Where Was I?

It's been a couple months since I've added anything to my blog.  The holidays are finally over.  I find the holidays very difficult to get through and am always grateful when they finally end.  I honestly don't know why they're difficult because Todd really hated Christmas.  He disliked having to fulfill family obligations such as Christmas eve dinner with the family and having to "report" to Mom and Dad's house by 9 am on Christmas morning to open gifts.  I don't remember when things changed and he became so out of sorts.  As a young boy and an early teenager, he was always excited about Christmas.  Suddenly, the joy and happiness was gone. 

I'm an extremely generous person and I take great joy in giving to others.  I've always gone out of my way to make Christmas a special time and usually bought more presents that anyone could ever hope for or expect.  My husband has always accused me of trying to "buy" love and in Todd's case, as I reflect back, I believe he was probably right.  I was always looking for ways to bring back the happy, joyful Todd.  I have always loved Todd with every ounce of my being and was continually grasping for ways to reconnect with him. 

For years before I truly realized there was a problem, I always worried about Todd's drinking.  He was living away from home and almost never called home to say "hi" or check on his family.  He rarely returned our calls and when we did get in touch with him, he had one excuse after another as to why he hadn't called back.  He was involved in a serious relationship with a girl and when they would come over for dinner, it was apparent from the smell that he had been drinking before he got to our house.  Todd's girlfriend didn't like me so I figured some of Todd's behaviors were related to her reluctance to be around me. 

A year or two into the relationship, Todd's girlfriend broke up with him and asked him to move out of her house.  Todd found a small house to buy (unfortunately, just down the street from the ex-girlfriend) and we helped him out with the down payment.  Because we were always wondering how he was and where he was, both of us would periodically drive by the house just to "check" on him.  We made it a point, though, of not stopping in without being invited.  Todd was working regularly and seemed to be doing alright.  I do remember his Dad talking to him about the piles of beer cans outside his back door and how it must look to his neighbors. 

About this time, Todd's boss, Eric, moved into Todd's spare bedroom because he was going through a divorce and needed a place to stay temporarily.  While Eric was living there, we went to California for a conference and some sightseeing around Monterey and San Francisco.  We were in the airport in Minneapolis changing planes when we received an overhead page to go to a house phone.  Our nephew had tracked us down to let us know that Todd was in the hospital in Michigan and had no clue who anybody was or where he was.  He assured us he was stable, that his sister was with him and he had made arrangements with the hospital for us to get in to see him after visiting hours on our return to Detroit. 

We arrived at the hospital around 11 pm.  Todd appeared slightly worse for wear (abrasions everywhere) but was happily watching Monday night football as his sister slept in the chair next to his bed.  Apparently, Eric had come home to find Todd passed out on the floor and blood was everywhere.  Eric called Todd's sister, loaded Todd in the car and drove him to the hospital.  He was complaining of a severe headache and his blood pressure was around 200/120.  After a CT scan, spinal tap and a full battery of tests, his diagnosis was 'atypical migraine'. Thirty-six hours later, we arrived at ths hospital.  Todd's sister had not left his side because he had no recall of what happened or where he was and his short-term memory was completely gone. 

When we returned to the hospital the next morning, Todd had no memory that we had been there the night before.  He was being discharged and instructed to follow-up with his primary care physician.  Todd's memory loss continued for another 2 to 3 days. 

This episode was the start of many painful events.

Difficult Steps

September 30, 2011 was the fourth anniversary of Todd's death.  Time passes but there are times when it doesn't seem to get easier.  One of the things I accomplished since September 30th has been to return all the photos we used for the memory boards at Todd's memorial service to their respective photo albums.  It was a difficult task and rekindled many wonderful and sad memories. 

As a gift to us, our daughter created a beautiful album filled with special photos and letters from family members and friends telling their stories about Todd.  The very first entry in the album was particularly meaningful.

The Broken Chain

We knew that morning that God was going to call your name,

In life we loved you dearly, in death we do the same.

It broke our hearts to lose you, you did not go alone,

For part of us went with you, the day God called your home.

You left us peaceful memories, your love is still our guide,

And though we cannot see you, you are always at our side.

Our family chain is broken, and nothing seems the same,

But as God calls us one by one, the chain will link again.

-Author Unknown-

Todd was blessed to be part of a loving, sharing family.  His relationships with his sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and nephews was something many others can only dream of having.  He was deeply loved and he loved in return.  While replacing the photos into their albums, I was finally able to read through this special 'Todd' album.  Until now, I've not been able to do that.  Included in the album is a wonderful poem created by Todd's sister's friend, Rachel, who was able to write the poem from information provided to her by Todd's sister.  Because it has so much meaning, I'm including the poem in this blog posting.

The Last Teardrop:

Todd Kelemen’s Vision of a Lifetime

Todd Ronald Kelemen experienced something beautiful right before his body gave up its noble fight. It was something so beautiful, so extraordinary, that it brought a single tear to his eye. But this narrative is not about what amazing sight filled his vision, for that is only for God’s chosen ones to know. This is about that solitary, shining tear that fell from his eye. For enclosed in that tear was every extraordinary moment of happiness, love, and goodness that Todd Kelemen ever experienced. That single tear held every moment, every person, and every occurrence that had made his life worth living. And as that tear slowly rolled down his face, he was able to live, breathe, see, feel and hear his most cherished memories one last and glorious time…

Enclosed in that tear was his mother’s voice, the soft soothing sound that commonly spoke the words, “I love you”, and never, not even once, did she falter.

Enclosed in that tear were the eyes of his father; eyes that despite his serious expression, revealed honesty, loyalty, integrity and deep and enduring love for his family and each member. 

And in that tear was a little voice that would never forget to mention, “Untle Todd” when his parents said they were going to go over to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

And in that tear was a vision of himself as a little boy; a boy who loved looking at the tractors from the window of his Virginia home so much that it not only became his first word, but also his beloved nickname.

Enclosed in that tear was the sound of a self taught guitar lick so amazing that he took pause to wonder if Sting himself would even be impressed.

Enclosed in that tear was the woman with the most beautiful smile, his sister, whose wisdom, compassion, humor and confidence proved to be too high of a measuring stick for anyone he dated.

Enclosed in that tear was the sound of his own laughter that only his goofy brother-in-law could cause by just saying whatever popped into his head; a true ‘brother’ with grand dreams and a spirit to match.

Enclosed in that tear were the intense blue eyes of his oldest nephew as he absorbed his uncle’s vast knowledge of planets, stars, maps and geography.

And in that tear was also the face of his littlest nephew who always had the biggest, goofiest smile waiting just for him.

Enclosed in that tear were the sounds of his favorite musicians, like The Police, The Cure, Styx, The Smithereens, and later, John Mayer, Lyle Lovett, and Dave Matthews, whose lyrics and melodic chords moved his spirit and spoke to his soul.

Enclosed in that tear were two chocolate brown eyes that held trust, love, and loyalty to the man who had saved her from death, given her the extraordinary name ‘Roxanne’, and a life that most dogs only dream about.

Enclosed in that tear were the sounds of crashing lightning, booming thunder and hard driving rain; the kind of storm that could cleanse and purify anything that it fell upon.

And in that tear was the face of a childhood friend, who eventually grew into an adult ally; a loyal friend who stuck around when most others had gone; the kind of friend that few people are ever lucky enough to have.

Enclosed in that tear was the euphoric feeling of an incredible ‘jam session’ with a high school friend who later became a fellow band member, college roommate, confidant, supporter, and brother, in every sense of the word.

Enclosed in that tear was the sound of the ruckus that came from the ‘kids table’ where all the mischievous antics of the cousin team of six ensued.

Enclosed in that tear were miscellaneous words from the New York Times crossword puzzle like, ‘sloop’, ‘verso’, and ‘delos’ that had tested his knowledge (and his patience) until he could finally and triumphantly fill in those pesky little white boxes.

That tear held the scents of suntan lotion, chlorine, and the sound of laughter among the splashing water, as many of his best summer days were spent with his family at the Troy Swim Club.

Enclosed in that tear was the smell of cotton candy, popcorn and assorted carnival fare from the day he proudly treated his nephews to an afternoon of rides, games, and toys; the same day that his oldest nephew had never let go of his hand.

Enclosed in that tear were the hands of his family; hands that would pull him back when he would drift away, hands that held tightly even when he had let go; hands that he knew would always be there if he reached for them.

And in that tear was an overwhelming feeling of love; love that astounded him because it was always there; love that he may not have always expressed in return, but was so grateful to have.

When Todd Kelemen’s teardrop reached the bottom of his face, he was given a glimpse of what was yet to come. And it was this final vision that answered everything he had ever questioned about God, heaven, and death. He knew that at last, he would never suffer again. He knew that he was finally free from all that had weighed him down. And when the teardrop came to lay in its final resting place, Todd Ronald Kelemen knew that he was finally home.

Written by Rachel Macy Stafford

With contributing thoughts, details and love from Stephanie Kelemen Krause

In loving memory of her brother, Todd Ronald Kelemen

1968-2007

I do not believe Todd wanted to die.  I do not think Todd believed his behaviors were killing him.  However, I do believe he felt he had no control over his life and was powerless to rise above his addiction to alcohol.  He must have been in terrible emotional pain and alcohol made that pain more tolerable.  As I tell more of Todd's story in future blog postings, I know I will forget important milestones and memories but I sincerely hope the things I do remember and the stories I tell will have meaning to someone else who is struggling with addiction. 

The Beginning of Todd's Distance

When Todd came home from college at the end of his freshman year, he gradually relocated from his bedroom to the basement.  In the basement, he developed his own little den with his TV, stereo, guitars and amplifiers.  He was working long hours in construction and would generally have breakfast, lunch and dinner away from home.  He was up early every morning, never late for work and never missed a day of work.  In fact, he frequently worked seven days a week.  

In September when he went back to school, I was in the process of cleaning the basement when I tripped over a garbage bag that was lying on the floor.  The bag was about half full of empty pint liquor bottles.  I saved the bag for my husband to take a look at when he came home from work.  I was very alarmed but my husband discounted my concerns.  My husband had lived with a group of guys in college and they spent much of their weekend time drinking and partying.  He felt Todd was no different and the bag of "empties" was a minor issue considering he hadn't tried to hide the evidence (his words).  Besides, the bag constituted an entire summer's worth of drinking.  

Many of my memories of exact dates and events are a bit foggy.  Todd continued to attend college and would come home over summer vacations to work.  Because Todd was a legal adult, his grades would come to him rather than to his parents.  In respecting his privacy, we would inquire about school and about his grades but would accept his response of "everything's fine" and "I'm doing OK" without actually demanding to see his report card.  We were totally paying his way and by rights should have demanded evidence of his educational progress.  To this day, I can only say things might have been different had we taken a tough path with him.  Perhaps he felt we simply didn't care.  

During his final summer break from school, Todd met and fell in love with a girl who lived in a nearby community.  Again that summer, Todd was working long hours in construction but managed to find time for his "friend" in the evenings.  When Todd when back to school that fall, we actually saw more of him than we had in a long time because he was coming home almost every other week-end to spend time with his girlfriend.  At that time, it became painfully obvious to us that things were not right with Todd and his college career.  He had withdrawn from a couple of classes and had flimsy excuses for why things weren't going well for him.  He was living in an apartment off campus with his good friend, Cole, and playing in a band at local bars around the Mt. Pleasant area.  We figured he was having so much of a good time with his music that school was taking a complete backseat.  

In May of that same year, Todd's younger sister graduated from college after four years of hard work.  Todd was completing year number six and graduation appeared to still be off in the distance.  We then made the difficult decision to pull the plug on our funding for school.  As a result, Todd dropped out of college that May and never went back.  

Awhile after that, we learned from Todd's sister that he had been dropping and withdrawing from classes for quite some time.  Again, because he was a legal adult, the college would send refund money to him rather than to his parents.  Therefore, we had no knowledge of what he was doing.  Shame on us for being so blind!!

When Todd dropped out of school that May, he moved in with his girlfriend rather than moving back home.  At that time, Todd became very distant.  He didn't answer many of our phone calls and had excuse after excuse for missing family functions.  When he did agree to come over for Sunday family dinners, I could always tell he had been drinking when I would kiss him "hello".  He was warm and talkative, his behavior was normal, his speech was clear and his gate was steady so I found it easy to ignore the signs.  I was always so very happy to see him that I didn't question anything because I was afraid it would drive him further away.  For the most part, whenever he came over his girlfriend would be with him.  One Sunday, I was talking to his girlfriend and decided to put my nurse's hat on and talk to her about her smoking.  I was only trying to show my concern for her health but she didn't take it that way and informed me in no uncertain terms that she didn't intend to have that conversation with me.  From that day forward, we saw even less of Todd.  About this same time, one of my most proud moments was when Todd played a guitar solo at his cousin Jim's wedding.  I remember how nervous he was.  He was visibly shaking as he prepared for the solo.  Today, I ask myself, was it nerves or was it booze?  But, oh, what a wonderful job he did.  I only wish I had a recording!

Meanwhile, life was continuing on at a fast pace for the rest of the family.  My husband and I were busy and working long hours at our respective jobs.  Todd's sister was working in the area and had purchased a condo in a neighboring community.  Both sets of Todd's grandparents were becoming older and having health issues.   Over a period of the next six or seven years, we became heavily involved in their lives as their health continued to decline.  

Perhaps I'm making excuses for the fact that we let things slide with Todd.  We were wrapped up in our own worlds and considered him an adult and capable of taking care of himself.  

More to come....

Postnote:

For those who are following my blog, please feel free to pass this on to anyone who you think might be interested.  My hope is that my journey and Todd's life can be of some benefit to others, particularly someone who might be walking in our shoes (his and mine).  

More about young Todd

At an early age, Todd was a warm, happy, friendly, talkative child.  He was very curious and interested in everything in his world.  When he entered his high school years, he went through some changes that I believe were indicative of most young boys his age.  I remember referring to his junior and senior years as his grey and black stage.  Those were the only colors he would wear and he preferred to be isolated in his room most of the time rather than interacting with his family.  He was very much into "Dungeons and Dragons" and would play with a couple of his friends by the hour. 

Todd had several part-time jobs while in high school and, typical of part-time, after-school jobs, none were terrific.  He worked in a couple of restaurants.  The first experience could have resulted in terrible burns because he was responsible for emptying the deep-fryer.  With the second job, he had to wash dishes resulting in terrible eczema of his hands causing deformities of his nails that we were worried would not heal.  The worst job of all was at a rendering plant (slaughter house).  He was responsible for washing down the overhead conveyor belts after the dead animals were processed.  Actually, it's difficult to call it a job because he only lasted one night.  I remember clearly that when he came home that night he had found all new meaning in the wisdom for staying in school and going to college. 

Todd played guitar in a band in high school.  His good friend, Cole, played drums in the same band.  They had a few "gigs" and seemed to have a really good time.  One particular event ended in a big disappointment for Todd.  He had saved for months and months to buy a new guitar.  While he was waiting to go on stage, someone tripped over his guitar stand knocking his guitar over and breaking the neck completely off.  My heart broke for Todd.  Rather than letting him learn to deal with the tough side of life, I took him shopping the next day to replace the guitar. 

Todd had several driving accidents while in high school.  I was beginning to think he was accident-prone.  However, I discovered a research article in a public health journal starting that left-handed people have more traffic accidents than right-handed people.  Well, that made my day as Todd was left-handed.  His Dad, however, raised the question to me as to whether Todd might have been drinking when the accidents occurred.  To my knowledge, he never had a conversation with Todd about his concerns. 

At no time during middle school and high school were we concerned about inappropriate behaviors with Todd.  His grades were good and he was a great kid to have around the house.   I was always a bit worried that his self-image might be suffering because he was quite small.  In fact, at one point his pediatrician made an appointment for him with a specialist to be evaluated for growth hormone.  We never took it any further than an evaluation visit because we didn't feel comfortable about subjecting him to the treatment process.  He was projected to reach a maximum height of 5 ft. 6 inches.   It's amazing how accurate the specialist was because Todd was 5 ft 6 inches when he died.

Postnote:
For those who are following my blog, please feel free to pass this on to anyone who you think might be interested.  My hope is that my journey and Todd's life can be of some benefit to others, particularly someone who might be walking in our shoes (his and mine).

From the Beginning

Todd was born on November 21, 1968 in Falls Church, Virginia.  He was a beautiful little guy with tons of dark, dark brown hair.  He was a happy baby and a delight to his parents and grandparents.  Todd's dad traveled extensively and was out of the country for 8-10 weeks at a time.  Todd was my constant companion.  Often, I held him for his entire nap.  He loved to be held and snuggled with his face tucked in my neck. 

We moved from the Washington, D.C. area to Grand Rapids, Michigan when Todd was 2 1/2.  By then he had a baby sister, Stephanie.  Almost from the beginning, Todd and his sister were best friends.  Of course they fought like every other brother and sister but he was very protective of her.  When Todd was in 2nd grade, we moved to Troy, Michigan (a suburb of Detroit). 

Todd had a very normal childhood.  He started kindergarten when he was 6.  Being a late November baby, we were advised that waiting the extra year before starting school would help with his social development.  He participated in cub scouts, played tee ball, soccer and tennis and excelled at swimming.  When he graduated from high school, he went away to college at Central Michigan University. 

We always said Todd was like a cat with nine lives.  He had several mishaps that could have been very, very serious.  As an infant, he slipped out of his high chair and landed on the kitchen floor.  Our house was built on a concrete slab so landing on the floor was a major concern.  He was checked out by his pediatrician and given a clean bill of health.  When he was a little over 1 yr of age, he was crawling behind me when a 2L bottle of coke (then in glass bottles) fell over and hit the metal closet track.  The bottle exploded and imbedded itself in the wall behind me.  How it missed Todd was a miracle! 

At 3 years of age, Todd flipped his Big Wheel over and landed on the back of his head on the driveway.  He suffered a mild concussion.  Then, when Todd was 5, we were visiting friends who had an inground swimming pool.  The adults were all standing around having cocktails when our friend's son, John, asked if Todd was supposed to be sitting on the bottom of the pool. Sunglasses, shoes, billfolds, etc. went flying as Todd's dad and our friends jumped in the pool to pull Todd out.  The very next morning, I signed him up for swimming lessons through the Y. 

As a young teen, Todd and his dad went on a fishing trip to Sugar Island in northern Michigan with a bunch of other fathers and sons.  Todd and our friend's son, John (again), flipped the small boat they were using and the boys ended up hanging onto the hull in the middle of the St. Mary's River which is fed by Lake Superior.  Talk about cold!!  The boys were rescued by a passing fisherman. 

Todd's major and minor at Central Michigan University was cartography and geography.  After 5 years, he still had not graduated and we finally pulled the plug on the money.  During summer breaks from school, he had worked with a friend, Eric, in construction so when he left Central, he continued working with Eric.

Probably during Todd's time at Central, his life started to disintegrate.  Looking back, I think I knew something was seriously wrong but not being much of a drinker myself I overlooked the signs and figured he was doing what many, many other kids his age were doing.  I was blind and perhaps afraid to face the facts.  As a freshman at Central, Todd was already 18 and our chance of controlling his behavior had passed us by.

More to come....

For those who are following my blog, please feel free to pass this on to anyone who you think might be interested.  My hope is that my journey and Todd's life can be of some benefit to others, particularly someone who might be walking in our shoes (his and mine).