Our only child died three years ago today. Adam had just turned 25. He was scheduled to receive a bone marrow transplant for a genetic immune disorder, but unexpectedly developed an autoimmune disease which caused his body to destroy its own platelets. I took him to the hospital on a Thursday evening expecting to be given an antibiotic and sent home; he was gone four days later.
After Adam's death I found his "last will and testament" written when he was fourteen. It was in a box filled with his old report cards, art projects, birthday cards; all things I had envisioned one day sharing with his children. The will began "Mom and dad, I know I will probably die way after you, but just in case". Adam "bequeathed" his wall posters to two of his cousins, his books were divided among a few friends, his beloved computer games were given to his best buddy Will, and to his father and I he proclaimed his love and thanked us for being "such a good mom & dad". At the end, he stated he wanted to be cremated and to have a viking funeral to be held on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
Adam was cremated and had a Christian memorial service, but I couldn't get the childhood wish for a viking funeral out of my mind. The more I thought about it, the more drawn toward the idea I became; I felt it gave my husband and I one last, tangible opportunity to try and be good parents to our boy.
Adam's friends rallied and enthusiastically set about building a six foot wooden vessel. The first version promptly sank when tested in a neighbor's swimming pool, but after the addition of copious amounts of roofing tar, she set proudly on the surface of the water. Flags were made, one a viking symbol and the other depicting Adam's bear claw tattoo. On the back of the vessel was written "The Wall", Adam's nickname from his soccer days, and attached proudly near the bow was a naked Barbie doll named "Slutvanna".
(Adam would have howled; he gave his buddy Will a Barbie doll on his sixteenth birthday because Will had yet to find a girlfriend...) The boat was a thing of beauty only to those involved.
A date was selected for the ceremony, and two months after Adam's death 23 family and friends joined us down on the Outer Banks. In addition to Adam's ashes, in the boat we laid the unfinished book he had been reading when he died, letters from his old girlfriends, a few photos of family and friends... a letter I wrote to my boy to "send him on his way". Kindling and a dose of kerosene was the final addition.
One of Adam's uncles, an avid surfer brought his wet suit and was charged with pulling the vessel out in the sea to be set on fire. Although we had acquired a bow and arrows and had practiced in hopes of shooting a fiery arrow out to the vessel, the last minute decision was for Dean to take matches in a sealed container so that he could simply light the fire before setting the boat adrift. The boat was taken to the shoreline and Dean began the not so easy task of taking it out past the breaking waves.
As go the well laid plans of mice and men, our efforts too, began to slowly go awry. As Dean made it out past a few sets of waves, the boat began to sink although no water had washed over the sides. Who knew that kerosene would eat away roofing tar? It seems so obvious now, but it was simply one of those things not considered at the time. We all watched helplessly as the small boat and all its precious cargo floundered in the gentle waves before simply slipping away.
It would have been easy to be distraught at the outcome of all our efforts, but this wasn't the case. Our initial disappointment was replaced quickly with the acknowledgment that just like
Adam's life, his viking funeral did not go as we planned. It was a valiant effort meant to honor the childhood wishes of a young boy who grew into an incredible young man, and we came so very close.
Adam was a
good soul. He loved his family, enjoyed his job and did it well. He loved poker and playing volleyball with a vengeance. He was a voracious reader, loved barbecue ribs, potatoes in any form, ketchup on everything and angel food cake and strawberries. He had a fantastic sense of humor and a keen sense of compassion to those in need but zero tolerance for mean people. He detested stupid drivers. He gave the world's
best hugs. We miss him beyond words...
I know this story needed to be told more than it needs to be read. Thanks for the chance to remember my boy and share a bit of his story with you.
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A Viking Funeral... Almost (a bit long)
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