THE BROKEN_PLACES

Saint Paul, Minnesota Chapter

"We Need Not Walk Alone"

The Broken Places

“If I am what I do, and I don’t, then I’m not.”

These words have been spinning around in my head ever since I heard someone comment on how we tend to define ourselves by what we do, rather than by who we are. I thought about those words incessantly almost to the point where they became nonsensical. But they aren’t.

Until April 25, 1987, the day of my son Bryan’s death, I’m afraid I was guilty of defining myself by my roles in life: computer marketer, husband, Father – and without really being aware of it, most often in that order. I was caught up with “bring home the bacon,” “making a name for myself,” and the tunnel vision that goes with all of that. My sense of self-worth was wrapped up with these things. One of my colleagues used to call me “Rapid Robert” because of my pace in going places – or was it a treadmill? I was a workaholic, and only too often by the time I’d gotten around to family matters, I’d run out of steam.

Then my son Bryan died. The superficiality of my life smashed headlong into a brick wall. For months I felt I was sitting in the middle of a field scattered with pieces of my life: job pieces askew here, family relationships trailing off there, dreams piled akimbo over here, hopes rent asunder over there.

As I listened to my son’s friends at the two remembrances for him, it dawned on me that at 19, a young man doesn’t have a long list of credits and accomplishments. Bryan hadn’t “made a name for himself.” Bryan was Bryan, no more, no less. His many friends love him for who he was, not what he was.

Stranger the lessons

Fathers learn from sons-

To care

To share

To be there…

I wrote these words blinded by pain, and I could sense what it was that brought together people from all over in a common bond of shared grief – Bryan cared about them. I wondered if I was to die suddenly, but after more than fifty years of life, how would I be eulogized?” I’d settle for two words: “He cared.”

I’ve tried to put the pieces of my life back together again, but I’ve tried to be selective. I’ve left many pieces lying in that field because they don’t fit anymore. And I’ve fashioned some new pieces, each in some way inspired by the lesson of Bryan’s life.

Hemingway wrote, “Sooner or later life breaks everyone, but afterwards some are stronger at the broken places.” I’ve tried to put the pieces of my life back together selectively. I’ve fashioned new pieces. Some pieces no longer fit. As bereaved parents, we have a choice: We can fixate on the death, or we can affirm life. I know which my son would have wanted for me.

~Bob Rosenberger – TCF, Burke, VA

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