GRIEVER'S DIGEST: Linda Paventi (Vol. 2)
The last person I ever thought would volunteer for this assignment was one of the first to raise their hands.
CORRECTION: The email version of today’s edition identifies Linda by her previous name because I’m a very careless editor of my own work.
Ed. Note: The community of people experiencing grief is vast and wide. Many of you have reached out to say that you relate to the topics discussed here and I want to tap into your stories to broaden this community of grievers.
Maybe you’re grieving a sibling or a pet. Maybe you’re grieving Rutherford B. Hayes. Your feelings are valid.
If you’re interested in participating in a Griever’s Digest Q&A or submiting your own original work, email me at jaredpaventi at gmail.com. This is a community space and the more people share, the more everyone will relate.
I promise, it’s a good thing.
Griever’s Digest: Linda Paventi
Years ago, I was having a conversation with a co-worker about everything and nothing, as would often happen in our office. She mentioned to me that she had a funeral to attend for a cousin who broke his neck on a trampoline and died. It struck me as such a specific and uncommon injury...the type of thing you remember you recall later when someone mentions it.
Ten years later, my father married the mother of my co-worker’s cousin. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not a small world.
My stepmother, Linda Paventi, lost her son when she was 49. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children and you can tell that his passing had a profound effect on her since. Following the publication of our first Griever’s Digest with my longtime friend Brian Moritz, I got a text from her: She was ready to tell her story.
Who is the subject of your grief, and when and how did they die?
My son, Ed Beerman Jr., passed away on August 21, 2000. He was 30. He was a high school teacher, a coach, an INS inspector and a volunteer fireman. He and his wife were at a Jack-n-Jill baby shower thrown for them and he was being teased about not getting on the trampoline. He gave into peer pressure, which was not like him. He fell awkwardly on the trampoline and broke his neck at the C-2 and C-3 vertebrae. He would end up a paraplegic.
How old were you when they died and what stage of life were you at?
It was two months before my 50th birthday and we were empty nesters awaiting the arrival of our first grandchild.
What is your favorite memory of them?
I have several memories of him. He always would pester his sister, who was vulnerable at that age, with pranks that had her trying to figure out what happened. The hardest memory is still fresh in my mind and heart. A few days before his accident, I took him home to Clayton, N.Y. while he was getting his car serviced. I told him that he looked tired from working at the Thousand Islands Bridge. He hugged me and said, “I'll get a lot of rest pretty soon,” never knowing his accident would happen, of course.
What is your most immediate and stark memory from when you learned of their death?
We were at the races and were called to the broadcast tower to take an important phone call. Our daughter-in-law informed us of his accident and it wasn’t good news. We all met at the local hospital and he was transported to a Syracuse hospital.
I was mad at God for allowing this to happen. He was taken to the operating room to stabilize his neck, but had a stroke while on the operating table and was placed on life support. I obviously cried and prayed hard to God that he would survive and see his daughter born. I was nauseous to the point of gagging at any given moment but did not vomit. The gag came from deep within me knowing I was losing him.
A vivid picture that I will NEVER forget was when he was in the emergency room in Syracuse, he looked at me with tears running down his face. His eyes said, “Help me Mom.” I wished I could have but it was entirely out of my hands. I think internally I knew the outcome and my heart ached.
What was the most difficult part about their funeral?
I had extreme anxiety just to look at his coffin, listen to his boss sing, and to deal with a daughter-in-law who became very distant to us. Understandable, I suppose, but we couldn’t support each other through this. I hugged my daughter, who of course had tears too. His father and I did not go to the cemetery. We wanted to leave him where the sun was shining and it was warm.
Conversely, what was something that stood out from it that made the greatest impact on you?
A class that he taught and started (Through Student Eyes) made a video of his life and presented it to all of us at an assembly and memorial service organized by the school for the students and staff.
What do you remember about your grief and mourning at that time? How did you manage and handle it?
Grief at that point was a blur. There were constant people with food, support and caring. His students came to his calling hours and put their soccer pins in his coffin. His college friends came too. Two couples that we were very close to were with us from the first day he was in Syracuse until the last. My co-workers, as well as his father’s co-workers, also gave support. It was difficult because he taught in the same building where we both worked.
Everyone grieves differently and on their own timeline. Nothing is wrong in what manner you grieve because it is unhealthy — physically, mentally and emotionally — to block it from its existence.
Along the same lines, what do you know now about your grief journey that you didn't know then? Is there a message you wish you could pass to your younger self?
Grieving the loss of a child is the hardest thing any parent can go through. It isn't what is supposed to happen in chronological order. You need to enjoy each day because it just might be your last. I wrote a paper on my experience with grief for a college course I took. I don't really think that it gave me much closure because it was still too fresh in my mind.
What's the dumbest thing someone said to you? (I always thought "They're in a better place now" was a sort of back-handed comforting statement.)
“He would have been a paraplegic and an angry man that no one would realize.”
Were there books or music or movies from that time that you embraced for comfort during that time? What about today?
Music at that time gave me comfort and tears together. Angels Among Us by Alabama was played at the memorial service at school, and Everything I Do I Do It For You by Bryan Adams was the song they danced to at their wedding.
I have been told to never watch the movie The Notebook.
Smell is supposedly one of our strongest memory triggers. Have you ever encountered a smell that immediately made you think of them?
Cinnamon is my smell of his presence. He loved and always carried cinnamon Altoids.
Humans are pretty ritualistic, whether it's spiritual, religious or out of general habit. Have you developed any tradition or routine in grieving them?
Not really a tradition so much but something new that makes me think of him. A close friend, who was not with us that night in Syracuse, told us later that there was a big beautiful rainbow from Clayton to Syracuse that evening. She just happened to look at her watch and it was 7 p.m. There was a small white cloud among the rainbow that she related to him passing into the next realm. My son flatlined at 7 p.m. Life support had been removed earlier.
There is a school of thought that our grief never leaves us and that our life grows around it. Do you think that is true or do you believe you have found or will find closure in their passing?
Everyone grieves differently and on their own timeline. Nothing is wrong in what manner you grieve because it is unhealthy — physically, mentally and emotionally — to block it from its existence. It never truly leaves you and eventually life goes on.
What's something you wish you could say or share with them if you had the chance? If you had one more day, in the present or back then, what would you do?
I would love to share and show him all of his daughter’s challenges, accomplishments and beauty. She became a strong woman and people would tell her about what type of person he was. Let her see him alive and he could actually see her.
What else would you like to share? The floor is yours here.
His family honored him by hosting annual memorial soccer tournaments following his passing. The final one was his daughter’s senior year of high school. The money raised funded community service scholarships, honoring his own life of devoted volunteerism.
Ed. Note: Linda’s answers were lightly edited for clarity.
Final thoughts on finality…
“When a parent dies, they are buried in the ground. When a child dies, they are buried in the parent’s heart.”
— Korean proverb
Dirt Nap is the Substack newsletter about death, grief and dying that is written and edited by Jared Paventi. It’s published every Friday morning.
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