Sunrise with JW

I've felt compelled to come here for four years but have yet to do so until now. It's dark and cold, with the ink black waters of the Potomac River flowing by. It's not, however, as terribly cold as that prior April 7th when four inches of snow had fallen in Southern Maryland.

Although dawn is an hour away, off in the distance are the crew teams methodically propelling their racing shells through the frigid river waters. Some of the rowers are the same age that JW was when they were born.

On the other side of the river is the faint outline of the skyline of Rosslyn, the place where JW lived before moving to the District. Unlike that earlier April 7th which was a Saturday, headlights dance all around as the earliest of commuters head off to work, to include those on the Roosevelt Bridge -- the same route JW

used when he became an against-the-flow commuter -- heading from the nation's capital to the suburbs of Northern Virginia. Overhead, planes bank -- closely hewing to the path of the Potomac as they take off from National Airport for places unknown, to include destinations JW most assuredly travelled to himself be it for business or pleasure.

I am standing at the Watergate -- not the complex of apartments, offices and hotels made famous by the Nixon-era break-in -- but rather the terraced steps west of the Lincoln Memorial from which the Watergate complex derives it's name. The steps were originally planned as the official reception area for dignitaries arriving at Washington, DC via barge, but it was never used for that purpose.

For us, however, the Watergate holds a much greater significance. Traveling painstakingly slow through the snow and following the ambulance that was transporting JW from a hospital in Southern Maryland to one in the District on that April 7th morning, it was at that point shortly before dawn that we saw the ambulance's emergency lights come on. Right then and there we knew that something was dreadfully wrong but even then we did not know how wrong. For it was at that moment -- at that place -- that JW experienced irreversible brain stem compression -- it was at that place and time that our first child, our oldest son, died.

So here I was, four years later, a bouquet of flowers in hand, compelled to come back. At first, I was uncertain as to why but slowly I came to understand. Although on that fateful snowy April day we were no more than 25 feet away following the ambulance in our own car - the fact remains that our son died alone -- surrounded by strangers. Coming back, even four years later, was the closest I could come to entering the back of that ambulance when my son needed me the most - to hold his hand - to stroke his head - to kiss him goodbye.

But as I stood on those steps, watching the dawn break in overcast skies over the Lincoln Memorial, I also knew that whereas JW may have died alone physically -- he knew in no uncertain terms and at the most fundamental level that he was surrounded by and enveloped in the love of his family up to the very end of his life. And as the sky lightened, as the rowers came into clearer focus, as the commuting traffic increased and as more and more airplanes were taking off, and as the skyline of Rosslyn began to reflect the early sun - I knew that I was standing at what has become for me the center of the universe because the world and the life of so many people in it are so very different for the better solely because JW lived -- and most importantly of all, because of the manner in which he lived. And although the foot of those steps may be the place that he died, it is not the place where he ceased to make a difference in the world today. Like ripples in a pond, because he loved and was loved by so many, JW continues today, and for generations to come, to be a positive force in the lives of so many others. His spirit lives on, not only in heaven but here on earth as well.

And by the way, I went by those steps a couple of hours later and the flowers were gone. I seriously doubt that the Park Service would be that quick in picking the flowers up. As such, I'm certain that right now they are giving someone somewhere the pleasure of a bouquet of fresh cut flowers. Somehow, JW just keeps on giving.

Posted by John's Dad