Tis the Season

The holiday season. Filled with happiness, warm drinks in mugs, fireplaces, and most importantly family. Family. Thanksgiving came and went and I could feel a tension throughout the holiday. It was like everyone had things that they really had on their minds, but no one wanted to bring it up. So instead conversation was filled with the pro football game on tv and my school work. Don't get me wrong, I like talking about football and school is great, but I was missing a vital part of my Thanksgiving this year.

I remember Thanksgiving last year. I was worried about it slightly because I was going to be getting my new truck after I had wrecked my Tahoe a month ago and my parents had no idea I had been riding a bike around to get to work because I was too stubborn to ask for rides to work. I flew in to Charlotte and was supposed to meet up with Tim right before heading to the front of the airport to get picked up by our Dad. I walked up to him wearing my birkenstocks with a pair of washed out sweat pants and a paint covered Presbyterian Disaster Assistance shirt. Being my brother, Tim was wearing khakis and a button down he then proceeded to make the comment that I looked like a homeless person. We went straight to the Starbucks in the airport and got drinks for ourselves making snide comments the whole way towards each other showing our affection in our own way. How much I missed that this year. How much I would trade to have been able to fly into Charlotte again only to get off the plane to see my brother. I missed him so much this Thanksgiving. He probably would have had a fit about how we held Thanksgiving this year. I could just hear him saying "...like a bunch of hicks who just fell off the truck." I wish nothing more than to have been able to go get ice cream with him, or coffee, or just go drive around and listen to Pink or Kesha, whoever he was listening to. There were so many wishes this past Thanksgiving.

December starts tomorrow. It will have been 5 months tomorrow. It will also be my Dad's birthday tomorrow. Too many things on one day. I'm fully planning on skyping my Dad tomorrow and catching up some more with him. However, in the back of my mind I will be thinking of the 25 days to follow tomorrow. Whether or not I will get home and see Tim's stocking hanging on the mantle next to mine. Whether or not we will hang up his "Baby's first Christmas" ornament on the tree. Whether or not we will get out of bed on Christmas morning at 8 like usual or just wait until lunch time when we are all too hungry and we have to start the day. Whether or not I will be able to do my favorite thing on Christmas, the one thing that reminded me of Christmas spirit the most in my house: setting my alarm at 2 or 3 in the morning just like Tim to wake each other up, climb down the stairs as quietly as possible, and get our stockings. We would then go to one of our rooms and show each other what we got. We have done that for years, but I don't know if I can do that this year. I don't know if I am strong enough. I don't know if I can go to the extra late service at Church on Christmas Eve and then go out into the pavilion and sing "Joy to the World" with a candle in my hand. I don't know if I can sit and listen to my Dad read us the Polar Express and The Night Before Christmas before setting out cookies and milk for Santa. I know I am not strong enough as I am typing all of this. I am not strong enough, but as a family we are. My Mom, Dad and I will make it through this holiday season, because we are not just a family, we are the Lipka family. As crazy as we can be sometimes, and as frustrated as we can make each other (especially when certain members drop their Bio class and change majors) we are strong enough to get through this together.

There was a bible verse shared with our community house last year in New Orleans. "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." This passage is from Ecclesiastes 4:12. December will suck this year. However, I have a three stranded chord: my friends, my family, and my brother who may not be here physically, but is with me eternally.



Happy Holidays

I wanted to share this poem that a good friend sent me a few months ago. Every day I read it, it holds new meaning.




Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver


Peace

Happy Birthday

Dear Tim,

I'm not really sure how birthdays are supposed to work now. When we are on Earth we throw parties, make poor decisions, celebrate the fact that we made it another year, and deal with the fact that we are getting older. What about now, do you still get a birthday? Should we still celebrate? I know I don't feel like celebrating right now.

All these questions I have asked myself in preparation for your birthday. Mom, Dad, and I really are getting a triple hitter with your birthday, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas. I'm not sure how I should feel with your birthday being today. All the days leading up to it haven't been filled with the anticipation, shopping for presents, or making cakes. It's been filled with quite the opposite actually.

I can remember your past birthdays, well not 1-6 cause I wasn't born yet, and some of those ones in my early years are a little fuzzy. But the last 10 I'm good on. Some you were in college for, or you were in D.C., and last year we were both out of the house. Admittedly, I never did a really good job with your birthday, Tim. Mom or Dad usually got me the presents to give to you, and the cards, and someone usually had to remind me to wish you Happy Birthday. But not this year, and I'm sorry that it took me until this year. I'm sorry that it took me until now to realize the true importance of your birthday, I'm sorry that it took me this long to really want to be able to celebrate with you, to put effort into getting presents for you, to want to make you a cake (even though we know I would just go to the grocery store to get one.)

I'm not sure how it works now Tim. I've heard both sides, that you'll always be 25, and that you age alongside the rest of us just in a different place. My problem with you always being 25 is that you are my big brother. There will be a time when I turn 25 and you will still be my big brother. The way that you treated me and loved me was that of a big brother, and that is how I will always view you. I have to imagine you being older than me, you always were (and made a point of it whenever we had to clear the table.) In my heart and mind you are growing another year big brother.

I love you Tim, and I miss you so much. I'm sorry that I came up short on other birthdays, and I'm sorry that I can't celebrate with you this year. The last 19 years you got me the best birthday present ever, and that was being my brother, the best brother that I could have ever asked for. I hope being your little brother and trying my hardest to make you proud of me is the best birthday present for you as well.

Happy Birthday Tim.

Love Always,
Eric

First Composition 110 Paper

I've been in college for a little while now, and the first assignment for my Composition class was a Personal Narrative. The prompt that I used was "write about a time in your life that challenged or changed your beliefs." The following is what I wrote for this:

                  After High School graduation I was not like all the other Graduated Seniors. I didn’t have extra-large twin sheets that match the color of the college that I was going to; I didn’t have a shower caddy, or even a mini fridge. I had my Chevy Tahoe packed full of boxes and clothes ready to move to New Orleans for a mission year. I thought it would be a great time in my life filled with new friends and experiences that few rising freshman get. The year was the best of my life until the summer came around. July 2^nd, 2012 not only devastated me like no other day before it, but it also made me realize who and what is important in life and how to start living every day to its fullest.

            The day started out like any other working for Project Homecoming. The only difference was that I hadn’t received my daily email from my Dad. I stepped outside and the humidity felt like a wet towel was put in a microwave and then wrapped around my face. I had gone straight to my work site that morning instead of going to the office. I sat in my truck for a little while finishing my horribly fattening and ridiculously greasy Sausage McMuffin. Right as I was throwing the wrapper into the back of my truck I received a call from my boss asking me to come into the office. He didn’t say why, and there was no reason for me to go in, so I started to get this weird feeling in my stomach. I could only think about what he must have to say. The feeling only got worse as the drive continued making the whole time feel like the longest drive I had ever taken. I got into the office and my Construction Manager told me to call my Mom. I started to worry then thinking that something had happened to someone somewhere. I kept calling and calling my Mom, and she didn’t pick up, then I tried my brother and it went straight to his voicemail so I figured they were talking. I asked my Construction Manager if my Mom had said anything about it, “it’s something tragic” were the only words that she said. My mind immediately went to my Dad, and how there was no email from him that morning. Then I just waited until my Mom called. I can’t forget her voice over the phone. It sounded shaky, like she was trying to be strong, but her voice wasn’t possibly strong enough to carry the weight of the words that she was about to say. Somehow she was able to tell me that my brother, Tim, had died the previous night from a heart attack.

            My big brother, who I played at the beach with which would end up me being held by my ankles while he dunked my head in the water, who I raced Mario Karts with, who I grew up with. Being 7 years apart we were never incredibly close because we had completely different mind sets. A college kid doesn't always want to hang out with a middle school student if they can help it. I have fond memories of him setting his alarm to wake us both up on Christmas morning so that we can go see what was in our stockings however, we could only grab our stockings. There was an unwritten rule of a stocking grab and then we had to go to our rooms and also not wake up Mom and Dad, but of course kids our age and size would make a lot of noise. Our parents were just nice enough to not yell when we woke them up. Nineteen years of memories were with him. He spent countless hours in high school parking lots teaching me how to drive, and actually drove me to prom my junior and senior years of High School. He gave me advice in all departments of my life especially during my mission year, and went above and beyond the call of duty for a big brother. We had this club growing up. It was called “The Lipka Men’s Club.” The club involved my Dad, my Brother, and me. We took Mother’s day pictures together wearing white polo’s and pink and green ties. We gave Christmas presents as a club and received Christmas presents from the ever elusive Santa. Then, in a 3 minute phone call, I found out that he had died, that we had not only lost my brother, but lost one of my two favorite members of the best club that I have ever been a part of.  Later that day I went home to my family – we all felt a huge void in our lives. The week until the funeral consisted of trying to figure out how to fill the void amongst piles of sympathy cards that didn’t help anything, food that wasn’t eaten, and people only seen for weddings and funerals.  You are either an only child, or one with a sibling.  There is nothing worse than losing your sibling. There is nothing worse than trying every day to learn how to move on.  The person that you have made future plans with now lost.  Everything from ‘when you will see each other again’ to ‘who will take care of your parents when they go crazy’ now gone.  The funeral came on that weekend and to everyone’s surprise I spoke at it. It was difficult, but I talked about how I was going to work as hard as I could to make Tim proud of me.

After saying that at the funeral, that one line, my life changed. I started to have lots of questions, but I couldn’t escape the thought of what my life would be like if none of this happened. I first think of how my brother was coming to visit me in New Orleans the weekend after the funeral, how he had made travel plans and I had made itinerary plans for us to spend time together without our parents around, an experience that we never got to have. I think about how much easier my life would be without this weight to carry around. Finally, I think about how my faith was before Tim died; how strong it was, and now how it has been turned upside down, causing me to question everything that I learned through my Young Adult Volunteer year and my 19 years of life. All of the Sunday school lessons of ‘Jesus loves you and he won’t let any harm come to you’ betrayed, and the complex questions of faith, discussions on what God is doing in our lives, and how everything happens for a reason, disappeared. Then finally I grasped reality that this is my life now and I thought about making Tim proud. I realized how wrong I was with my actions living in New Orleans – the parties, not putting 100% into everything that I did, and not fighting for what I believe in.  During the reception one of his friends from Washington, D.C. came up to me and said, “The one thing that people most loved about your brother was how genuine he was, and how kind he was to everyone.” I then realized what I had to do. Weeks passed and before I knew it I had to go to college. I don’t think I fully realized what I was signing up for when I chose Maryville; it was a college where I knew absolutely no one.  I wasn’t going to let that stop me though – I couldn’t.  I knew what I had to do to make my brother proud of me. I just had to figure out how to balance social life, college, and this new weight on my shoulders. College life started pouring in and I was trying to take my Dad’s advice of treating college like the job that I had: put forty hours of work in during the week, and ten hours of work in on the weekends. That advice took care of my school work, but my social life relied on what my brother’s friend told me, to be kind, to be genuine. I try to treat people well now, I try to behave in ways that would make people feel good, about themselves and life. I try to behave in ways that would make my brother proud. I go out and live my life. I try to get out and spend time with friends, get to meet new people, and form relationships with people that I usually wouldn’t hang out with, just because that is the right thing to do.

Right after my brother’s death people looked at me and expected to find me on the floor sobbing in a fetal position. That did not happen, but after some time, what people found was a stronger person. I can not bring my brother back. I have come to learn that. However, I can live in a way that makes him proud of me and of the Lipka man that I am becoming. I have been changed, and I have been challenged, and there is no way that I can think of honoring my brother better than by treating people in the way that I want to be treated. July 2^nd, 2012 not only devastated me like no other day before it, but it also made me realize who and what is important in life and how to start living every day to its fullest. 

I'll let  you know what grade I get. For now though I have transition retreat for the YAV program, expect another post after that experience.

Peace 

The Bitter and Sweet End

It's hard to believe that I was in Charlotte for a week, it feels like it was a month. Time dragged on as my family and I went through the cliche "day by day." I talked with old friends, received countless messages from people checking in on me, and played way too many video games. Throughout the week I couldn't once think of something other than what a terrible turn this summer took, and how fast it all happened. I can't help but think about the plans that I had for my last month as a YAV, and how quickly those plans changed. Now I'm sitting in the Atlanta airport about to catch my connection to New Orleans to be there until Saturday. On Saturday I will be shutting the door of the YAV house for the last time and leaving my YAV year early. There were many things that influenced my decision of ending my YAV year early, but the primary one is also what the YAV program stressed during orientation... self-care. To take care of myself, I have to end a month early.

A lot has happened in this past week. A lot of tears, a lot of hugs, a lot of family, just a lot. Through it all I keep thinking about the hardest thing that I have ever done in my life, and that was speak at my brother's funeral. I was talking to my youth pastor about it prior to Saturday, and said how it should be one of my brother's kids or grandchildren speaking at his funeral, not me. It's not fair that it was me. I wanted to speak, I knew it would be hard, but I had to. I read a revised version of my last blog post, knowing that the version spoken by me at his funeral would have a different meaning to people than just reading it online. It had a different meaning to me, too. It showed me just how hurt I am by all of this, how strong the love of my brother is, and how much people loved Tim. I got choked up (understatement), but I tried really hard to get through it, and from what people have said, I did a good job. I wasn't looking for a good job though, I was looking for a way to get across to people our relationship as brother's. In my talk I realized how hard that is to get across, and I'm pretty sure that it's impossible, because the love between my brother and I is ever present, but not always seen. I tried to tell people about us, and as I said in the Sanctuary, I tried to make Tim proud of the Lipka Man that I was becoming.

My YAV year has been full of experiences, some I wanted to have, and others that I wish never happened. But I wouldn't trade this year for anything, this year has let me grow, given me something to be proud of, helped me to form relationships with people that I will never forget, and prepared me for my life better than any year possibly could have. I am very upset to leave New Orleans this weekend, but at the same time, I am incredibly happy of the opportunities that I have had and the people that I have met, and also the future that awaits me. When people and a city impact you this much, then it is impossible to say goodbye to both, so it isn't goodbye New Orleans, I will see you again

Peace

αδερφός

The title means "brother."

Throughout my YAV year I have used this blog to get my emotions down, not worried about what gets typed up, using this blog as I need it when I am ready to talk about whatever it is.

This morning I learned of my brother's passing. I was filled with grief and hurt and wanted to be with my family right away. My big brother. Who I played in the snow with, who I raced mario karts with, who I grew up with. Being 7 years apart we were never super close because we had completely different mind sets. A college kid doesn't always want to hang out with a middle school student if they can help it. I have fond memories of him setting his alarm to wake us both up on Christmas morning so that we can go see what was in our stockings, but we could only grab our stockings, there was an unwritten rule of a stocking grab and then we had to go to our rooms and also not wake up Mom and Dad, but of course kids our age would make a lot of noise, so our parents were just nice enough to not yell when we woke them up. Memories of playing Legend of Zelda, of watching Star Wars, of getting in arguments, we almost never physically fought. He helped me with driving, gave me advice in all departments, and went above and beyond the call of duty for a big brother.

He was planning on coming down to New Orleans next weekend, and now this. My community of friends in New Orleans and my girlfriend have been amazingly supportive, but the truth is that I am devastated. I always feel bad for people who have a tragedy like this happen, but I never know what to say to help. And now it's me and I can put on some sort of calm visage like I'm ok, but I had plans with my brother, not just for when he would come down to New Orleans, but for life, and now this.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all rainbows and butterflies, he annoyed me often. He was hard to live up to, he didn't do stellar in high school, (my Mom will tell you that I didn't do much better), but Tim was so successful in the things that he did. He was the type of student that teachers remembered, so that years later they would still slip up and call me "Tim" instead of "Eric." His senior exit project was crazy good, while I finished my product the day before. He flourished in college and after college he transitioned seemingly flawlessly into the work force. My parent's and I have both talked with some of his friends from Washington, D.C. and they have all said what a great person he was.

One time this year when I was angry he told me that I could tell him anything, that if there was anything going on that I should text him, or email him, or call him. Just contact him and talk with him.One of the worse parts is the regret now. The fact that I have no idea where I would be able to find a picture of my brother and I. The fact that we didn't talk on the phone more. That I hadn't seen his face since Christmas. When I got to my parents tonight I was finally able to let go, to allow myself to begin the grieving process, I had too much to do this afternoon to let my mind and body function the way they should in this time, and now in the midst of my family I can.

There is a club... it's called the Lipka Men's Club. It's for my Dad, my brother, and myself. We take pictures together on Mother's day, even when we are apart from each other. We give Christmas presents as a club, we have email groups, and if I could only be part of one club for the rest of my life, then I would be damn proud to be part of the Lipka Men's Club.  I can't say goodbye to my brother, it isn't whether or not I am emotionally stable enough, I just have to stick with the thought that I will see him again. So it isn't goodbye, Tim, it's see you later.

You are the best brother that I could have ever asked for, and so much more than I deserve, I am so proud of you, and I am going to work so hard for you to be proud of me too. I love you.


All for one and one for all
My brother and my friend
What fun we have
The time we share
Brothers 'til the end.
-unknown

Life After YAV... and what it looks like

This past Thursday I flew home to Matthews. I stayed up late with Corey and played video games, then went and got chicken biscuits at the Arboretum a usual summer day if it was right after a school year, but it wasn't, it was a small break in my YAV year that showed me what it is going to be like when I'm out, if a YAV can ever say that they are truly out of the program. I went to Maryville on Friday, and stayed through Saturday for orientation. College orientation, I thought it was never going to happen, and it flew by in less than 6 hours.

The students for our orientation date showed up, not all fully grasping that high school was over, and that they are all going to be on a new adventure. It was strange talking to them, they mostly had conversations about high school classes, their teachers, what they have done for summer break, or what they plan to major in. I realized that I was the same way before my YAV year, that high school was all that I had experienced and that the YAV year gave me life experience. I went through the motions... had lunch with my small group, registered for classes, got my college ID. It was all starting to look like the end of one chapter and the beginning of a new one in a new place.

It's only about 7 more weeks. 7 more weeks and I will be heading home to get my things together and go to college. My classes are going to be intense. I'm a little nervous about it, but I know that if I want this bad enough, then I can do it. I am currently a Pre-Med: Biology major, who would graduate with a Bachelor of Science, potentially adding on a double major of International Studies. There were so many acronyms and numbers for the classes, I was stressing out and I'm not even going there yet. At the same time though it excites me, 17 credit hours for my first semester. Math, English Composition, New Testament Biblical Studies, Biology, Biology Lab, First Year Seminars, Band, and Choir. No classes on Thursday, Bio Lab on Tuesday, everything else on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Intensity.

I'm excited for my classes, I'm excited to make new friends, to get the skills that I need for Med School, but at the same time the transition worries me a little bit. One of the advisers talked a lot about how difficult the transition between High School and College is, I wish she had mentioned the transition between a YAV year and college, because it freaks me out a little bit. I just have to remember the green card that my site coordinator, Kathy, gave me during the spring semester of my Senior year. It was one green card amidst a New Orleans themed post card and a few books, but the card had a bible verse on it:

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'"
-Jeremiah 29: 11-13.

I have kept that little sheet of paper in my wallet since I got it, and I know that the verse will remain true as I go throughout all of the new chapters of my life, and I know that God is going to be by my side through not only my transition, but always.

7 weeks left, 7 weeks until this chapter is over and a new one begins. New Orleans... it's about to get real




Peace