To Write Love on Her Arms

Flowers to the Sea.

Jun. 20, 2010 at 5:45pm

A town is a place but it is more that thing where stories tie together. Moments hilarious and terrible and amazing inspire nicknames and people gather around food and laughter. People come together to live and tell their stories and it all adds up to form something bigger, the story of a town. Virginia Beach is a surfing town and i have been there now.

Zeke died five years ago, his death a suicide, a choice and moment just like millions more, except the kind that’s all too final, the kind that leaves no room for others. First Street, this ocean, this place, is where his ashes were scattered. Men who love the land, you give them to the land, but surfers do it different. Surfers paddle out, hold hands and make a circle, ashes to the water along with flowers. And then we scream and splash and say goodbye. Perhaps we scream because it’s impossible. Zeke’s friends did this on a freezing cold January day in 2006, two hundred people in the water and as many or more standing on the sand, a scene that made the News.

i wasn’t there that day but i was there yesterday, for the 5^th Annual “Zeke’s Lil Rat Surfcus,” a unique surfing competition meant to make kids smile. Creativity is often born from suffering and this is also that, Zeke’s friends and family doing their best to create something special in his honor, beauty born from pain.

We woke up early to set up tents and prepare for the day. The kids arrived and the contest began at 8. I watched as Zeke’s mom, quiet and humble, worked to make sure everything was perfect for the kids. Every boy and every girl got an official contest t-shirt, black and white so that they could add the colors. She set up a table with fabric markers so that they could make their art. Zeke was always drawing and painting so this made perfect sense. She brought bubbles and water guns so that the kids could be kids, so that they could play and smile. This is crucial because we get older and we forget how to play. Pain and worry come to steal our smiles. Mothers, the good ones, they fight to let us keep them. Zeke is gone but his mother is still a mother.

Midway through the morning, she walked away without announcement, away from the buzz and noise and laughter of the contest. She walked alone, away from the tents, across the sand toward the rocks that form the jetty. She walked with flowers and Nicole told me they were sunflowers, because you give sunflowers to the people that you truly love. The kids near us cheered and screamed for reasons unrelated, the surfers surfed and the announcers added noise. She moved slowly across the rocks and at the end, she stopped and threw the flowers to the sea.

“She does this every year, today and on his birthday and on the day he died,” Nicole told me as we watched.

She paused for just a moment and I watched her walk back and I watched her wipe her eyes.

Two hours later, I sat down in the empty chair beside her.

“Today must be bittersweet for you,” I said, after small talk and some silence.

“Every day is bittersweet,” she replied.

We sat for some time, often without words, under a burning summer sun. I didn’t offer answers because I had no answers to offer. When we did talk, we talked about family and pain and change. We talked about her wonderful brilliant grandson and we talked about my sisters.

Zeke was my friend when we both worked at Hurley, and his Nicole has become my friend over the last year. I came to Virginia to support her and to meet the other characters, the friends with nicknames, his family, his town. I didn’t know it when I bought my ticket but I came to watch a mother remember her son, to say in her own way, that she remembers, that he was significant, that she is still his mother.

Every single kid who surfed in the contest left with information about TWLOHA and a TWLOHA t-shirt. There was no epic speech but it moved me to know that every single kid left that beach with a bag marked “Hope is real. Help is real. Your story is important.”

The hope in all of that, the reason TWLOHA exists, is to keep the flowers from the sea. Death will come for all of us but let us fight to live. Let us bury our mothers and them not us. And if it should happen the other way or if it already has, i hope you get to know the privilege of seeing them remember. i hope you get to sit with them in silence, the silence simply honest and neither of you alone because the other is there.

In Loving Memory: Zeke Sanders

Peace to you today.

jamie

Posted in General by jamie tworkowski

Comments (18)

Your words are so powerful. Keep doing what you are doing and the world will be a better place.

1 | Left by Ryan | Jun. 20, 2010 at 6:08pm

Thank you for this blog entry Jamie! I wish a TWLOHA event would come closer to where I live, and not just a tent at a music event. I would love to hear you speak someday and just give a talk. TWLOHA means so much to me, and I have met some wonderful people through it ( not in person yet, I'm hoping to fix that this summer).

Thank you again,
Alexandra aka Punkeymonkey529

2 | Left by Alexandra | Jun. 20, 2010 at 6:13pm

Jamie. There are no words to describe how heartbreaking yet amazing this story is. For a mother to be that strong.... Not many would be able to show that strength. It is amazing. About a year and a half ago I found out about TWLOHA and it literally saved my life. Sometimes I find myself upset and lonely, and I think hope is real, help is real, and my story is important. Life is a huge struggle, but I try. We all try, and we fight. What else can we do?
Thank you Jamie. Hopefully one day I will be able to hear you in person.
TWLOHA is amazing, and thank you for saving lives.
-Korynne

3 | Left by korynne | Jun. 20, 2010 at 7:13pm

This story made me choke toward the end as I was trying to hold back tears. 3 months ago today I would have been dead.
6 feet under or scattered to the wind having over dosed on my anti depressants. But I was saved by the one person I truly love. After three bottles of liquified charcoal and a week in a psychiatric hospital, I no longer look at TWLOHA as some failed attempt at people who care but rather people who are so alike and bound together.
By broken, and bond.
At the beginning we are rarely ever pieces together. But life is the scotch tape to hold the pieces we find along the way together.

4 | Left by Mackenzie | Jun. 20, 2010 at 11:16pm

this story touched me in so many ways - i was also there just a short few months ago. i did not know about TWLOHA then but i am sure glad i do now and try to spread the message of you all and your good works. thank you for the work you do and keep spreading your message that “Hope is real. Help is real. Your story is important.” it is so powerful...

5 | Left by lisa g | Jun. 21, 2010 at 5:58am

This story has touched my heart in so many ways. You can never forget those who left us behind but to use our tragedies to help others to heal from their pain or the pain they want to put on themselves. One day, TWLOHA will change the world. I know it.

6 | Left by Jennifer | Jun. 21, 2010 at 12:56pm

Simply amazing. It touched my heart and brought tears to my eyes. Jamie you are amazing.

7 | Left by Nyssa | Jun. 21, 2010 at 1:58pm

I was actually in Virginia Beach all this week, but unfortunately wasn't able to make it. I've seen Jamie and Nicole speak twice about Zeke, and I distantly know some who knew him. I wish I could have been there, if just to support those who have suffered and have lost. My heart goes out to you all. To those who knew Zeke. To anyone who knows loss. To anyone who has felt like nothing will get better. To anyone who decided they wouldn't see tomorrow. May you all find hope, peace, Love, and Truth. <3

8 | Left by xrebeccax | Jun. 21, 2010 at 6:59pm

Virginia Beach is blessed to have had this event, and the people who put it together. As a resident, I feel tied to the community there that not only lives but survives together in the wake of pain.

9 | Left by Lindsay | Jun. 22, 2010 at 9:53am

This really is an amazing story. My heart goes out to anyone who has lost a loved one this way. My good friend lost his brother last summer and it was heart breaking to see the family suffer. TWLOHA gives such an important message and I hope it continues to help people realize that there is hope.

10 | Left by Katherine | Jun. 22, 2010 at 10:54am

Jamie,
Everytime I come to this site, it reminds me that though there is bad...there is the terrible, in a town where stories collide together, there's still hope. Hope not for change, because with hope comes change, but hope for something better, for a better place, a better world, a better future and life with a light at the end of the tunnel. Your story reminds of just how townlike and small this world is..uniting and colliding stories for this cause, for love -a love i didn't know existed until I was introduced to TWLOHA.
Thank you for this...
It gives me hope and strenght and the will to keep fighting for a better tomorrow. and trust me.. I've come a long ways.
and being able to show this message through my own testimoney, and yohe's and twloha is an incredible thing, even if I am just impacting one person at a time.
Thank you for leading by example and showing others how to follow that example.

11 | Left by Shelly | Jun. 22, 2010 at 11:43am

Mackenzie, I just wanted to take the time to say that, even though I don't know you or your story, I am thankful that you are here today. I believe so much in what twloha says and does, and no matter who you are, or what your story is, you matter and you are important. Whatever it was that caused you to make your decision, I truly hope is better now. Maybe you needed more people to tell you that you matter, I don't know. But as a complete stranger to you, I hope it helps you for me to say that you do matter.

12 | Left by Kay | Jun. 22, 2010 at 8:38pm

Jamie,
Your words are so powerful. I would really like to meet you. Will you be with TWLOHA on the Warped Tour? I am volunteering and I would really like to speak to you. Please e-mail me at emmaflute130@aol.com or anyone else that needs someone to talk to can e-mail me. I am here. I will listen. I care. Thank you. Lots of love and lots of hope, Emma <3

13 | Left by Emma | Jun. 24, 2010 at 11:13am

Mackenzie,
I don't know who you are. But you matter. I just know it. You are beautiful. You are smart. You are kind. You are wise. You have experienced the pain of a thousand lifetimes. I am alive and a part of TWLOHA for people like you. Please don't ever stop fighting. If you need a reason to live, live for me. If you need someone to talk to, please e-mail me at emmaflute130@aol.com and I will listen. I really want to hear your story. Lots of love and lots of hope, Emma <3

14 | Left by Emma | Jun. 24, 2010 at 11:17am

Mackenzie,
I don't know who you are, but you matter so much. When you walk into a room, people notice you. People know that you are there. Live each day to it's fullest. We were made to live, to love, and to be loved. Never give up, and know that someone out there is praying for you. Keep hoping for a better tomorrow. It's possible, even though it might not feel that way at times. Why do we do all of these things? We do them because there is not one person out there who doesn't matter. We all change the future. We all have stories. I'm praying for you.

15 | Left by Haley | Jun. 24, 2010 at 8:07pm

Jamie,
The way you write is very honest and inspiring. You are an extremely brave and strong person. I hope to attend a TWLOHA event one day, or just run into you at a coffee shop or something.
Hope you're doing well. Know that you're very important.
-Jovie

16 | Left by Jovie | Jun. 25, 2010 at 1:26pm

I smiled as tears rolled down my face when I read this. I lost my 17 yr. old son to suicide 2 years ago. We vacationed at Virginia Beach several times, the last time Andre was 15 yrs. old. We had our beach chairs positioned looking out at the jetty, the rocks, the surfers. I learned of twloha after losing my son and searching for answers...I wish we would have known about you 2 years ago. Your message is amazing and powerful. My heart and prayers are with Zeke's mother. What a wonderful tribute to her son!

17 | Left by Patti | Jun. 26, 2010 at 10:56am

What do I say? When I saw this story on facebook, my heart hit my throat. It seems so much more real to me, to see my own name in this story. I feel connected to this story, to these people.

Thank you, all of you at TWLOHA, for shining in the darkness.

18 | Left by Zeke S. | Jul. 2, 2010 at 9:35am

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