J.D.

Deborah, J.D., McKayla, and Casey
Visiting Grannie in East Texas,
on their way to Missouri,
March 1996

Today we attend the funeral for J.D., my 18 year old nephew. He was killed in an accident while on his bicycle, hit by a vehicle on a busy main street.

I'd like to share a little about him with you.

My memories of J.D. go back to when he was just under 3 years old. J.D. was adorable. He had very blond hair and blue eyes and I chuckle to myself now remembering the funny faces he made that made us laugh. He was a husky little guy, as energetic and physical as most boys are, but inside that energy was a very sensitive heart, one that sometimes got hurt. Today my daughter and I laughed through our tears when we saw a picture of him at that age, bottom lip out, arms folded on his chest, and big tears rolling down his cheeks. Whatever made him cry in that picture, we hoped was mended with a hug soon after.

J.D. loved boy things, especially enjoying them with his dad and step-dad, but even Moms could be pretty good company in a pinch. He loved cars, video games, playing football, watching football, Nascar races (Dale Earnhart Jr. #8 best of all), pretty much all sports, jamming out to hard rock music, and science fiction movies and books, Lord of the Rings being one of his absolute favorites. J.D. never wanted for something fun to do, to watch, to play, or to read. I don't recall ever hearing him say, "I'm bored."

J.D. loved his little sister at his Mom's and his little brother at his Dad's, even through his, ahem, "gentle" reminders of "Stay out of my room!" Those two younger ones, the ones that called him big brother, will miss him in ways that I can't imagine. J.D. was their protector, their guide, their playmate, their comrade in goofiness.

J.D. had a progressive hearing disease. He would eventually lose his hearing, but for now hearing aids mostly worked. I never knew him to get irritated if he couldn't understand us the first time around. He dealt with it as an inconvenience, nothing more. It never stopped him from doing a single thing that I was aware of.

J.D. loved family get-togethers. Life for J.D. just couldn't have too many backyard barbecues with food, family, and friends. Oh, and how he loved onions! If you wanted to make him happy -- and who wouldn't? -- make a homemade hamburger, and serve with plenty of thickly sliced raw onions. I'm not saying necessarily it made us happy, but we would be rewarded with the signature J.D. full face smile, one best viewed -- for a while -- from a distance.

As he grew up that tender heart didn't disappear. Even up through his teen years he still gave one of the best hugs you'll ever receive. The thing that made them remarkable to me was their sincerity, even when given to a middle-aged aunt, who must be the most boring human species to infringe upon the life of a boy. Frankly, I wish I could share just one more of those, right now.

After he graduated high school last summer, he almost faltered. "Free, free at last!" would describe a common post-graduate attitude. But free to do what was an awaiting pitfall.

By some beautifully timed coincidences, J.D. attended an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting with a friend. This particular group has a sub-group called The Messengers, a motorcycle once-hard-living group who now put family first, and host drug-and-alcohol-free activities regularly. They welcomed young J.D. with open arms and have made him an honorary Messenger. I know that had J.D. lived this group of loving individuals would have continued to be an important, guiding part of his life. Through them, we get a glimpse of the kind of man he was becoming.

We inter J.D. today with a heavy heart, full of missing and full of love. We were blessed to have known him, to have loved him, and to have been loved by him. I've enjoyed remembering him with you and appreciate this chance to do so here. If you'd like to remember J.D. today too, hug someone. A sincere, hold-nothing back, hug.