hunting, guns, tinkering and sitting. I remember the response, it was immediate and heartwarming. David became very excited and asked if I would help him find out how to become a gunsmith. He knew immediately that this is what he was meant to do.

Together we researched gunsmith schools and David selected and was accepted into the Colorado School of Trades in Denver, considered the best gunsmith school in the country. Yet, as excited as David was, he delayed his entry six months when he found out I was going to Iraq again. Always selfless he wanted to spend the last few months with me.

In July 2006, just before I shipped off, his grandfather and I took him to school and set him up in his first apartment. I was anxious because he was so excited by the prospect of becoming a gunsmith I didn’t want him to struggle in school and be disappointed. Nancy told me to relax, David would be fine and rather than struggle he excelled.

I got periodic emails updating me on where they were in the school curriculum; tool making, metal working, stock refinishing, repair. He would send me pictures of his work in school and I was always grateful for his grandparent’s encouragement to pursue gunsmithing. David graduated in October 2007 with an enthusiasm we had not seen before.

I will never forget when he got his first job how proud he was when he sent me his new business card; David Lozano, Gunsmith. David’s work was beautiful and it was clear he not only loved what he did, he was destined to become an artisan. What more could parents want? He had found a vocation that brought him joy.

Snow Angels

David loved the snow. From the time he was a kid until just this past winter he was usually the first out the door dragging along anyone who would go for sledding, building a snowman or an old fashioned snow ball fight. His time in Wisconsin and Colorado were school and work but he called us almost daily with “snow reports” and would regale us with stories of how high the snow was or how cold it was or the dangers of driving through foot deep snow. What I remember most was the site of David coming in exhausted with his younger siblings; wet and laughing.

David also loved making snow angels when he was a kid. He’d lie on his back and flail around with a look of pure joy then step back and look at us with a big smile. When someone dies you won’t remember the big events but the countless ways your lives were intertwined daily; a smile, a laugh, a smell, a place at the dinner table, a favorite phrase, a kiss on the forehead. It is at these moments that you encounter your loss at its greatest. Like a snow angel I can look and see he’s not there but he left an impression and is standing by next to me smiling at his work.

The other morning I was sitting at the computer early in the morning which is my “quiet time”. I heard the stairs creaking and my heart leapt. For just a split second I thought it was David because he was always the first up after me. When I realized it wouldn’t be him I began to cry. He’d always come lumbering down with sleep still in his eyes. We’d talk for just a few seconds before he’d plop on the coach to watch one of his cheesy science fiction shows the other kids would razz him about.

I cherish these brief encounters with my family. Take the time to build and remember these small moments in your lives. Look your family in the eye and say “I love you”, heal wounds, never leave anything for tomorrow, go to church as a family, take a day off and take your kids to the park, take a thousand pictures, give hugs and kisses until people tell you to stop because you’re embarrassing them.

While we usually live in the moment we do not give much thought to death and the fact that we may not get another day. David is gone but we cherish the many memories we have of him and he will live on with and within us. Live every day in such a way that you will never have to utter “I wish I had…” and live each day as if today you are meeting God.

Driving a Cloud

On July 31 Nancy and I lost our 24 year old son David to multi-organ failure of yet undetermined origin. David was the eldest of 7 and a beloved presence in our large family. In life he was quiet and gentle with a heart as big as his body. His sudden death has profoundly changed our lives and lead to an outpouring of grief from the many people our gentle giant touched.

David was close to all his siblings but he had a special bond with his youngest brother "AJ", who was 18 years younger than him. AJ was his shadow and wherever David was AJ was sure to be also. There wasn't anything David would not do for his brother and especially delighted in taking him to the swimming pool, the movies and the park. David was more of a father to AJ than many biological fathers are to their children.

Not long after David died my other sons were discussing going down to the family cabin in the Ozarks to remember their big brother. The "farm" as we call it was David's favorite place on earth. He loved the peace, the solitude and the beauty of our isolated Ozark property. David loved to hunt and trout fish and target shoot, but mostly he loved to be alone there. It was there that he dreamed of opening a gunsmith shop and living. David found joy in nearly everything but it was here that he found complete contentment.

As the boys were discussing the trip AJ said "David is coming with us". The boys looked at him and said with sadness "No he isn't AJ, David is gone" to which AJ answered with certainty, "Yes he is, he'll be driving a cloud".

This blog is dedicated to remembering David and dealing with grief and finding the meaning in the brief life of a beautiful child of God.