Life without Jamie. . .

Life With & Without Jamie

A Twin's Perspective

Here I wish to journal publicly what having a twin was like and what loosing a twin is like. Jamie was a gift from God, a gift given at the moment I was conceived. I dreadfully miss him, but look forward to the resurrection morning.

12/15/04 - 13 days since the crash

I can’t help but think that God designed that I marry a twin so that she would be able to empathize and understand when the day would come when I would loose mine. She has been wonderful in comforting me through this. It’s not so much what she’s said, but just knowing she knows what it would be like helps. I have also been so touched by all the stories and reports shared by friends and family about what Jamie has meant in their life. If only we would celebrate life more while we are alive. I guess that’s what made Jamie so appealing, for that is exactly what he did. He loved to bring family together who hadn’t seen each other in years. He loved to talk to old friends and maintain acquaintances. He was truly a communicator, it wasn’t just a job title. It feels good to write my thoughts down regarding Jamie, and know that others may take the time to read and realize what an incredible person he was and will be again when Jesus comes again.

12/17/2004 - 15 days since the crash.

Yesterday I found myself driving onto Southern’s Campus. It was Thursday and about the same time of day that I was there two weeks ago when this all happened. The lighting was the same, the sky was clear and there was a chill in the air. The day of the crash, I was on my way to the Knoxville First church for our meeting. I called Jamie as I was nearing the church. It was around 2:30pm when I called him to get better directions. He didn’t answer his cell phone but I figured he was already in the meeting and didn’t want to take the call. I called two or three times but finally found the church and pulled in. When I walked in many of my colleagues were there but Jamie, Dave, and Jim were not. Everyone was casually talking with each other awaiting their arrival. I remember looking around to make sure Jamie wasn’t there but didn’t see him. I took my seat in the middle of the small room. Steve Haley, my ministerial director, came over and chatted with me briefly until he received a call on his cell and left the room. I didn’t think much of it until he began to walk back in the room. I will never forget that experience. He had his glasses off and wiped his face with one hand. Tears were in his eyes and he was almost gasping for breath and words. He stammered around a moment as though he wasn’t sure if or how he could say it. One of the pastors said something about the plane and my mind raced furiously as my stomach began to descend to my toes. Steve then said, the conference plane has gone down. He began to explain how they didn’t know much information yet but he shared with us who he believed was on that plane. As he began to go through the names, I knew well that Jamie was most likely on that plane. Then he looked my way and said, “probably your brother was on that plane.” I was sick, I was in shock, I didn’t know how to react but fear and pain swept through my body like a hurricane. We all fell to our knees in the room and prayed. I guess I kept thinking that Jamie would pull through, after all, he was only 29 and things like this never happen to us. While we took turns praying I lifted up a prayer through my tears and asked that God would spare their lives.

Later someone suggested singing, but as Elder Haley said, he nor I felt as though we could sing at that moment. I joined him and Kevin in the hall way and we stepped outside around the back of the church. There I remember crying my heart out. Steve held me as I shook. We stood waiting to hear a report from Kevin who was on his cell with someone at the site. I believe I heard him say that there was one survivor thus far and I gathered I think from the phone call that it wasn’t Jamie but somehow later I wouldn’t realize this. I was somewhat in denial. At that point I walked a few feet away and dropped my day planner on the cold pavement and fell prostrate there and wept bitterly. To try and describe the pain and torture that I felt is hard to explain. But your mind is racing and you try your best to wrap your mind around the idea that Jamie who you thought was alive is possibly no longer breathing. That his heart is no longer beating and his chest no longer rising with each breath. How does one wrap their mind around that. My worst nightmare was taking place and I felt utterly helpless. Here I was around 90 miles away and Jamie’s life was perhaps drifting away. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. After all, we came into the world together, we were touching before we were even able to cry. How could his life just vanish. I sobbed a short moment as Pastor Haley came over and bent down and placed his hand on my back. I wanted to get near Jamie. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to see his condition. I wanted to know something. The not knowing but fearing the worst was torture. I followed Haley as we departed Knoxville. Haley suggested we head straight to the conference as they would have the latest information and such. I told him I wanted to go straight to the crash site. He then decided to accompany me. He got there first and confirmed our fears. They had roped the area off for two or three miles around the site and no one was permitted in. As I was driving past Southern heading over the tracks towards McDonald, Haley told me the sad reality that we couldn’t get in. I did a U-Turn right there and pulled over to the side of the road. Then I drove over by the Business and art department to the parking area facing the ducks and stream. I think it was there that the sad reality sank in that Jamie was gone. I cried like a baby as I tried to wrap my mind around the idea that I no longer had my twin brother. That the one I had shared all of my life with for the past 29 ½ years was now gone. I had called Mom while driving down and knew that I must contact her on the phone as they were at work and lived three hours away. When she picked up, I still not believing that he was for sure dead, told her in a broken voice to pray really hard. She immediately knew that something was wrong and asked, “What’s wrong Jeremy, What’s wrong.” I said, “Jamie’s plane has gone down.” How do you tell your mother such horrible news. I told her that I would call her when I knew Jamie’s condition. I was holding onto hope. Finally I called her I think while I was there at Southern and confirmed what she already knew via the internet. It took me I guess a journey of 90 miles to finally accept the sad reality of Jamie’s death. I also called Tina earlier and had to tell her the sad truth on the phone because I knew she might find out from someone else if not. While I sat there alone in that parking lot at Southern, I did a three way call with Tina and Erin who was in Calhoun, and together we prayed for help. We agreed to all go to Erin and Jamie’s home and I headed there. When I got there, I looked at pictures, talked with Erin and friends. Trying to absorb the reality that was dreadfully painful. I remember that night as we stood around the kitchen, I heard the chime of their clock strike midnight. This awful day had passed. The last day of Jamie’s life had passed. That chime was memorable. Later, I pulled up Jamie’s email. There I saw an email reviewing the flight schedule and list. There was Jamie’s name blatantly clear on the screen. I then looked through some of his pictures and saw one of him in shorts. To see his legs, which look like my own, and imagine his skin damaged, to imagine his body burned and damaged lying in some cold forest floor caused my heart to ache and I cried in pain. That night as I lay in bed, my body would shake with pain. It was like life was a painful prison because you wished you could escape the pain. But God has sustained me and has wiped away my tears and comforted my aching heart. Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.

As days are passing, as the reality is becoming more real in my mind, I thank God that I still have life. Jamie and I in a sense served as ambassadors for each other. We would answer to Jamie or Jeremy. We knew that if a stranger smiled and said Hi, we were likely meeting a friend of our brother. To walk into a store together was exciting because you had someone special with you, someone that made you unique. Many twins struggle with identity problems, not us. Jamie was a person that I didn’t mind being mixed up with. I trusted him to represent me rightly and I hope and think he felt the same. And when we were together, we enjoyed sharing with others the excitement of being a twin. “Are you twins?” was a common question but one I never tired of. I will miss those question., I will miss being mistaken for my brother. I will miss walking into a room with him and sharing in the joy of being viewed as a twin. Though Jamie can no longer represent me, I will seek to do so for him. Others may now see what Jamie would have looked like as he got older. But more than that, I will keep smiling, laughing, communicating and sharing like Jamie. For that was his mission as is mine and now I will seek to do for both of us what we once shared in accomplishing. Come soon Jesus so that I can share life once again with my brother, my twin, my friend. And thank you Jesus for the gift of Jamie, that I along with my parents and others enjoyed for 29 1/2 years.

12/21/2004 - 19 days since the crash

Friday morning after the crash, I remember waking up early. I believe it was around 5 in the morning. I had only slept a few hours and woke up to a world without Jamie. Tina was so kind as I struggled with the pain. After a short while we heard crying in the next room and went in to find Erin already awake and crying in that lonely bedroom. Soon Mom and Dad arrived after having driven through the morning hours. They never slept that night. We cried together and talked about how we desired to quickly get to the crash site so as to hopefully see the wreckage. Maybe to some it's strange but I wanted more than anything to see what happened and to see where Jamie was and his condition. If there was any window of opportunity to get in past that yellow tape, we wanted to be there. So we met Pastor Ed Wright at the Collegedale church and followed him over to the crash site around 9:30 that morning. None of us had been there yet. As we pulled up there were emergency vehicles and firemen all around. In fact one of the firemen there introduced himself right away and told me he had worked with Jamie on the Strawberry Festival at Southern. For some reason, those words were comforting to hear. We parked along the side of the road and walked up to the yellow tape which blocked off a field which was in front of the trees where the crash took place. I couldn't help but think about the fact that some may be taken back by the fact that someone looking like Jamie was there at the crash site. But I guess for many of the workers, I no longer looked like the Jamie they saw in the field. Boy was that a hard and sad reality. To no longer be mistaken for Jamie was and is a very lonely feeling. The field that Jamie had hoped to land on was now serving as a barrier to the crash site. It was a sunny cold morning. We talked with the Sheriff who didn't give us much hope as to getting back there. We would spend most of the day at the site waiting for any opportunity to learn information. It just didn't seem right that your own flesh and blood could be withheld from family. Media trucks pulled up and wanted to film the scene and later would interview Erin and me. We figured Jamie would want us to respond to the media. Pastor Arnold, my mentor pastor at Bowman Hills, spent the day with us as did Pastor Wright from Collegedale. Another local pastor came up to us later in the morning and told us he knew a way to get closer to the site. We followed him as we walked up to the back property of a church member which was maybe 150 feet or so from the crash. For the first time we were seeing parts of the plane in the distance. The view was still obstructed in many ways due to the trees but you could see pieces. When we got there they were removing bodies. I couldn't see very well though and soon they began holding a sheet up to prevent us from seeing what they were doing. It was hard thinking they were taking my brother off without me even being able to see him. It was especially hard to think of him being left to sit outside throughout the night under the cold night sky. I know he was dead but still. I just wish I could have come up to him right after the accident to know his condition. As each hour passed I realized I was getting further and further from the truth of the accident. Sure I could listen to reports but I wouldn't know first hand. I just can't explain how frustrating this was. Soon we would see the ambulance drive speedily off with the bodies, not just bodies, but the bodies of our loved ones.

Well meaning people told me I wouldn't want to see him and perhaps they were right. But yet for me, it would have helped if I could have known where he landed and know how he died? Not knowing how he landed and not knowing what killed him is one of the hardest things about this ordeal. The puzzle is missing a couple of pieces and just like a real puzzle, it's VERY frustrating when your missing a piece. Later that evening we went home, only to turn back around because we learned they were about to open the crash site to the public. We drove the hour back to the crash site and saw quite a site. With darkness all around, large bright lights shown onto the trees along the field. A flat bed type truck was nearby with the plane wreckage. With the use of flashlights, we briefly look ed at the wreckage, though part of it was covered with plastic and I never saw any of the seats. The plane was torn all to pieces. We finally walked into the field up to the woods. As we crossed over a little bridge in the woods, we looked at a ashen site where the bodies had been. Evidently from what we understand, the pilot and one passenger was on one side of a tree and a few feet away on the other side of the tree lay the other three. This was what I understood the sheriff to say. Of course everything was a little sketchy. I wept as I beheld the scene where my brother had died. Just over a day ago Jamie had been alive and he had boarded that plane with the expectation that he would be seeing me in about an hour. What went through his mind as that plane began to experience trouble? What were his thoughts? What went through his mind as the plane made it's initial contact with the tree limbs? How long did he experience fear when he realized that they weren't going to make it to the field? Did he think his life was over? Was he praying, crying or just thinking? These are questions that repeatedly cross through my mind. For the one survivor of that crash to have come out as well as he did, I believe God's hand is clearly evident. It's as though God's fingerprint is left behind. I am thankful Jim Huff survived and I know that God has big plan for his life. That he's not ready for Jim to rest yet. But this tells me that God was okay with letting the rest fall asleep. After all, God is stronger than Satan. God could have saved the entire crew just like He did with Jim. The crew did have prayer prior to take off. God was watching that plane. But evidently, God thought it okay or maybe best to let these few men go to sleep now in death to rest until He comes. Maybe through this crisis, someone will come back to God or give their heart to the Lord. Maybe as you read this, you are sensing that person is you. Don't reject the prompting of the Holy Spirit. I beg of you. Life is to uncertain as I was reminded with this incident. I may never know until heaven why He allowed this awful thing to happen to Jamie. But I can only trust that Jamie is better off resting now than living. I can't help but think though. What would Jamie have been like as a Daddy? And if time were to last long enough, what would it have been like to be an old man some day and have a twin that was just as old? Would we have still laughed as hard together when we were old as we had in our youth? What would the future have held for him? I console myself with the fact that Jamie died at the peak of his life and that he won't have to experience the pains of aging, nor the heartache of losing a parent. For Jamie, he began his flight with the intention of seeing me and eating together. I trust both will come true, except we won't be meeting at a brick church, nor will we be eating at a family restaurant. Instead we will be meeting in a city with gates of pearl and a banqueting table fit for the King of Kings. It's almost like he fell asleep while on the plane, and when he awakes, he will ascend with his guardian angel on that resurrection morning to that beautiful cloud where Jesus sits. As we travel to the heavenly kingdom, I know it will be crowded and I can't imagine traveling on a cloud with so many people. But I sure hope I get to ride beside Jamie. I can't wait to touch him again, to embrace and tell him how much I had been looking forward to our appointment together. Boy I am excited.

12/26/2004 - 24 days since the crash

Christmas is now over. While it's at this time of year that we are drawn to think about family and in cases like ours, family we've lost, I must say I am in a way glad it all happened at this time of year. Christmas is a time where we are made to feel happy. Even though pain has occurred in our lives, the lights and festivities all help to make you happy. Christmas is also a time where the family is expected to gather and make a memory together. Christmas is a time when people from all over the world are taking time to be still, to be happy, and to lay aside the hectic activity of their daily lives for one day. It's a time of reflection and joy, and even though they aren't all stopping to think about Jamie, it is kind of nice to know that the rest of the world has paused to be still as we have.

Christmas evening my family gathered around the tree at our home and opened presents. Mom and Dad had already purchased Jamie's presents. While they returned one small item, they kept the rest and gave them to Erin and me. Erin opened a scrabble game that Jamie was to receive. Then I received a tie and pair of shoes on his behalf. Jamie had asked for this particular pair of shoes for Christmas. They were burgundy dress shoes. Jamie and I of course both wore the same size shoe. I will treasure these shoes. I will seek to take really good care of them as I know he would have. I sure wish he could have worn them at least once and then I have them. So often we wore each others clothes growing up. I miss that. I enjoyed dressing like him so much. The morning of the crash Jamie called to finalize details on Christmas at their house. We were going to share in exchanging of gifts the weekend after he died. That was of course changed due to the crash. But he was anxious to share with us the gifts they had gathered for us. Tina and I opened those gifts tonight. One item they had bought but two of the items were things they had owned that they wanted us to have. Jamie was excited I know to share them with us because he thought they would look nice in our home. He always liked to make things look nice. So it was that tonight I opened my last gift from Jamie. I can't wait until the resurrection. There isn't any material thing here on earth that will mean anything to someone going to heaven, so I will just have to give Jamie an embrace and share with him my love when we see each other again. That will have to be his gift from me because by that point we will be on our trip to heaven. Death puts life into perspective.

12/31/2004 - 29 days since the crash

As the world spins upon it’s imaginary axis, people have been celebrating the entrance of a new year every hour since around 7 this morning. I awoke this morning in a hospital room where I had spent the night with my Dad who had surgery yesterday. As I sat in my chair I reflected for a while about the past year and what I hope to accomplish in the year to come. As I think about this transition in time, I can’t help but struggle with the reality that time moves on and Jamie is left behind. As I have mentioned repeatedly, I do have the wonderful hope in the resurrection, but the pain of him not being here now is still very hard. I have mixed feelings as I enter into this new year. I feel excitement about the possibilities that a new year offers. But I also feel deep sadness as I consider what I am leaving behind. I feel a degree of loneliness as I prepare for this new year. Of course I am not alone for I have my wonderful wife & parents as well as friends, and most of all God. Yet no one can replace the void left by Jamie. Thus a key part of my life came crashing down in 2004 and I am unable to bring it back.

I remember shortly after Jamie died it occurred to me that he was no longer the older brother. In reality he never was older. I mean if we were both conceived at the same time, then he really only saw the light of day first by 7 minutes. But those 7 minutes marked him as the “older” twin. Because he had experienced 7 crying minutes before me, he was seen as the eldest son. However when he died, I quickly though unknowingly for the first hour, became older in the sense that I had experienced more life than him. Maybe that’s a stretch and I really don’t care, but it was awfully sad to realize that no longer were we experiencing life together, growing old together, and learning together. No longer were we in sync together. I had left him behind and that's hard.

Here I sit on the eve of a new year, waiting to begin a year without Jamie. When big news comes my way, I won’t be able to call Jamie up and tell him and then make him promise not to tell Mom and Dad before I do. I won’t be able to look forward to who has children first or find out if we were going to have them at the same time. I won’t be able to go to conference meetings and admire Jamie running around in his professional way carrying out his work in communications. I won’t be able to sit in a workers meeting and look across the room at Jamie and catch his attention and grin really big in an effort to get him to grin really big back. I won’t be able to hear those familiar words from him on the phone, “Hey Jer, what are you doing?” I won’t be able to meet him for lunch during camp-meeting next summer. We won’t be able to tell each other happy birthday anymore. We won’t be able to compare cameras or pictures anymore. So as I sit and make goals for the new year, I do so realizing I can’t share them with him. I remember last year he asked me what my new years resolutions were as we visited together at his house one night. I wish he were here to ask again.

But I am making plans and goals for the new year just the same because the earth is still spinning and time continues just as it has. While I continue with my life, I will tuck away in my heart the promise of the resurrection and the knowledge that Jamie sleeps for now, while I remain alive and awake. Evidently, God still has work for me to do and thus I will move forward. I will hang pictures of Jamie in the meantime not only on my walls, but also in my heart, and these I will treasure until I can once again see his face at the resurrection. May God bless us all as we enter into the year 2005.

1/07/2004 - 36 days since the crash

It used to be that when we were separated, I would think of things that I needed to remember to tell Jamie when I saw him next time. I am afraid my list is getting to be too long now to remember. I find that when I fill my thoughts of church and the things of day to day life, I am not as sad and down. But windows appear periodically where the emotions swell up and overflow in the form of tears. The window may appear when I hear a song or think a thought. Then all over again, the harsh reality that Jamie is gone sinks in. That I won’t see him walking up with that grin and enthusiasm that he had when we got together. Those thoughts, though redundant and stale to some are fresh and striking for me. But though I will never get to talk to him until the resurrection, though I will never be able to touch him or laugh with him until this world comes to an end, I hold on to pictures, memories, and stories. For these are the things that offer a glimpse into what once was. A glimpse into the joy that God gave to me for the first 29 ½ years of my life. When I have children, I will try and recreate for them the excitement and joy that Jamie offered. I will tell them that there was once someone who looked like their Daddy. That there was once someone who laughed like their Daddy and sounded like their Daddy. I will show them the pictures and tell them the stories, and watch as their little eyes fill with wonder. Since Tina is a twin, at least they will know something of what I am talking about. I had always thought it would be so neat for their aunt and uncle to look like their mom and dad. I hope they are intrigued by such stories and pictures. I think they will if they are anything like Jamie and me. Mom said that the weekend before the crash, Jamie was sitting in front of a audio cassette player listening to a tape of us when we were babies and to what we used to sound like. Jamie treasured those type things and thus I think that when we have children they will be the same. If I had been the one that died, I know Jamie would have been busy gathering pictures, making DVD’s, and documenting stories. That was what Jamie did. So I am going to continue to do the same by gathering more photos, posting his photographic artwork, and gathering stories for that is what he would have done for me. For now, I will simply treasure these things, for they are the things that will have to hold me over until I see him again. Though I know he is sleeping in the grave, it feels good to send into the vast reaches of cyber space the memories, stories and pictures of the beautiful person of Jamie.

1/14/2004 - 43 days since the crash

As I was pulling out of Wal-Mart earlier this week, it occurred to me that one of the last phone calls I had shared with Jamie had been while I was driving in that same spot. Simple little reminders of what I once took for granted. Who would have thought. While life is starting to pick back up and deadlines, appointments, and the stuff of life fill my days, I still am reminded of what once was. As I prepare projects or come up with ideas, I am repeatedly reminded that I can't share them with Jamie as I once did. I can't help but think that this type of thinking will be with me for the rest of my life. That throughout the course of life, as precious moments cross my path, I will each time be reminded that Jamie isn't here to share them with. When I experience some day the joy of holding a new born child, I will be reminded that I can't share it with Jamie. When I am driving Tina to the hospital for the delivery, I won't be able to call him up and say it's time. Does this mean that all the beautiful things of life will be tainted. Have I discovered a thorn as I hold my rose. All of my life, joy has been plentiful and pain has been scarce. I have heard of people loosing their loved ones due to violence, accident, or sickness. But it was always someone else for the most part. Now that the unbelievable has happened to me, I realize more vividly that this life while pleasurable in many respects, is not enough. I am reminded that this isn't how God originally intended it to be. So while I enjoy the precious moments that come my way, I remind myself that these are but glimpses into what is ahead. That indeed the day is coming when the rose won't have thorns and death won't interrupt our joy. I look forward to that time. From now on, I think I am less likely to loose site of what's ahead regardless of how much joy comes my way. For while it is good to enjoy the gifts God gives, we must always allow those gifts to remind us of who's coming instead of thinking of the gift alone.. So as I experience the joys of life, I will be better reminded of not only the loss of Jamie but of the promise of a Saviour and a resurrection morning.

1/21/2004 - 50 days since the crash

It's hard to imagine that Jamie has missed this much of life already. I am not sure I have any new insights into what life is like without Jamie right now. It's just the same repetitive pain that comes day after day. Something happens and you think of Jamie or you think of something you would like to share with him. I drove up in the drive way the other day and just sat and reflected for a while about him. People talk about how you heal over time and such but I am trying to imagine what that looks like. The only way I am able to not feel the bitter pain is to try and not think about it. To try and fill my time with activity. Part of me wants to think about Jamie and just sit and reflect but then other times, I hate the pain so much that I don't want to sit and reflect. It's amazing to think that all the time I have experienced since Dec. 2, 2004 and am going to experience until Jesus comes or I die, will be but a moment for Jamie. That's comforting.

2/11/2004 - 71 days since the crash

Today I received a letter from someone I don't even know. However he is a twinless twin too and wrote an eleven page letter to me. As I read his letter, I could see there was someone who had experienced much of what I had. Of course our experiences weren't identical but we each had identical twins and that created a bond that was evident on paper. Though I needed to hurry for an appointment, I quickly read through his eleven page letter, pausing momentarily at the spots that were so familiar. To lose a twin is indeed a unique situation. I am not sure many understand except for those who have gone through it. Not that it isn't a tragedy for all of us, especially the spouses, but to lose someone that looked like you, to lose part of your identity is hard to say the least. It's almost like the world is quieter, as if part of your presence is gone. Sure, we lived hours apart, but we were still one in a sense. People would get you mixed up or what have you and that was exciting. Jamie and I dressed alike all during our growing up years and would argue at times over what to wear because we would rather dress alike than wear what we wanted. (Usually we agreed.) The thoughts that pass through your mind are hard to express sometimes but it's so hard to think of your brother dying and you not experiencing it too. Not that I want to, but being left behind is very, well, it's very awkward I guess. I went back to the crash site with our family the other day and reviewed the crash again. It was hard to imagine Jamie dying there. After visiting the crash site, we went to the Collegedale Airport and tried to imagine what it must have been like in those final moments of his life. It's hard knowing that life has moved on, that the world is still going on as it did and that it halted for him back in December of last year. That's so hard to imagine. The State of the Union was on the other night and as I watched it, I thought to myself, most likely Jamie would have been watching this. We would have asked each other if we watched it and what we thought of it. To watch it without him doing so too is again, very odd. That may sound strange but the feeling of experiencing life without him is lonely. Time goes on and I follow the path that's laid before me in faith that the second coming is closer now than it was on December 2, 2004. It will be here before we know it. At least Jamie sleeps now. I look forward to seeing him in the resurrection morning.

3/2/2005 - 90 days since the crash

Today makes three months since that tragic accident. Time is beginning to distance us from the life that Jamie lived so beautifully. In the three months since his death, I have had opportunity to share with others what it's been like going through this grief. It's felt good to share. I believe now more than ever that the best way to help a grieving person is to give them permission to share with you their thoughts. It's great to have people who are truly interested in listening, who want to know more about what it was like to have a twin like Jamie. It's been comforting to have people want to listen and hear about what happened on December 2. I understand from reading that often hurting people want to first recount and relive experiences they enjoyed with the person they've lost. That is so true. The books say that eventually one learns to say goodbye to the relationship they enjoyed with the person who died. I am still waiting for that I think. Last night, as I drove home from a meeting, I cried like a baby all over again, as I shuttered at the thought of Jamie's office being used by someone else. It's so hard to say goodbye to those we love so deeply. I guess you like to think that they are just temporarily gone, that if things are left in place, eventually they will be used again by the one we've lost. Of course I know this isn't true but I wonder if at times subconsciously we feel this way.

I remember when Jamie and I were little, sometimes we would have to crawl under the bed to get something. I can remember the panic I would feel sometimes when doing this. I think I have a mild case of Closter phobia I think. But this is how I felt when Jamie died. I can still remember shuttering in bed that night and crying because of the pain. Your body would tremble and you felt trapped and helpless. It's a horrible feeling. HORRIBLE.

Over the last three months, I have had some difficult days but I have also had some very happy ones. I often wonder how Jamie would have reacted if I had been the one to have died and he had been left to live. I think his experience would have been similar in many ways. But I believe he would have continued enjoying beauty and laughter. I walked into a store this past Sunday and there lay the plaque that hung in Jamie's kitchen. Live, Laugh, and Love. These are the qualities I will continue to carry forth, now with greater gusto since Jamie isn't here. I want to love more, laugh harder, and live better. For now I want to accomplish what once we could have accomplished together.

3/28/2005 - 116 days since the crash

It's been a few weeks since I last wrote in this journal. Thus I would like to catch up a bit. There are signs of spring at our home right now. The trees are budding and daffodils are decorating the landscape. Signs of life are budding all around. It’s refreshing. In fact I saw a beautiful blue bird in our yard this morning. Frequently I find myself thinking how Jamie loved to make things beautiful. He loved landscaping his yard with his wife. Yesterday Tina and I were trying to figure out where to place a dogwood tree in our yard. Tina asked, where would Jamie put it. We did our best to place it, though we wished we had had Jamie's expert opinion.

A couple of weeks ago, I emailed a friend about what I was feeling regarding Jamie's death. Here’s a portion of that email:

Everyday of course we think of Jamie. It's right now almost 6:30am on a Sabbath and as I was getting ready for church, I found myself thinking of Jamie, how he would burst forth from his shower all excited about a new day. His hair would be sticking up all over wet and he would be so full of enthusiasm, refreshed from his shower. How I would love to hear him say, "oh jeremy Jeremy Jeremy!" The Georgia-Cumberland Conference is in the process of finding someone to fill his position which is good and sad all at the same time. We made a day trip down to Calhoun last Sunday to visit with Erin. She had just returned from a mission trip to India. She enjoyed it, but it was hard for her as she returned to an empty home. She had a stamp art party last Sunday afternoon and that helped her in focusing her attentions on something else. That evening after every one had left, Tina and I ate supper with Erin at the house. Many a night Tina and I had left Cleveland to go eat supper with Jamie and Erin and spent the night. It was sad as one chair sat empty. We had homemade pizza, a meal we had often shared with Erin & Jamie. When the meal was over, there was just enough pizza for one more person. That should have been Jamie. Earlier that day, Tina and I had left for a short while to visit Jamie's grave. The dirt had settled and you could see the edges of the whole. There is a little green sign with his name, age and dates of birth and death. I stood there on top of his grave painfully aware that this was as close as I will ever be to him until the resurrection. Of course I know that there is but a shell of a body down there, charred and beaten but it's so hard knowing that that's all that's left of my twin brother. Tears well up now as I think of it.

I also stood at the foot of his grave and faced eastward with the wonderful hope inside that for him, it will be but a moment before he will stand in that very spot, greeted by his angel and escorted into that beautiful cloud before him. What a hope we have.

A week ago, I attended a meeting in Knoxville where leaders from our conference gave reports on how God is blessing in our region. It was the type of meeting where I would normally have seen Jamie. Typically at a meeting like that, Jamie would have been dressed up in his suit, taking care of audio visual and making a presentation as well. He would have come up to us and said to Tina and me, "Hey Guys." As I was visiting with friends and associates after the meeting, all of a sudden the emotions spilled over and the tears welled up. I took Tina's hand and tried to exit as quickly as possible. Upon getting in the car, I began to drive us home through tears. Though Tina offered to drive, I wanted to as I drove the same roads I had driven the day I left that same church when finding out Jamie's plane had gone down. At times you think you are doing better and yet something triggers it and the tears pour forth.

I think I am getting more used to missing Jamie if that makes sense. But still when I allow myself to think of the fact that his body was charred and no longer moves, it's hard and painful. But I am thankful he sleeps, awaiting the resurrection. Sometimes on a long trip, it's nice to fall asleep because you seem to arrive at your destination quicker. For Jamie, that will be the case. But while I am awake, I will seek to take in the beauty around me, to take in the sights, share the Good News of Jesus as I eagerly anticipate the arrival when Jesus comes in the clouds of Glory to wake Jamie up and take us all home.

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5/13/2005 - 162 days since the crash

I woke up this morning because of a nightmare I had dreamed. I awoke with my body literally trembling as I realized that this nightmare was true. The last two weeks have been particularly rough for some reason. It’s been some time since I wrote in my journal here, not because I haven’t thought of him daily, but because I haven’t known how to put it into words. I did write once a while back but then suddenly lost it due to a computer problem. It’s after midnight on a Friday evening right now. We got in late from a Bible study and I came in my office for a few moments. As I was about to go to bed, I paused to look at the picture of Jamie & me laughing, the same one which is at the top of this page. I have that picture hanging on my wall in my office here at home next to the door. I have it printed in sepia tone and as I looked at him, I traced his teeth with my eyes, realizing that his mouth was damaged by the medical examiner. I looked at the expression of his face, laughter and happiness all over and desired to look at him more. I then went over and sat at the computer and looked at more images from that day when we took pictures in his backyard. The best I can tell, these pictures were taken a year ago this coming Sunday on May 15, 2004. We were nearing our birthday at that point and I think we may have even celebrated that night. That night we both had our cameras out and were taking lots of pictures. Tina, and I think Erin, both took tons of pictures that night of Jamie & myself together. I treasure these pictures now. I miss him, I miss him so much. After I looked through some of these pictures, I placed a few videos with no labels into my camera to see if I could find some footage of Jamie. I quickly discovered some footage I shot at his wedding. He looked sharp. Somehow, looking at the footage you almost forget for a moment that he’s gone. His mannerisms and ways are so familiar that you just enjoy it and almost forget about his death. As I scrolled through the folders of pictures on the computer, I saw one folder entitled, Jamie's funeral. Those words are so strange. It’s still, even after 5 months, hard to believe.

I am scheduled to be ordained in a few weeks on May 27. This is during campmeeting. Then two days later I turn 30. Two huge milestones in life, both without Jamie. Campmeeting was always special because I got to see Jamie at work. We usually tried to eat together and our birthday usually fell during campmeeting. This year it isn’t actually during campmeeting. I know in reason that we would have done something together being a holiday weekend and being off work. Turning 30 is a big deal, but we would be going through it together. I’ve never known a birthday without him. I was always thankful to have him by me when people would sing happy birthday. It was fun blowing out the candles together. It was all less embarrassing when you could share in it together.

Some days go by and you simply go through the day enjoying life and when thoughts of Jamie cross your mind you simply think of how it would be nice to have him here but that’s not possible. On the good days, you move your thoughts along so as to avoid a collision with pain and sadness. But then other times you allow your mind to return to thoughts of that horrid day in December and you think about the reality of Jamie’s heart no longer beating, no more thoughts going through his head and pain swells up inside overflowing in the form of tears. Sometimes your body almost wants to literally writhe with pain like it did the hours after the crash. So far, this month of May has been hard. I thought it was getting better after the first week and then I woke up this morning.

It’s so hard to want something so bad and know it’s impossible to have. Sometimes I think about the fact that Jamie is in a casket under that red Georgia clay and that his body is losing it’s form and shape as he returns to dust. It’s just so premature. It’s so hard to look at his neck in pictures and think that it was broken. It’s so hard to see his eyes in pictures and think that in an instant they became fixed. To think that his thoughts suddenly ceased and his heart immediately quit beating. Does this sound brash and sick? I think it does. But that's just it. This is what makes it so painful. These horrid things have happened. To think that these things did occur. To think that these things did happen to the one you loved so much. To realize that no longer do I have someone who looks like me. This is what makes it all so agonizing.

Tina and I were talking tonight as we drove home about how the last time we saw Jamie was when we were saying good bye at the airport where he dropped us off for our trip to Venezuela. Though we talked on the phone after our return, our paths never crossed. Though I wished we could have spent the Thanksgiving holiday together it didn't get to happen. I am thankful though that the last thing we did together was hug.

When Jesus returns, I look forward to giving Jamie another hug. For now though, I will simply hold close the memories of days gone by and the dreams of that day to come.

5/25/2005 - 178 days since the crash

This past weekend was incredibly touching. Our church family here in Crossville managed to keep a secret for several weeks about a surprise they had planned for Sabbath, May 21st. At the conclusion of the worship service at church, our head elder appeared from the side of the platform with a card and announcement. I didn't see the gift he had hidden. He went on to explain how the church loved us and wanted to share a gift with us on the eve of my ordination and birthday. He then pulled out this large blue present. Tina assisted me as I carefully tore the paper to reveal the gift inside. Though it was large, I could only imagine a plaque or something. But to my delight, I discovered a beautifully done picture of Jamie and me taken last year. It had that painted look like portraits have. It's the same picture as the one on the homepage of my website. It was beautifully framed with a little plaque the read, "the twins." I was immediately overcome with emotion as I realized what they had done and the innate response to want to share it with Jamie emerged. All I could say was, "That's my brother." It was so moving to have my church family share such a gift for it demonstrated their understanding over such an incredible loss. It feels good when others express thoughts and interest in the one you've lost. Afterwards we enjoyed a surprise fellowship meal at the gym.

7/22/2005 - 232 days since the crash

It's almost 12:30am on an early Friday morning. I decided to come in here to my office as sleep was not coming easily. It's been quite a while since I recorded my thoughts on here. A lot has happened since my last post. But through it all, one stark reality hasn't changed, Jamie is gone. Moments ago I found myself replaying what it was like to feel his charred body in the funeral home. What it must have been like as he collided into those trees. I came in here an looked at the last few pictures taken of him. His big grin and innocence. Little did he know he had only a few days left.

I must say God has given me strength in the days since Jamie's death. You periodically find yourself either wanting to cry or crying over not having him around anymore. But then God fills my days with happiness and purpose, allowing life to move on, though the thoughts of Jamie are carried as a treasure in my heart. As I briefly mentioned above in an earlier post, our church family here in Crossville gave us a beautiful gift for my Ordination and Birthday. The planning and effort they put into the surprise and gift was so meaningful and touching. It really was a comfort and encouraged me as I entered into the difficult days ahead. Those days included my ordination and birthday. Both times of usual celebration, but times that were now accompanied by sadness as I realized more acutely the absence of Jamie. At the ordination service which was held at the conference camp meeting on a Friday night, I saw Jamie's assistant taking pictures of the event, something that I had seen Jamie do often at events similar to this. That night a video was shown that was edited by Jamie's coworker. It was a video where each pastoral candidate was interviewed in their local church setting allowing those attending the ceremony to understand better where they worked and their calling to ministry. In my interview I had mentioned how Jamie had affirmed me in my calling, and that there was something about the way he said it, the look and tone of voice that suggested he wasn't telling everything he was thinking but that he was very serious and meant every word when he said I should continue in Pastoral Ministry. The video then showed a picture of Jamie and me and gave the date of his death. When I saw this that night for the first time, I cried wishing so badly he was here. I pulled out that same video last week and watched it and again found myself crying. I wish he could have been there for that night. I would have loved to heard what he had to say and to have seen his expressions as he congratulated me at this special time in my life..

A couple of days later was our birthday. We went to the grave site that morning on our birthday and we put flowers on the grave and planted grass seed as it was still mostly dirt. He would want it fixed up nicely. So I brought grass seed and hay and Jamie's wife picked some roses off their rose bush to lay across his grave. Though a grave stone has since been ordered, at the time there was still only a marker. In a few weeks, the stone should arrive and we plan to go see it. but for his birthday, we fixed his grave up much like we fixed graves up growing up. I remember when we were kids, we fixed up a grave site for a dead bird we found and decorated it with acorns. When our dog died, we found a large stone and placed it as a head stone and made a cross out of sticks and fixed up her grave nicely. Then for a dog that died out at our granny's home, we fixed up a fancy grave site. So I know Jamie would have been pleased that on our birthday, we fixed up his grave all pretty. It looked like a little country grave the way it was fixed. I will post a picture here so you can see.

Mom and Dad and Erin (Jamie's wife) and Tina celebrated with me for my birthday. I didn't want them to sing happy birthday as it was always awkward without Jamie and was simply something I didn't want to experience without him. Something that was particularly touching and meaningful, was the gift I opened from Erin. She gave me a present in a rather large box. When I opened it, I found two other wrapped packages, except these were wrapped in Christmas paper. I soon realized that these were a couple of presents that she had gotten for Jamie at Christmas, presents he had never been able to open. One box contained a shirt and sweater vest, and the other a dress shirt. I will treasure these gifts. It was such a bitter sweet moment, but a gift I will always treasure.

After our birthday passed, we began planning a vacation with my folks. We recently returned from a trip out west with Mom and Dad which was very enjoyable and priceless. After Jamie died, you realize that if you are going to do stuff like that, you had better not wait. Such an experience as we shared would be something Jamie would have wanted to know all about. He would have wanted to see the pictures and would have asked questions right and left. But instead, through it all, his body rested in a little grave in Calhoun, GA. It's so hard to know he's missing out on it all. Yet there is a peace too in knowing that he doesn't have to suffer any heartache or pain that the days ahead are sure to bring at some point or another. Already so much has happened. Our other grandmother died the day after her birthday this past May. Her birthday was on ours. I can still remember when our other grandmother died in August of last year. I was in the car heading to church to make final preparations for my sermon when I got a call on my cell phone. Jamie was on the other line telling me the news.

So it is that Jamie rests quietly, unknowingly, in a little grave in Calhoun, GA. He hears nothing, sees nothing, experiences nothing. That is until that beautiful resurrection morning. His story here on earth ended at the age of 29. My story continues as I am now 30. The joys as well as the sorrows are as strokes upon the canvas of life. With each new stroke, my testimony becomes richer. My story more intricate. It's my prayer that my story will testify of God's mercy and grace, of his love and power which comforts me when I hurt and empowers me when I share.

04/14/2006 - 498 days since the crash

It's spring again. It's been well over a half year since I've done any journaling on here. A lot has happened since my last entry. On the year anniversary of his death, we had a big get together at Cohutta Springs where a memorial has been placed for the five men who lost their life on the plane. It's a nice spot. I will post pictures sometime. The anniversary of his death came and went and wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Other days have been harder. I say harder. I don't know if that's the right words. It's not like it's harder or easier, it just is. Your riding in your car and the reality sinks in all over again. Your waking up in the morning and the reality hits you. Just this week, I dreamt more than once about Jamie. I would wake up and realize that his face is still familiar. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I can't remember him, but you don't typically run through his expressions in your mind from day to day. But in the dream, what a neat experience to see his face moving. I know it was only a dream and though it was sad, it still was nice to remember. It's like in my dream I know he's dead or that he's supposed to die, but I push the idea away so as to entertain the dream. I don't know, I find the best way to go through the day to day is to simply not dwell on it. I allow myself to think about it from time to time and where does it get me. People talk about how you need to grieve, you need to talk about it. And yes, I enjoy sharing with others about Jamie -- I love talking about him and explaining to people what it was like to have a twin brother and what my twin was like, but it's only history now. It doesn't bring him back. It only reminds us that he's gone. Of course I don't want him to be forgotten. I want to maintain his memory, almost as an honor to him. But yet, the pain is sometimes to high a cost. Sometimes it's easier to just move on with what's at hand. To focus on the stuff of life. To keep busy. The only thing the gives me comfort is the assurance of second coming. The assurance that the story will continue one day. But for now, as we move on with the daily stuff of life, I almost prefer to pretend he's just gone right now. And in a sense I guess that true. He's asleep, resting in the grave.
When Jamie first died, I would often think to myself thoughts like, "Oh, I wish I could share this with him," or "what would he think of this?" But now, I don't think of those thoughts as often. It's almost like the normalcy of him being around has left somewhat. I am more used to him not being around. Not that I like it or am happy with it, but just more accustomed to it. It's like you have to learn a new way of life. That's just the way it is. I hear about so much pain and suffering in the world. I do think losing a sibling, someone so close enables you to empathize much more. Now when I hear of someone losing a loved one, I think of the real trauma it's caused in their life. I realize that while it may be a fleeting thought on the newscast or in my mind, that somewhere a family is grieving. Somewhere a family will remember this date in time. Somewhere a family has been dramatically affected and tears and suffering will linger for days and days to come while for others it will be over and forgotten.

Jamie worked at the conference office as a communication director. Since that tragic Thursday in December, a lot of transitions and developments have had to occur to continue the work and mission of our church and it's ministries. Jamie's position had to be filled as did the other men's positions. Then people who took those positions had to have their positions refilled. Just recently, our new conference president had his position filled at the church where he once pastored. I thought to myself, that's all taking place because of that fateful plane crash in 2004. Interesting how things transpire.

Near the 1 year anniversary of Jamie's death, I led out in a service on grief at our church. I showed pictures of Jamie, I read parts of my journal to my church family, and we shared together. That was probably one of the most helpful things I did during that anniversary period. For me, sharing with people the good things about Jamie and our special relationship means more to me than most things. I love to share the beauty of the gift I enjoyed for a short while.

I am 498 days older than Jamie ever lived now. It's hard to believe that much time has gone by. I look at our pictures together and I still feel like we look the same, but I know the day is coming when I will compare pictures of then and now and say, he looks younger. That will be so hard. Sounds strange perhaps but he was always older. Not really but we said he was. We were aging together and now we are not. Minor I know. Maybe it's selfish but not really I don't think because it's not that I care so much about getting older and looking older than him, it's that I don't have him to share the experience with. I loved sharing experiences with him. Yes, I share experiences with others like Tina and my folks and friends. Those are special too but different. Like I've said before, your twin is like your first spouse. You faced the world together in the beginning and you've faced each new challenge together. That's special. That's unique. That's something many don't get to experience. So I had something special going on for 29 1/2 years.

There are times since his death where I have said aloud the name Jamie. I will be riding in the car and just start saying the name. I will use different inflections like I would have if he were there. It's sad when you realize you don't say it anymore. As you say the name aloud as though he were there, you are reminded of that experience which once was. You long for that to return. I can see how Satan could deceive people by having his evil angels impersonate the dead. I can see now the appeal that would have for those who have lost a loved one. I can see better why he has tried to deceive so many with regards to the state of the dead and has brought so much confusion on the matter. If I didn't know that Jamie was asleep in the grave, that he knows nothing until the resurrection moring, I would be much more grieved and tormented now. But knowing that because of the scriptures which plainly articulate the fact that Jamie knows nothing (Eccl. 9:5), that he has returned to dust (Gen 2:7 & Eccl. 12:7), and that he awaits the resurrection (1 Thess. 4:13-18 & Rev. 20) I have peace. But so many lose loved ones and think they are in heaven or that they are alive somewhere in the cosmos or simply wonder where they are. But since the moment Jamie died, at least I have had that peace. I am convinced that he now rests and knows nothing. I believe that he awaits the resurrection. I find this belief comforting. Not that I choose to believe it for that reason. I just do believe it. I believe it like I believe in the law of gravity or two plus two equals four. There's peace in such knowledge.

Well, the thoughts are somewhat sporadic tonight as you can tell. I guess partly that's why I haven't written much lately. Not sure how to describe it all. The grief, the pain, the reality of it all, it just is. It's just there and that's all there is to it. Nothing much can be done to fix the problem. Yes, we are comforted by the promises of Scripture and we know God has a plan and we trust Him, but we still don't have Jamie for now. So I think I can say I accept that and I trust God with it all. But I just miss him. That's all. I miss him very much. I miss his laugh. I miss his mannerisms. I miss him calling and casually asking what's going on. I miss him trying to make me laugh or looking at me with that understanding eye and grinning. I miss riding in the front seat of the car together, feeling so identical and enjoying the moment. I miss walking into a store dressed alike with him beside me. I miss watching him eat and enjoying his food. I miss everything about him. If you've lost someone, you know what I am talking about. It's that kind of stuff that can't be fixed. Not for now. So I will continue to receive each new day from God with a thankful heart and try to savor it, but it will always be missing a piece of the puzzle. And a puzzle picture is never the same when a piece is missing. It is simply incomplete. How can a twin be complete without the other twin. I know I am an individual and all that. That's not what I am talking about. I am simply saying a twin, by it's very nature has to have his twin by him for others to understand what God blessed him with. Now others can only go by pictures, can only listen to stories because my twin is buried under the red Georgia clay in Calhoun, GA. He's no longer. He has returned to dust. No more beating heart, no more thoughts of love and care. It's all over. The curtain has fallen and the lights have gone out. It's over for now. But as we all say, joy cometh in the morning.

05/04/2006 - 518 days since the crash

What would I say or do if I could have told Jamie good bye. Last night I had a dream in which I dreamt that Jamie was very sick and pale and I guess sort of near death. He was not very responsive and he was pale and fragile looking. In the dream I was rubbing his face and leaning over him and crying as I told him how much I loved him. I can't help but wonder if such an experience was real, would I not find it frustrating. Yet at the same time I wish I could have had that moment before he did die. Yet for his sake, the way it happened I guess was best. I cried this morning. Felt sort of good in a way. I haven't cried in a while about this. Maybe the dream was so that I could cry it out a little. I miss him so much.

The other night Tina and I were driving home after dark and Tina picked up her cell phone to call her twin. I asked her who she was calling and she said Tonya. I am glad she has Tonya and am thankful they can still share in a beautiful relationship. It reminds me though of what once was for me. Sometimes I will call Tina or my folks, the ones I call most often, and if no one answers any of their cell phones or they are busy, I usually recall how I could have in the past called Jamie. I sure hope I see Jamie quickly after the resurrection. Not sure how easy it will be in such a crowd, but I hope it's quick. I know we will have eternity but I will be anxious. Maybe we will just meet at the feet of Jesus. That would be the best place.

05/29/2006 - 543 days since the crash

Today Jamie would have been 31 along with me. We would have called each other and said in a somewhat embarrassed tone, "happy birthday." We would of snickered and then asked what each other was doing. Yet because he would have been off today, maybe he would have come up and visited since we wouldn't have been able to go and see him. Jamie only had 29 birthdays instead. Never had to turn 30. He will always remain youthful in our memories. He never had to grow old. I visited his grave back on the 17th. It's hard to believe so much time has passed. Someone asked me last night if it bothered me getting older or something like that. I replied that it doesn't bother me like it once did. Now that death has entered my world with Jamie's passing, it no longer seems as strange and terrible. Don't get me wrong, I am not eager to die or anything. It's just that since I saw Jamie die, I feel like there is one less reason to hold on so tightly to life. I still want to live so that I can seek to make a difference in the world, so that I can love and be loved and explore more of God's creation. But I have witnessed death in a new way now. No longer is it something you only read about from the testimony of others or hear about, but I've in a sense felt it through the loss of my twin. That may sound strange and I don't intend it to. It's nothing supernatural or anything. I just realize more now that while it hurts like everything to lose one you loved so much, for them, it's just the close of a chapter and as time crawls for us, it's but a blink of an eye for him and the next thing he will know, he will be awakened at the second coming and receive life eternal. Death is much worse for the ones who are alive than for the ones who die. Of course the pain and fear that immediately precede death is horrid, but it's the suffering ones left to see the sad story that suffer the worst.