Last week, I took the kids to watch our favorite player, B, as he started his first season of coach pitch. My mom, who attends all of B's games, mentioned she hoped they didn't play there again on Saturday because it was the last field her Nick umped at before he passed away. Her words hit me hard and I choked back tears all the way to the car. There were little boys in baseball uniforms everywhere, and I could picture my brother in his black Jack's uniform smiling at the camera as he put on his catcher's gear.
To be honest, before my mom mentioned it, I didn't realize this week would be the same progression as it was in the year 2002, the year my brother died. Sunday, May 12, 2002, my mom's last Mother's Day with all 3 kids Earth-side. Monday, May 13, 2002, my brother's last day of school, last track meet, last time on a baseball field, and last night sleeping in his own bed. His last normal day. Our family's last normal day. I don't have any specific memories from that Sunday or Monday, because who does have memories of regular, ordinary days, 17 years ago? I do have the picture below of Mother's Day 2002. Wasn't I cute in my Tommy Girl jean jumper? Although I don't have specific memories, my mom told me a little bit about what happened on Monday. My brother went to school like normal in the morning. He had a track meet after school, and went straight from track to ump a little league game. When my mom picked him up, he asked for Spadz pizza because he hadn't eaten between sporting events. I actually don't know if they went or not. I do remember what happened on Tuesday. My brother left the house to catch a ride with a friend and his older brother. Like he did every day. Before he left, I remember wanting to tell him he did a good job at his track meet, but I didn't say anything. Next, I remember hearing sirens but didn't think anything of it until the phone rang. On the other end was the mom of the brothers my brother was going to catch a ride with. She told my mom there was an accident at the corner, and Nick hadn't made it to their house yet. I remember my mom running out the door and I took my younger sister out to the bus stop. I think this is where my need to parent/protect my younger sister started. I feel I pushed aside my own grief for a long time, in my mind, as I tried to hold the family together. I remember watching the scene of the accident from several houses away, I was not aware of the severity of this situation at this point. To mention, my dad was working driving truck and was hours away from home when he got the call. He received a police escort to the hospital and my mom rode in the ambulance with my brother. My sister and I went to school, where I was eventually pulled out of gym class by a family friend and taken to the hospital. We were sat down in a small room where we were told "the news" by our pastor at the time, and scripture was read. I remember not wanting to cry but not being able to help it. I know there was a prayer service for my brother at Calvin Christian Middle School on Tuesday night. My memory tells me I went but I can't say that with certainty. I slept the night at a friend's house, it was her birthday. I still feel guilty about the fact I slept over a friend's house, on her birthday, while my dying brother was in the hospital. Her mom tucked us in her bed together, and read Psalms 23. I felt physically safe that night, but also scared. Wednesday: I went to school the next morning too. The teacher asked for someone to pray. I volunteered in my typical type A fashion. I didn't pray for my own brother, because it felt oddly selfish to me but also maybe because I held out hope. After all, the paramedics told my mom he would be okay. I went to the hospital at some point later that day and remember the social worker engaging my sister and I with different projects that now serve as mementos. We made posters that said "We love you Nick," with a bunch of stickers. The social worker also had bracelets made and impressions of my brothers hands. We went home later, I don't remember saying goodbye to my brother. I don't think an 11-year-old knows how to say goodbye to their brother but I'm sure my parents did their best at letting us know that was the last time we would see our brother. I remember listening to CDs when we got home and my mom's friends staying with us and I think putting us to bed. One of them told me I was a fast typer. Why do I still remember that? Wednesday night: My brother passed away, surrounding by the strongest and most selfless people I know, who Nick Stegeman and I both got to and get to call mom and dad. They decided to donate all of his organs. A decision I am so proud of. I have several emails between Nick's pancreas recipient and I, the only recipient we've had the chance to meet in real life. I have no memories of Thursday morning. As cliche as it sounds, it's all very much a blur from there on out. I have clear memories of a few things. I remember being able to pick something of my brother's to sleep with (a Mike Piazza Mets shirt) and sleeping on my parents's floor for weeks to come. I remember practicing my flute at a close friend's house to play at my brother's memorial service. I wore a red polka dot dress. I remember being taken to every single store in the mall looking for something to wear to my brother's funeral and ended up with a dress I hated, jean on top, yellow floral on bottom. Someone gifted my sister the cutest outfit from either Macy's or Limited Too and I was so jealous. I remember speaking at my brother's funeral. I still have the slip of what I said in my memory box. I talked about watching WWE with him, staying up late on Christmas Eve, and the three made up words he created with my sister. I remember the months to come. Non-stop food, lunches packed for the rest of the school year, cards, flowers, lawn statues, picture frames, Christmas ornaments, did I mention food? The community really rallied around our family and helped us grieve and remember. There were baseball tournaments, golf outings, home run derbies, birthday celebrations, things left his grave, prayers by name in church and at school. We were truly blessed to be loved so well in the hardest time of our family life. I also remember the shift in grieve. To no one's fault, but rather the normal progression of life, I remember it feeling like life was starting to move on in the years to come. Did anyone remember my brother? My loss? I think I felt desperate for attention (something I've been embarrassed about for a long time but when you're used to being the girl who's brother died and literally everyone in the community knows you, to feeling like people forget, it's hard. Even in the past 5 years I've been surprised when I introduce myself by my maiden name to Calvin people and they don't know the story of my brother). 17 years later and sometimes it feels like this never happened. Other times, like when I start writing about it, the tears are leaking out so fast and so hard I can barely see. Who would I be today if I had an older brother? What would my family look like? I miss my brother, and that's weird and tricky because I was 11 when my brother died and he was 13. I'm an adult with 2 kids now, but have parts of my life frozen in time that my mind can go back to instantly. We used to talk through the vents in our rooms on Sundays or when we were sent to our rooms when we were in trouble. He was the first to pick on me but wouldn't let others. He had the biggest smile and loudest laugh. He wore his heart on his sleeve. In 5th grade, he befriended someone who needed a friend and had him over to our house. I remember them playing with these guns that shot out foam discs and laughing so hard. My family all has their own memories, their own things they miss they most. Please, ask them about my brother. It doesn't make us miss him any less or any more than we already do. We have struggled. We have grieved differently. We all have loved and lost, hard. At times, we have become forms of ourselves our present day selves would not recognize. There has been anger, bitterness, hopelessness, darkness, unbearable grief, and so much hurt. There has been comeback, new life, light, joy, and a sense of peace knowing full restoration will be brought when we are together in Heaven. I'm thankful for the comeback. It makes days like today, so much brighter when they used to be standing in church on Mother's Day wondering who was going to lose it first and what emotions would play out throughout the day. That's just the reality of grief. Nicholas Scott Stegeman. I'm thankful for your life, and although my memories are now spotty and infrequent, I know your death, but more importantly the way you lived your life has changed me. Losing you has formed our family into the people in my life I'm proudest of. My dad, my mom, my sister, my grandparents. They are incredible. Thanks for loving with your whole heart, choosing Jesus, and having an unforgettable laugh. I'm missing you a little extra lately and wish you were here to meet my kids.
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Hi! I'm Haley. Archives
May 2019
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