Never Forget Jimmy Shelstad

I was just thinking about Jimmy, a close friend of mine. 

The summer before grade 12, my friend Jimmy was walking home from a party when a drunk driver hit and killed him. His body landed 40 feet from where he was hit. He died instantly.

I went online on an early Saturday morning. It was July 31, 2004, and a friend messaged me, telling me that "Jimmy died last night." I refused to believe it. I thought it was a cruel, mean-spirited, totally not funny joke. I called Jimmy's house, and when his mom answered the phone, I said, "Hi, is Jimmy there?"

All I could hear for what felt like forever was breathing on the other end of the line, and then she said with the deepest sadness I've ever heard, "Oh, sweetie, he was hit by a car last night."

I paused and then replied: "Is he okay?"

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, and said, "No. Beth, I'm so sorry... he didn't make it."

That afternoon, my then-boyfriend, two friends, and I drove to Jimmy's house to offer support to his family. Jimmy's mom and dad invited us in. We sat around the kitchen table, in shock. We didn't say much. We shared a few memories and laughs, but mostly we cried. 

I would never hear his voice again. I would never again hear his infectious laugh, hug him, skip school with him, or share our deepest thoughts and secrets. Jimmy was gone, and I couldn't understand why. He would never graduate high school, become an adult, or have a wife and children. Jimmy's mom and dad lost a son, and Jimmy's younger brother was now an only child. It was so unfair. 

In the coming months, I combed through the newspaper each day: I cut out every article about Jimmy, slipped it into a plastic sleeve, and put it in a binder. I would read the articles over and over, pouring over the words and telling myself I would never forget and never let him go.

A week or so after Jimmy died, 100+ people showed up at what came to be known as "Jimmy's Corner", the intersection where he was killed. We hugged, laughed, cried, and when the clock struck the time that he died, each of us lit a candle and walked him the rest of the way home. 

My life has moved on, while Jimmy will only ever be the memory of a 17-year-old boy. 

What are you grateful for today?

Yesterday my mom and I were in her car; she was driving us to an appointment I made with the florist for my and Chris’s wedding. Chris wasn’t with us, because flowers.

Mom glanced at me. “I’ve been thinking… do you remember I mentioned a few years ago about writing down three things you’re grateful for every day?”

I said yes, that I did remember.

She said, “Well, I’ve decided I’m going to do it. Will you do it with me?”

I said that I absolutely would. Why not, right? A little gratefulness is always welcome.

She said, “Great because I already bought each of us a notebook! I got mauve and green; which colour do you want?”

What brought this on is that my mom is retiring (for the second time) today. The first time was three or four years ago, when she retired from her 30-something-year career, thinking she was ready to slow down the pace of her life, travel more, and pick up new hobbies. It was a good thing she retired when she did, because not even one month later, my dad got into a very serious ski accident that resulted in a lot of broken bones, surgery, and months of physiotherapy. Had my mom still been working, no one would have been around to help him move around the house those first few weeks post-accident.

But eventually, he made a full recovery (and went skiing the very next winter!), and my mom, who has always been used to doing something, or taking care of something, suddenly had nothing to do or take care of. I mean really, a person can only make so many quilts or go out for coffee with friends so many times before going a little nuts. Within a few weeks, she had found another job.

Me and Mumsy

My mom loves working. It is a core piece of who she is. I, on the other hand, not so much. I do something I enjoy, and I’m happy with where I’m at… but when I think of who I am or someone says, “Tell me about yourself”… my job is not at all how I identify with or describe myself. My mom is totally the opposite. She likes being busy, having a schedule, being respected, accomplishing tasks, feeling important, and just the whole idea of what working means. She is a classic workaholic, and for as long as I’ve been alive, she has described herself in a way that directly ties into her job.

She told me last night that she anticipates a depression in the future. Not tomorrow, but eventually, because for so long she has identified herself by her job… and that’s not going to be there for her anymore. So… it’s not surprising at all that she wants to start recording the daily things she is grateful for.

She wants to get into the habit of appreciating everything in her life that isn’t work-related, so that when the depression comes, she has already begun to be grateful for things other than work. You train your brain to think positively. If you know you’re going to need to come up with three unique things each day that you are grateful for, your eyes and your heart will be open, all day, to each and every experience, wondering if that one thing will make today’s grateful list. It stands to reason, then, that you’ll generally be a happier, more positive person, because you are now conscious and aware of all the mundane yet wonderfully exciting things that you overlooked before.

Dogs

My dogs, Charlie & Chance, give me companionship, assistance, loyalty, and love. Knowing that they will be waiting for me when I come home, tails wagging and bundles of excitement is what I most look forward to in my day-to-day life.