Reflexivity

Christi imagined a piece of Alec’s spirit in each balloon, including the parts of him held by and given to each person present. I thought of the pace of their departure, the wind picked them up so fast! I imagined their speed parallel with the way Alec lived, not that he was always in a rush, but once that boy had decided there was no hesitation.
The weekend passed quickly, wedged between hectic work weeks for all of us. Yet the picnic at Alec’s gravesite flowed leisurely. The steady stream of arrivals began at one pm and continued until the release an hour-and-a-half later.
The mood was at turns festive, contemplative, sad, and peaceful. The day itself was beautiful. Uncle Dick, all the way from Port Angeles, WA, offered some remarks. Many in the crowd were probably unaware that his daughter, our cousin Saundra, died of leukemia when she was twenty. (Her memory is celebrated annually by the Peninsula Tennis Club.)
Uncle Dick shared some thoughts with us from an article by Mark A. Lorenson, You Can Not Lose the Ones You Love, which challenges the “conventional wisdom” that “we miss the ones we love” (47). Applying the philosophy that “we, through our current beliefs, are actually creating our experience of ‘missing’” (48), Lorenson proposes a reframing which Uncle Dick exhorted us all to try:

I love you and feel your presence.

In all ways, from everyone gathered and those whose thoughts were with us, a fitting tribute.

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We ate breakfast at Deb and Bill’s Cafe in Belton, Missouri. Under surveillance. One neighbor got a map to show us where Carrollton is – Austin is performing there with marching band today. Another neighbor congratulated Rich for finding a way to interrupt her life story. Christi (not one to mess up her schoolwork with doodles) recounted her stress-releasing strategy of making tic marks for each time the chatty nitwit (bless her heart) annoys her in class. Dad selected from “The Lighter Side” portion of the menu – until he learned he could have both corned beef hash and hashbrowns.
We’re wearing bracelets in honor of Alec’s life, celebrating being together on his account.

I have a feeling Alec would have enjoyed the two-seater.

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We had in time in College Writing (first year writing) on Thursday to do a round of check-ins, “What’s best about this class, What’s worst about this class, and something random.” I had not thought about participating (duh) and felt as on-the-spot as some of the students may have when it came to the end and – as a few students insisted – my turn. Alec and this trip to Kansas City was high on my mind, but I was thinking to myself, “No, that’s too personal; telling them might compromise the teacher/student boundary.” The students are interacting well, there was teasing and a fair number of comments and teasing about some of the things people shared. A minute or two before my turn, two of the boys had an exchange and one of them said, “Oh Snap.”
That was my sign to let them know.

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Hunter left the parachute guy for Alec; flowers were placed by Christi’s family. The Mount Moriah Cemetary was popular this Memorial Day.

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We had fallen asleep to the sensory overload of Grievous. Obviously not quite with it, we left five items in the hotel room (all mailed to us free of charge once we realized – days later).
The Aquarium just wasn’t a suitable substitute for that darn boy. We missed his sense of humor throughout the trip. Rumor has it he was good at providing emotional comfort, too.
The drive from Boston to Agawam was quiet. Yummy chili and a couple of rounds of “sets and runs” (modified slightly) took care of the evening.
Alec, pained as we all are, you can rest in peace.
Backdated from January 3, 2007

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Alec’s remains were buried at the Mt. Moriah Cemetary at three this afternoon. Most of the family and many friends attended. Later in the evening, we read through some of Alec’s poems (A Boy, Searching, Mind or Body, When someone dies, Races, Polite… or not), cartoons (Lord Chippy versus Luke Skycrapper), and elementary school writing:

Did the which git
is ulive? what did the chicken bet
the caowboy?
11-17-00
A couple of hours before Alec’s final service, Kelly showed me this powerpoint presentation. It’s a tearjerker. (As if I needed much help to get me started!)
The obituary was published in the Kansas City Star on 9/23/2006:
Our dear son Alec Richard Kent, age 13, passed gently into eternity due to heart failure on September 20, 2006 in Kansas City, MO. Visitation will be from 4-6 p.m. Sunday, September 24, at Red Bridge United Methodist Church, 636 E. 117th St., Kansas City, MO. Services will be held 7 p.m. Monday at the church. Private burial in Mt. Moriah Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests contributions to a memorial fund for Alec c/o Heartland Community Credit Union, 406 E. Bannister Rd., Kansas City, MO, 64131. Born December 30, 1992 in Kansas City, Alec was known to us as the “miracle baby” after surviving the usually fatal Myocarditis as an infant. He would later become an honor student at Center Middle School and receive state recognition and membership through the Duke University Scholastic Achievement program. A musically gifted young man, he excelled not only in his studies, but also in his ability to make friends easily with his infectious laugh and sociability. An active Boy Scout in Troop 46 and member of his youth group at Red Bridge United Methodist Church, he was known by all as a compassionate and helpful young man. Alec is survived by his parents Richard and Christi Kent, his brother, Austin Kent; grandparents Ron and Denise Roberts, grandparents David and Elaine Kent; great-grandparents Woodford and Joyce Roberts, uncle and aunt Mark and Amy Roberts, uncle Nicholas Roberts, and aunt Stephanie Kent. (Arrangements: Mt. Moriah & Freeman Chapel (816) 942-2004)

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“Alec had an accident on the trampoline. He did not survive. He passed away.” My brother’s tone on voicemail was steady but laced with agony. I faltered, walking from interpreting linear algebra to a course director meeting. “We don’t know what we’re doing yet. It just happened six hours ago. We’re calling to let everyone know.”
What can I do? I observed myself struggle. Sit down? Stop? Really? There was no doubting the certainty or emotion in my brother’s voice. Alec was gone. Just like that. An accident? Images of blood and gore flashed through my mind. What happened? It didn’t make sense. What should I do? More to the point, what could I do? I had to teach in 3 hours. I had to meet with my peer teachers and Course Director in 20 minutes. Bail? Obligation….keep moving…I need those printouts. I ask a colleague in the computer lab, “Can you help me find Word? The icon is gone.” I try to think through the fog.
The CD meeting unfolds around me. “Let’s open with a freewrite, since it’s something we ask our students to do.” I write. They move on; I keep writing. Have to get there…start sending emails, practical info only. This happened; I need to come. Can you pick me up at the airport? Can I stay with you? Search airfares, schedule. Bits of my peers’ conversation drifts into consciousness, “How do I get my students engaged?” I am no use to any of them today. Finally the meeting ends. I have two hours; it is a beautiful day. I call my sister-in-law. “This is a voice I’ve been waiting to hear,” she says.

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Yesterday I relaxed. Spent time with friends. Walked in the woods. Ate good food. Saw a decidedly unedifying movie. Stayed up too late. Have been considering when to post about Alec – my experience of hearing the news, the moments that bit the worst . . . etc.
It is beautiful late summer/early fall: shorts-weather yet the trees begin to burst with color.

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Today, the hometown newspaper ran a spread on Alec.

PHOTO COURTESY OF THE FAMILY
Often, family members would find Alec Kent (left) huddled over one of his sketchbooks. He is shown here at a birthday party with his brother, Austin Kent.

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The Rev. Bart Hildreth credited one of Alec’s uncles with saying he could make friends with a doorknob. It was one of many comments that elicited laughter from everyone gathered to commemorate Alec’s life. A bunch of people liked my words,
but there is no doubt that Charlie gave the best speech.
(If you’ve ever listened to him playing videogames you might be amazed at his range.)
I told one of my best friends that it was as hard to come back to Amherst as it was to go to Kansas City. “It crashes in, I know,” she said. The long slog of adjustment begins. Our lives will always be different, now. It isn’t just the fact of Alec’s death that causes the change, it is the meaningfulness his death creates, a meaningfulness possible only because of his life. “Were you close?” another friend asked on learning the news. A reasonable question, since most of my friends know my family hasn’t been all that tight. I couldn’t muster an answer at the time; it seemed a “yes” required an explanation and I didn’t have the energy or the words. Now, I respond with confidence:
Yes, and we’re closer now than we were before. Besides, a couple of the girls who spoke at the funeral said Alec told them “he grew out his hair because it annoyed people.” Obviously we are kin.

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