Wednesday, March 22, 2017
My son died on January 23, 2017. We had him cremated (his choice) and the memorial was on February 4th, just two days before his 22nd birthday. We set up the service to accomodate about 40 people, but around 125 showed up... they pulled in extra chairs and were standing around the walls at the back--there was standing room only! Teachers and students from his high school attended and spoke, and his students/teachers/head of the Philosophy department at NMSU also attended/spoke/came up to give their condolences to us afterward as well. Jeremiah was an amazing young man... one college student told me that he looked up to Jeremiah, and that "he was the best student in the class" and he wanted to be just like him. Several young people said that Jeremy had touched their lives and helped them, or helped them become a better person, and two people said he "saved my life". My son's years in this world were short, but he made a positive impact. I wish I could have had the joy of having him here longer than we did, but I am grateful for the amazing time we did have together on this planet, in this physical reality. I look forward to seeing him in the next realms and worlds...
Here is what I read at the memorial...
I am Sharon Buydens, Jeremiah’s mom. When he was born we called him Jeremy, because Jeremiah seemed like such a grown up name for such a little baby. He was adorable with his light blonde hair and huge angelic blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled. Right away I knew he was special. Even as a baby, before he could talk, he would blurt out single words that he couldn’t possibly know, as if the Spirit of God were speaking through him. He always did well in school growing up. His childhood was pretty normal, at least Id’ like to think so. He was a good boy and easy to raise.
Jeremy had best friends and enjoyed skateboarding and watching super hero movies. Even at age eight his favorite hero was Spiderman, and he would dress up that way for Halloween, or other times. He had his big brother Tyler who was 8 years older, and his little sister Kira who is 2 ½ years younger. I can’t say that Jeremy’s death was expected, because it shocked us all when it happened. I am wanting to explain something that happened to me in alignment to my son, just a few months prior to his death, to show how Jeremiah and I had a mother-son connection, and what we can take away from this tragedy that has occurred.
On September 28th I woke up in the middle of the night from an attack in my body. It felt like the blood was pooling in my head, and I ached all over, and my face and head were completely numb, as well as my limbs. I thought I was dying, and I almost called 911. I went to the clinic that morning and they did a battery of tests but did not find anything. A week later another nighttime episode occurred, then a few days later. By the end of October I flew from Canada where I live down to El Paso and attended Jeremiah and Lauren’s wedding. It was lovely and absolutely perfect. I did not know it would be the last time I would ever see my son. I left and the nighttime episodes continued getting closer together, happening every other night, then every night, then several times a night. Each time I would wake up feeling like I had no blood in my head, my face was numb, and I would sit up and start breathing fast, trying to make my body stay alive. It was very scary and I was sure I was going to die in the night.
I started hearing knocks on the door at night and strange sounds in the other room—things that made no sense, since no one was in there. One night I woke up with one of these episodes and saw a tall lean figure about Jeremiah’s size standing by the foot of my bed looking at me, yet I could see no face. I suddenly wondered whether these episodes were something spiritual… but I wasn’t sleeping well, and had stopped dreaming altogether. I couldn’t focus on spiritual things, but even so, a sense of immanence was building, yet all I could see was anxiety about sleeping and what would happen in the night.
I was convinced that I was going to die in my sleep. But in reality, it was my son who died in my sleep.
Is it any coincidence that this intuitive manifestation of anxiety was akin to my son’s own anxiety in the night? I felt like that first night attack that blood pooled in my head, but that’s what happened to him. After that I felt like blood was not circulating in my body or my head, which is what happened to him after he died. It was at night, always at night… just like he died in the night. Yet I had no idea it was about Jeremiah until after he was gone. I put it all together because three days before he died these episodes stopped completely. Three days beforehand he started taking a new anti-anxiety medication, and three days before he died was the last time I texted him or talked to him. When the episodes were done that weekend, so was he. We knew he was stressed from work and school, but we had no idea that this would happen, or that he felt this way for what was evidently a long time. This event was officially marked as suicide by the medical examiner. Jeremiah left a note for his wife Lauren, and mentioned his family and that he wanted to be cremated, and what he wanted us to have of his possessions. It has been really difficult to come to terms with his choice to leave us at the young age of 21. This coming Monday would have been his 22nd birthday. Since his death I have heard him speaking to me, you know, in my own head, and heard him say, “I’m okay mom. I’m okay mom.”
Although his death has been challenging to believe, we all need to realize he’s okay now. We need to realize that if you have anxiety or depression, that stress is not something you have, it is something you do. Stress is a habit, a behaviour, a pathology in thinking, and death is a permanent solution for a temporary problem. I have viewed my own anxieties in a completely new light because of Jeremiah’s passing. From this point forward I think it is important that we all accept what has happened, and that we realize just how amazing he really was, and is. His spirit is still alive, and he has no more stress or worries or pain. Jeremiah is in the light because he was a light himself, with that sparkle in his eye, and his friendliness, compassion, and the great love he had for everyone he knew, which has been returned to him 100-fold by the people who are in this room, and beyond.
Everyone loved Jeremiah! Even to the end he was sweet and kind and considerate. He had these wonderful traits, you see. He helped people. He cared. We all saw it, and so it is important that we acknowledge this about him, to each other.
Jeremiah was such a good man, and as a boy he was a good boy… so easy to raise. If my kids were misbehaving when they were little I would count to three to make them listen… “or else”. My mom would sometimes watch my kids, and she would threaten to get the flyswatter to them if they acted like they didn’t want to obey, but she never really had to use it. They listened to their grannie and grandpa. As a kid, around age 9, I remember one time he ran into our house out in the desert exclaiming how he had found some bigfoot footprints near our house on some open land. He knew I had been doing some bigfoot research so we went out to investigate the footprints. I got there and looked at them, and their misshapen form, and said, “There’s no trackway, it’s as if bigfoot just walked into an invisible wall and disappeared! Where did he go?” Of course, I knew right then that Jeremy had made the footprints and so I called him on it. And of course, his answer was, “I know you wanted to see a bigfoot mom, and I just wanted to make you happy.” Of course he did. I just laughed and could not be mad at him at all. He was so cute, just wanting to make me happy. He always wanted to make people happy because he had such a wonderful caring heart.
I feel blessed to have known Jeremiah for his short life. It seems he was just getting started in life. He was such an incredible joy to us all, and I will miss him so much. I always, ALWAYS looked forward to seeing Jeremy every time he or I would visit. I sometimes wished that I didn’t live so far away because I only got to see him a couple of times a year, if that. I always looked forward to his warm hugs. I have so many wonderful memories of him coming to Washington state and to Canada to visit. He and Lauren both. We have memories of camping and hiking near Cloudcroft last summer, and going on the ferry to Vancouver Island in British Columbia a few years ago, and hanging out at the lake where I used to live where we hot tubbed and went to the dances and hiked to the waterfall. A few months ago I got to see him get married and we cooked a delicious meal together for the family. It was absolutely wonderful and I will cherish these memories of him always.
We were looking through pictures of Jeremiah this week and realized that many of the pictures we have of him show him joking around and sticking his tongue out at the camera. Perhaps like the bigfoot footprints, he always found a way to disguise good intentions with some funny jokester pranks. I guess he’s moved on to the Kingdom of a higher realm, and I hope in some way that he is NOT behaving himself, and is bringing laughter to someone in his own special way.
As a side note from my oldest son Tyler, Jeremiah’s big brother (who could not be here today), Tyler said… [LOOK UP AND POINT UP] About grannie, Jeremiah… "One day she's going to be there and she's going to have the flyswatter when she sees you!”
Gotta love ‘brotherly love’. I love my kids… and I will always love and miss you my sweet Jeremy. I love you more than you could ever know.
O my God! O Thou forgiver of sins, bestower of gifts, dispeller of afflictions!
Verily, I beseech thee to forgive the sins of such as have abandoned the physical garment and have ascended to the spiritual world.
O my Lord! Purify them from trespasses, dispel their sorrows, and change their darkness into light. Cause them to enter the garden of happiness, cleanse them with the most pure water, and grant them to behold Thy splendors on the loftiest mount.