They don't make emoticons for this

Denver was simply a layover location on that long trip home.  A moment in a fog that held the inevitability of what lay beyond at bay.  I held on to the thinking that if we didn't make it home to Oklahoma then the terrible reality of our loss would not, could not, be real.  And so we delayed our departure for as long as we could.

The morning in Denver I woke up to numerous messages on my phone regarding funeral plans, visitation possibilities, notes from friends and family, and the only thing I could do was curl my body into the fetal position and cry.  And then I found myself doing an odd thing, and this happened from the hour we found out we lost Joey on, I pulled myself together and tried to convince Scott that I was okay.  It stopped the tears but felt like I was suffocating.  We all have our ways of coping, or pretending to cope anyway.

We left Denver around 4 or 5:00 that Wednesday and drove through to Oklahoma.  Our check engine light came on at some point in this mad dash and we made a note to get it looked at.  We stumbled into my parents' house at 5:00 AM, just before the sun began its climb over the horizon.  My mom, always on alert, saw that we were safely in, said her hellos, and went back to bed.  Scott and I fell into each other, holding on for life, until we passed out, not to awaken until well after noon later that day.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I found an empty house.  And I realized that I was okay with that.  I needed time to process that I was back in Oklahoma after leaving just weeks before.  I wasn't supposed to be back this quickly but here I was.  I found the obituary laid out for me on the counter in the kitchen, Joey's face in black and white next to man who had lived to be 94.

     Joseph Paul Doyle, 28, passed away suddenly on the morning of July 4, 2010, in Washington, DC.  Joseph was born on August 14, 1981, in Oklahoma City, to John and Paula Doyle.  He attended Yukon High School where he played football and participated in speech & debate, graduating in 2000.  He graduated from the University of Virginia in 2004 with a degree in English Language and Literature and was a rising third-year law student at the College of William & Mary.  He was working this summer at the law firm of King & Spalding inWashington, DC, and planned to study in Madrid this fall. 
     Joseph was an excellent student whose many activities included Model UN and the Jefferson Literary and Debating Society at the University of Virginia, as well as the William & Mary Bill of Rights Journal and the Law School's Election Law Society at the College of William & Mary.  He was also an avid traveler, a lover of books, and a great fan of baseball, soccer, and Evelyn Waugh.
     Joseph is survived by his parents, John and Paula Doyle; his grandmother, Della Fauss; his brother Mark Doyle; his loving companion, Tina Shaughnessy; as well as many friends, family members, colleagues, and fellow students who mourn his passing.  He will be greatly missed by all who knew him.
     Funeral services will be held at 10:30 a.m. on Friday, July 9, at St. Charles Boromeo Catholic Church.  Those who wish to make a donation, in lieu of flowers, may contribute to an endowed bookshelf in his name for the Jefferson Society's rooms at UVA.  
http://www.mercer-adams.com/index.cfm


As I sat, Scott began making arrangements to get the car into the shop.  It was about this point that I began to realize I had been operating on autopilot for a few days.  My internet searches began to revolve around understanding Joey's accident and trying to make sense of it all.  My phone buzzed with the occasional text message as friends began to figure out how the next day would unfold.  I spoke with my mom after reading the obituary as we wondered about the visitation; I had heard that there would be one but it had not been officially announced.  A friend, Keri, had heard that there would be one, although the time was uncertain.  My mom, never one to waffle, called the funeral home and found out that the visitation would precede the service the next day.

Scott found someone who could take the car in and so we left with plans to take care of that, get a drink from Sonic and then head to my sister's house to arrange clothing for the funeral.  After being on the road for a month, we had nothing suitable for funeral services and I had one moment of panic in Denver over this before I realized that it was out of my hands.  I could always get clothing from somewhere.

The exhaust flex pipe going to the catalytic converter had a hole that needed to be repaired.  We were leaking exhaust and, as Scott has said, we don't like exhaust leaks.*  The mechanic had to order a part and asked us to come back the next day so he could complete the repairs.  From there we headed to my sister Rebecca's house to play funeral dress up.  The wonderful thing about her house is the two small people that live there.  My nephew and niece are some of the funniest kids and they helped tremendously, as only little kids can at these moments.  Becca had a dress that fit me and she found a complete outfit for Scott.  This meant shirt, pants, socks, and shoes--like I said, we had nothing.  While one of us tried on clothes, the other kept the kids busy.  I stood and watched while my nephew tried to feed paper into the treadmill.  He would place the paper at the end of the belt and then physically move the belt until the paper was at the mouth.  After several attempts at trying to simply move the belt and have the paper go in (it wouldn't), he talked his sister into holding the paper flat while he moved the belt. In this way, they fed 4 pieces of paper into the treadmill before they realized that I was watching.  Both froze, looked up at me, and then did what little kids do when caught--they created a diversion.  Ellie fell off the treadmill, hit her head, blamed it on Owen, which caused Becca to come out and get on to Owen.  He started crying, Ellie was still crying, and Becca was in the middle of it trying to figure out what happened and make someone apologize.  I think they both ended up apologizing in the end.

From here my memory gets very fuzzy.  I don't remember the evening after this point.  My memory picks back up the next morning.  It is funny how memory works; some things are incredibly strong, burned into the memory and others disappear and there are only ghostly shadows of events left.  Memory is tenuous at best.  It serves but not always well and not always accurately. At points of stress, it becomes even more so as our minds reel, trying to find some semblance of equilibrium.  Memory has this way of providing gaps where you are unable to recall and then at other times it hits you with such force it is equivalent to a punch to the solar plexus, leaving you gasping for breath at the force of the memory.  The acute pain, as everything around you forces you to remember, to recall, to make heretofore unseen connections in your universe.  That cat on the fence compels the mind to somehow connect it to that vague memory from Halloween when you were twelve.  That smell reminds you of hanging out during the holidays. That sound brings to mind that time.  And then your body reacts of its own volition, that gasp for air, the suddenness with which the tears spring into your eyes, making you pause mid-sentence, mid-thought, and cope.  We rely so heavily on memory, on our perception of how things were, for perspective.  We cling to our memories as a way to keep our loss alive, to keep them present.  And while I struggle against the pain, I am also grateful that I have those moments.





*Scott had terrible car troubles years ago from an exhaust leak.  The car he was driving at the time was trying to kill him and he inhaled large amounts of exhaust in his drives across the city.  As a result of this, he has a sensitivity to exhaust and develops awful headaches now.