Written/last edited on 12-13-09

The Week

I'm not real sure how this week will go. I know it's going to be rough when I finally see my family members. I'm ok when I'm not talking to them or thinking about them. I knew if I answered my phone while on the golf course, I would break down and spoil the day for everyone. My phone battery is almost dead because of the voicemails, missed calls, and text messages.

I'm glad that Lee bought me Sour Patch Kids. As I was riding up with Brett, I began to tear up more with every mile closer to Jayess we got. So I blamed it on the sourness of the candy. Brett cried a little as he told me about Mom passing. He, Dad, and his preacher were there. The preacher heard how bad Mom was doing and wanted to visit. He prayed with them for a minute. They opened their eyes to see that Mom had passed quietly while they were praying over her.

I actually held up ok when I arrived. I guess seeing Mom at Memorial Day and knowing it was my final goodbye helped me a little.

The undersheriff for the county came by to extend his condolences. As we were talking about perhaps needing him to get Robbie out of a ticket if he sped returning to the airport, he told us that if he got a ticket to call him immediately. And he told us that he and the sheriff were in agreement and were providing a police escort for the hearse to bring Mom to the church Wednesday morning.

Dana called me shortly after getting home. She's coming down and wants to have lunch possibly on Friday. Lee called her after dropping me off at the airport. I'm glad she thought enough to call. Guess I had better get used to people calling me despite the fact that I detest being the center of attention.

Robbie and Elizabeth came. I did finally break down when he hugged me. I was extremely glad to see him and basically collapsed against him.

One of Mom's requests for her funeral was to have balloons and make people wear loud colors in order to have a party rather than a funeral. All of the females in the family wore brighter colors. Dad and Uncle Tim went to get balloons. While looking they found one that said "Congratulations on your new home!" They looked at each other and commented how fitting it was and that it would certainly be the one that Mom would chose herself.

Kerry White's sister, Kim, came to the funeral. She had spoken with Kerry and his parents and told them about Mom passing. All of them said "Hello" and said they were thinking about me. I haven't seen them since I was in undergrad.

The guys sent flowers. I figured they would but initially wished that they would save the effort and money. After seeing the flowers, I began to cry and was glad that they did put forth the effort. I'm having a hard time accepting the 'effort' that people are putting forth. At the same time, I find it is comforting to know they are thinking about me.

Clint and his family sent flowers as well. I'm still being amazed at the outpouring and contacts from people.

Dr. Wilson also sent flowers from his family. He did Mom's very first surgery back in 1993. Dad told me that Dr. Wilson also came by every morning to check on Mom even though he had nothing to do with this current hospital stay. On Tuesday morning, he came by to check on Mom. By that time, everyone knew that she would not make it through the day. He told Dad to give Brett a message to call him as soon as he could that day. Evidently Dr. Wilson and Brett have gotten to be close through the Academy and the athletic department.

Clint's parents came. I was doing ok until I saw Ms. Velma. That was the first big breakdown I had. It was good to see them and feel them hugging me. She told me that she could never take the place of Mom but that she had always considered herself my second mother and that I was her fourth child. It felt good having that motherly touch and comfort right then.

Clint, Nula, Bird, and Bob came. Part of me wished they hadn't made the drive since it was after work and in the middle of the week. Part of me wanted to grab them and get out of there to just hang around with each other.

Wade's parents came in right behind them. I lost it again as I hugged The Bruce. He never said anything during that time but just hugged me back.

I saw Brad King's parents. They said they had told Brad and he wished me well. I haven't seen or heard from him since probably 1997.

Jamison's mom came to the visitation. I didn't recognize him even though he stayed with me one night in Oxford. His mom is head of nursing at the hospital. She said that there were so many nurses requesting time off so they could come to the visitation or funeral, enough that the hospital would have had to close to handle all of the requests.

The funeral arrangements were made late in the day. But the Daily Leader held the printing of Tuesday's paper so that Mom's arrangements could be included in the printing. They held it because of Brett's relationship with them.

Jennifer Alexander showed up. She came straight from work. Mrs. Nancy kept her kids so that she could come see me. It was good catching up with her.

Melanie Alexander also came. She heard that Mom had passed away and said there was never a doubt as to whether she was coming or not.

There were so many times that I wanted to grab the guys, Wade's parents, and Clint's parents to go sit in another room and get away from everything and everyone. I want the safety of what I know and have known. Those people know me better than I know myself. I just wanted to surround myself with them since they were there. They stayed for what seemed like a long time talking with me. It may have only been 30 minutes in reality, but it seemed like an eternity.

I still can't sleep. I didn't sleep much last night either. I did nap on the plane but that was for about an hour and a half.

Today will be hard.

I took a shower over at the house. I stood in the den for a minute and let the cat rub against my legs. I know the cat has been alone for almost all of the previous several weeks. I did feel sorry for the cat and then with those same feelings felt sorry for Mom and what she had to go through for those weeks. I broke down several times.

They are burying Mom at the foot of Mam-maw's grave.

Mitch Rayborn called Brett to tell him that he heard the news and was sorry he couldn't be there. Mitch had gone online to a forum that discussed south MS high school sports. Someone from the Academy had made a post to everyone that Mom had passed away. According to Mitch there were almost a hundred replies with condolences.

Tatum and Allison showed up. I didn't want them to come all the way down the state for this quick trip. Naturally, they didn't listen to me. As I stood there talking with them, I was a little distracted and needed the break. Traylor arrived while we were talking. He found Jayess on Mapquest. The directions sent him all around the world. In his words, he almost locked his brakes as he flew by the church and then realized that was it.

Clint and his mom made it. I still couldn't hold back the tears as she gave me a hug.

Mom enjoyed watching the Academy girl's basketball team. She and dad would go to all the games even after Brett and I graduated. Mom died while the team was at basketball camp. Coach Gray's wife said that they finished practicing and were told that she passed away. The entire team told Coach Gray that they wanted to send flowers. They sent an arrangement of flowers in the school colors.

Both of the songs sang at the funeral were Sandi Patti songs, Mom's favorite Christian artist.

Brett stood up and spoke as part of the funeral service. I was afraid of how it would come across. Most of the time it comes across as something that the particular person feels they must say and often appears selfish in nature. I was afraid of this for Brett's sake and the sake of my family. Instead he did a great job and spoke about things that Mom said or wanted.

The flowers from the guys and from Clint's family were both placed on the grave at her feet.

After the graveside service, we released the "Congratulations on your new home!" balloon. The wind didn't quite blow hard enough to carry it over the trees and it got caught. Dad jokingly said aloud "Come on, Suzonne, get out of there!" Aunt Jean immediately chimed in saying "Donnie, you know she'd be telling you to hush because she was going to do it her way." Everyone laughed because we knew that was exactly Mom's nature. A few seconds later, a breeze caught the balloon and lifted it up and away from the trees.

I'm thankful that Tatum, Allison, and Traylor stayed for lunch. They provided me with some much needed company. Of course it wasn't hard twisting Allison's arm when I told her about the dessert table.

Uncle Dickie, Aunt Gloria, Aunt Garalyn, and Pap-paw had lunch with Dad on Wednesday. They told him that they were in agreement and wanted Dad to move back into the house to keep it up and to make sure it stayed in the family. Dad agreed.

I had one of the best talks with Dad that I've ever had. We walked through the field over to the house. Along the way, Dad told me about the lunch meeting and wanted to make sure I knew and was ok with him moving back in. I told him that was my wish as well as Mom's wish. Then we walked around the house looking at things to clean up and fix. He doesn't want to change the decorative part of the house but just clean it up. He even told me that he and Mom were discussing that he move back into the house around Christmas or shortly after. He is also going to keep her cats rather than get rid of them. He kept saying that this was our house and he wanted to keep it that way. We did agree that the house just needs to be updated and freshened up, perhaps to give it a pre-cancer feel to it.

This past week has been tough on Dad. I've seen him break down several times. And when we are at the house, he is very affectionate towards Mom's favorite cat. He makes a point to pick it up and pet it for a few minutes. I've never seen Dad do anything like that.

I met Dana for lunch. We talked for a couple of hours. It was really good to see her and talk. I probably talked more than I have in all prior conversations with her combined. She was very supportive and listened intently. I felt so comfortable and I'm sure I repeated myself multiple times with things that stuck out from the past few days. It was really good to see her.

I got an email from my ex passing along her condolences. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Now I'm angry about it. I know I shouldn't be, but I am since I asked her to never contact me under any circumstances. I still can't figure out how I should handle it…respond, don't respond, what to respond if I do, etc. I think it is best to not even respond and let it be.

On Tuesday morning, I made a donation in honor of Mom to Jenn G's Relay for Life Dogs Walk. On Wednesday, she asked Andy if something was going on because of me being out and my donation in honor of Mom. Andy told her that Mom had passed away. She then got together with her boyfriend and another co-worker and dedicated her race to Mom's memory. Then she emailed everyone with the link. When you view her donation page, it says "Welcome to Team Milo and Otis's Donation Page In Honor of Suzonne Rutland". I just checked tonight and they were up to just over $1,400. Tears flowed when I heard about this.

Pap-paw told me that when Mom was diagnosed the first time in 1993, her only wish was to see me and Brett grow up.

I'm still not sleeping good.

We worked around the house doing yard work and pushing off some limbs and stuff in the yard. Doug let Brett borrow his tractor, truck and trailer for the entire day and was upset that we filled the truck and tractor up with gas. He wanted this to be his 'contribution' during this time.

The Dogs Walk that Jennifer and Erica did raised about $2,000 in honor of mom. I'm still trying to find the words to say to them when I see them or email them for the first time.

I may end up cooking more than I expect this next month. I helped with the fish fry and the other meals. It was a good distraction. I did decide that I would like to have Mom's cookbooks if Dad and Brett have no objection to it.

I think that the best fit for Mom's Bible commentaries and other books would be with Bonnie's seminary in Zambia. That was the first thing that came to mind was donating those books to the seminary.

Dad told me that while they were at the funeral home, he and Pap-paw talked a little bit. Pap-paw told him that he had picked the same casket that Pap-paw picked for Mam-maw.

I didn't go to Brylie's birthday party. I don't think that I'm ready to be in a setting where I have to worry about seeming a little down or out of it.

I think the hardest thing I'm dealing with is that the setting of 'home' is not the same. Everyone knows that Mom and I had a rocky relationship over the last several years. Even then, just the simple absence of her from that setting strikes an empty chord with me. Today at lunch was very strange with everyone being there except for her. It just doesn't seem real that she is gone. She's fought through the other two battles with cancer and so I guess somewhere deep down I keep expecting her to fight through this one.

I was afraid to see how Mom would look after seeing her over Memorial Day. I'm not sure what they did, but she looked very well…much better than she did when I saw her last.

None of this past week seems real or like I'm living in it. Numb is a fair descriptor of my life right now.

The more I think about how people have done things for me, the more I break down in tears. I don’t think I've ever been this amazed at anything. I spoke with Clint about borrowing his truck to dispose of stuff from the house. While talking with him, he told me that he emailed all the guys about flowers. Nula responded almost immediately telling the other guys that it was time for them to step up for me because they all knew that I would be the first one doing the same thing for them.

I'm very happy that Ms. Velma showed up. I felt like a little kid in her arms…safe and loved.

It's going to be tough this next week. Random things are making me thing of recent events and cause me to shed tears. I was telling Aunt G and Pap-paw about the annual golf trip and how we've done it for the past five years. As I thought about all the guys and our trips, I realized that the core group of those guys all showed up this past week…Clint, Jeffery, Nula, and Burns.

It was hard saying bye to Dad.

I don’t know how or what I can or will say as I start the process of thanking those people that have done something for me this past week. Words fail.

Uncle Dickie and Aunt Garalyn were talking about having a night at Country Fisherman to raise money for the Animal Rescue League in Mom's honor. The owner knows our family and is on the board for the local rescue league.

Being back at work is somewhat relieving and yet distressing. I want to put on the smile and be ok around people that don't know, but I'm finding it hard to give that impression. People are coming by and expressing their condolences. It's comforting but also hard given that I'm not good at accepting things from people.

Written/last edited on 08-03-08

(After several requests for this letter, I finally decided to post it.)

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to see my school’s baseball team play in a tournament. In between games, the stadium was cleared so that only ticketed spectators ended up in the stands. Naturally, long lines were inevitable for the second admittance. While standing in line, I felt like a little kid waiting to enter a ball park to see his favorite team about to take the field. Oh, the anticipation and excitement of being towards the front of the lines and being the first one into the stadium. I felt as if I was standing in the middle of every little boy’s dream. George Washington would have a hard time being called patriotic when compared to this childish young adult waiting in line. I think I even caught a whiff of hot apple pie breezing through my mind!

Oh, that day! The heat of the summer began to dissipate making the evening cool and pleasant. A light north breeze kept the flags in center field stirring. The smell of hot dogs and popcorn swirled through the stadium. No speck of dirt was out of place on the baseball diamond. The stripes from the cuts of grass were so crisp to the eyes. And here I stood in the middle of this cherished ambience. I felt connected to my childhood again but also something larger, something that bonded my spirit with everyone attending the game. This baseball game made me feel as if we were participating in some part of a great American heritage.

After both teams took infield practice, it was time to announce the starting lineups. Fans for both teams clapped and cheered at the mention of every name. Then it was time for the most sacred of all sacraments, the national anthem.

The girl singing couldn’t have been over 14 years old, but her voice carried the words with the full force Francis Scott Key must have intended. As her voice filled that stadium and enveloped each spectator, I found myself almost in tears. Yes, I can be a sentimental fool at times, but this was different. I could not even look at the flag. My hand remained over my chest, but my eyes could only find the grass of the infield. “Look at the flag” I thought to myself. As I raised my head and my eyes made contact with the stars and stripes, I had to blink and wipe my eyes to conceal my tears. But again, I had to stare at the grass. “What’s the matter? Look at the flag. What’s wrong?” I simply could not look at the flag without the desire to burst into tears. But why?

For the first time in my life, I understood and I saw. And what I saw shattered me. Between the hundreds of feet of threads and seams of this fabric we call a flag lay millions of images and stories that screamed at me. I saw the founding fathers stake their very lives upon the idea of the United States and democracy. I heard the cannons fire in defense of that same democracy. The gunfire and explosions that paved my road to freedom rang in my ears and mind with a deafening eeriness. But for the first time, I saw the faces of those behind, and on the receiving end, of that same gunfire and explosions. No longer are historical events marked with stories of heroism and bravery. Now, they are forever marked with the faces I see staring back at me from between the threads of Old Glory. And what produces more tears and swells my head up more than any other thing on this planet is the fact that I see my grandfathers’ faces glimmering back at me through that flag.

Each one of them served in different capacities and holds countless memories. Just to share, I mention two stories about them.

On a trip to New York City, Pap-paw shared a very brief and tearful trip down memory lane with Mam-maw, Uncle Ron, and Aunt Tanya. Pap-paw was transported home on a ship bound for New York City. One of the first things they could see from the ship was the Statue of Liberty. Standing with everyone and tears in his eyes, he remarked that “she (the Statue of Liberty) was one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen” as they entered the harbor that day.

Granddaddy always told stories about flying around in B-26 Marauders. Mostly those trips were cargo transports or logistical in nature. The B-26 wasn’t the most popular plane, but it carried my Granddaddy around. I would search for models and read any article on the plane. It wasn’t until graduate school that I finally saw a television program on the B-26. Only then did I learn that the plane was nicknamed “the widow maker” because it was one of the deadliest planes a person could fly in during World War II. But it didn’t matter what the working conditions might have been for him. “It was our job” as he would say. That level of commitment and devotion are a rare find today.

William Sedley Rayborn (Pap-paw) and Jack Hobson Rutland, Sr. (Granddaddy) were only two of the millions of Americans that served this great country. Both men came from a small community that isn’t found on most maps, much less known to those outside the community. They were farm boys that didn’t have much growing up during the 1920s and 1930s. These men were raised during the era that a man was only as good as his word. And they epitomized that ideal. Slow to act, slow to speak, but ever wise. Truly men of few words, everyone listened when they did speak because of the weight their integrity and wisdom carried. They saw only people, never man or woman or white or black. In their eyes, a person was a miraculous being created by their Savior Jesus Christ. And it was this idea of a person that they fought for during World War II.

My grandfathers were very ideological and religious men. They saw to it that their own lives exemplified Christ and provided the best example of a father to their children and grandchildren. The Bible was never far away from their bed or their lips. The pages in their Bibles show the signs of wear from years of use. And in any situation, I can hear their voices saying to me “The good Lord watches over all of us.”

Not once in my twenty-six years have I ever stopped to thank either of them for their service to me and this country. Finally, the full brunt of their service and devotion has crushed my simplistic notion of patriotism. The statement “I want to be like them when I’m older” applies to both of them.

Millions of pages could be written and thousands of stories could be recanted about these two men. Thousands of people have been directly touched by their lives and countless other people have benefited from their existence. I am fortunate to be in the group that has been directly touched by them and in the group that has broadly benefited from their service to this country. But I am most fortunate because I am able to call these two men my Pap-paw and my Granddaddy.

I most respectfully and lovingly say “Thank You” for all that you have given to me, from my life to my freedom. I also thank you for providing all of us children and grandchildren with some of the Godliest examples of living. Words will never convey the appreciation or the pride I feel each time I see your faces wave back at me from a U.S. flag.

With all the love and appreciation I can muster in my shallow heart,

Your grandson,
Russ

Written/last edited on 08-03-08

take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

Written/last edited on 08-03-08

i think God allows us to participate in His plans so we might experience part of the joy He feels. God doesn't need us to accomplish His plans. it is a privilege to call Him my Father and be used by Him. is this one benefit we overlook of being a Christian--that we get to join God in working out His plan and we get to share now in His joy and love towards other people?

Written/last edited on 08-03-08

here is a thought about multiple religions. every religion believes in a god. but how can all religions lead to any heaven when some religions are in conflict? a religion and its deity must be internally consistent in order to be called a deity. by definition, a god reflects some ideal of perfection, whether in all areas such as the Christian God or in specific areas such as the Greek gods. but how can many paths (religions) leading to heaven conflict with each other and this supreme being at the end of the path be internally consistent and not be self-conflicting. taking a universalist stance does not solve the problem either. by claiming any religion, a person is saying their religion is the right one no matter what that religion believes. for example, a universalist believes that all religions will lead to heaven. but only a universalist will hold that view and thus openly conveys that his/her idea of religion is the correct one.

so, there must be one prescribed way to heaven. and heaven must exist otherwise there is no reason for salvation or good living under the tenets of any religion. just as heaven must exist, so must a hell or other form of punishment exist. but how can baptists and universalists enter the same heaven when their tenets conflict with each other? if we are all worshipping the same deity, why do different tenets exist? Christ even said "a divided kingdom cannot stand." there must be only one way to enter heaven and only one prescribed salvation. otherwise, how authoritive can any religion be?