A Handsome, Intellegent Artist

Dressing up like Dad to go to work was a fave. He adored his nephew Mason and neice Kalyn.

On September 15th, 1998, we received a frantic phone call from our daughter-in-law, Manyan, telling us that Scott was blue and wasn't breathing. By the time we rushed to their apartment in Seattle, Manyan was in tears, telling us the paramedics had already taken him away. We were completely devastated; all we could do was hold each other and weep. They had only been married for seven months—a heartbreaking tragedy. To this day, Manyan has remained single and remains a deeply cherished part of our family.

Jennie Godlewski, a lifelong friend visiting us from Chicago, was there with us. Right after that phone call, she walked past the dining room window and noticed something unusual: a striking ray of sunshine piercing through the trees and a thick veil of fog. We almost never get fog like that. I felt compelled to take a photo of it, which later became a visual memory of that day.

It’s every parent’s worst nightmare. It took Georgia a year to write a letter to Scott, but for me, it has been nearly 28 years, and I still haven't been able to write mine. That’s 28 years of carrying the regret of not being a better father—of always traveling for business. Whenever Scott came to me with a problem, my instinct was always to rush in with solutions and answers. I was wrong. All he really wanted, and needed, was for his father to just listen. Sad!

Dear Scott,

It’s hard to believe 14 months have passed since I got that phone call from your wife. She was crying and said you were cold and blue and not breathing! I screamed for her to hang up and call 911. Dad waited by the phone, and I got into the shower in a daze.

As I stood there with the water running over my head, a strange calm came over me. You were no longer suffering with your daily demons. You finally were at peace! I am happy for you because I know you are in a better place. God has called you home so you can now be happy there. I so wanted that for you here on earth!

Now comes the hard part. How do I go on with this hole in my heart? How do I go on without my only son? Our children are not supposed to leave before us. It’s just not the right order of things. I know I have to remember the good times…. and there were many! Your handsome smiling face that could light up a room, your wonderful sense of humor, your love of parties, candles, roses, classical music, dancing, family day, the sun, and Christmas lights. Your practical jokes. Your bravery at witnessing the birth of your niece. Your ability to be a much-loved Uncle Scott. Your artistic talent that was envied. Your “gift of gab” that started way before the age of two. Your unique way of doing things…..all things. Never by the book, always left or right of the norm. It was Scott’s way. I loved your sensitivity. Your ability to articulate and express yourself never ceased to amaze menew if it were possible to communicate after you crossed over, you would certainly find a way. I want to thank you for the enormous amount of energy I know it must take for you to come through for us. I know you are doing it out of love to make us all aware that you never really die….your spirit lives on forever. What a gift you have given to us. My gift to you is to try as hard as I can not to grieve for you. I know that will make you sad. I love you so much I want you to be at peace. I promise to see the joy and beauty in life again. I know we will be together in another lifetime. Until then, I have my brightest star to look at and talk to. I’ll love you always, Mom.  

One of Scott's favorite songs. We played it the day we held Scott's Celebration of Life.