In addition to Chad's birthday letter, I want to share a couple of things in honor of his birthday. Several months ago, I received a poem from Justin Kim, one of Chad's friends from Rectory, that he had written about Chad. And just a few weeks ago, I received an essay that another one of Chad's friends from Rectory, Miko McGuire had written about Chad as part of a college entrance requirement.
I've said many times, and probably previously on this blog, that one of the very best gifts that a mother who has lost a child can receive is simply the knowledge that others remember. These two pieces are certainly precious gifts to me, and with Justin and Miko's permission, I'd like to share them with you.
God bless, and have a wonderful evening!
Julie
Miko's Essay:
“It’s for a friend.” This is the explanation I give to someone who asks why I
have “CJT” written on all of my wrestling shoes. Every time I lace up
my shoes and step on to the mat, whether I’m about to have a six-minute
battle with an All-American or get a quick pin and sit back on the bench, I
think about my friend Chad.
Chadwick Jauch Tipton was my middle school wrestling
partner. We struggled together through our brutal practices and the long winter
season. In eighth grade, after pushing each other past the point of exhaustion
day after day, our team capped of its undefeated season by winning the Junior
New England Wrestling Championships. I am sure Chad would remember this as one
of the happiest days of his life.
Chad hung himself the spring of my
sophomore year. By this time, I was boarding at Tabor Academy and he was in
public school back home in Missouri. At first, Chad’s suicide didn’t sink in. No matter how much
I talked to my friends about it, I could not manage to convince myself that he
had actually committed suicide. I could not imagine that a cheerful kid I knew
so well had become depressed to the point that he no longer wanted to live. It
wasn’t until Chad’s memorial service at our old school that my disbelief was
replaced with grief and devastation.
At the
service, we listened to teachers and alumni reminisce about Chad. I have always
been a person who bottles up his emotions and I cannot even remember the last
time I cried out loud. However, sitting next to our old wrestling coach at Chad’s service, the events of the past week finally hit me and I
could not take it. I broke down in front hundreds of my peers. I sobbed as my
head swirled with memories of Chad and I in the wrestling room, using each
other as the motivation needed to never give up. Wrestling had been a bonding
experience for us, and the closeness we had developed made losing him even
harder.
Trying to go back to leading a normal high school career
just days after losing someone close to me was painful, but as time went on I
learned to use my emotions as motivation in the same way Chad motivated me in
middle school. When I find myself exhausted and ready to throw in the towel, I
look down at my wrestling shoes and read the letters “CJT”. These initials represent so
much more to me than a name. When I see “CJT”, I am able to ignore my body’s cries for rest and work harder than anyone else in the
room. I can accept now that Chad is dead, but his spirit lives on and stays
with me everyday of my life, making sure that I remember my goals and always
leave it all on the mat.
Justin
Kim
Mrs.
Debra Larson
English
401W.E/ The self-portrait poem
18
February 2012
You Bring Out The
Chad in Me
You
bring out the Chad in me.
The
Missouri boy with a southern accent in me.
The
hurtful racist jokes in me.
But
the endless compliments in me.
The
abundant hugs in me.
You
bring out the coach in me.
The
soccer and lacrosse teams in me.
The
treating like a brother in me.
The
practicing in the rain and snow in me.
The
great athlete with sportsmanship in me.
You
bring out the parent in me.
The
scolding and consulting in me.
The
Dave & Busters in me.
The
special hand shake in me.
The
brother from another mother in me.
You
bring out the knowledge of death in me.
The
months of depression and sorrow in me.
The
unforgettable memories of us in me.
The
revelation of the real life in me.
You
bring out the Chad in me.
This poem is
dedicated to my great friend, Chad Tipton.
