Category Archives: Writings

Imagining Jamie at 30 by Elene Bratton

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My life is that of a double task~ living my daily life while always wishing Jamie was in it, not the spirit of the innocent boy but all the iterations over the past 24 years, and who that would have made him today at 30-year-old Jamie. At 30 years old, I could imagine you all grown up. Your hair is short. You still have the same smile and the beautiful hug, but you’re a family man now. You have two kids, a wife, a dog. You run a corporation or a business? You finished college. You got your MBA. You are making a lot of money. I can imagine you a surfer, all you do is surf, smoke pot, hang out with chicks and dudes but don’t ever want to get married or have kids, just love the easy life of a beach bum. I can imagine you, Jamie, being a very devout Buddhist living in a monastery, practicing, being in the present moment and stopping every 15 minutes when the bell rings. You are so centered, and say that Buddha teaches best about always being in the present moment and loving everybody. You live simply and try to make a very light footprint on the earth. I imagine you, Jamie, living in my basement, unable to work, because of some mental health or physical health problem that you developed in your early teens that you have not been able to overcome. You try to keep up your spirit, but you get down a lot. You play a lot of video games have a full world inside the internet. All these versions of you in some multiverse can be true. But in my universe, you left your body at five years and 11 months, even though today is your birthday anniversary, I didn’t get to see years six through 30 of you in your body no matter how much time passed. That still hurts. That still feels like I was cheated and that you were cheated and that we were cheated, and that the universe is not fair. I know it was a car crash, maybe preventable, but certainly not on purpose. I know that none of these scenarios are in this universe where I have to live. I know that in this version of life your body left 24 years and one month ago and I know that through Jamie’s Joy, I have been able to celebrate who you were and who you are now and share your spirit with the world- the spirit of love, joy, peace and connection live on in Jamie’s Joy, live on in the sunflower and the butterflies seen and dimes found. It lives on through your book, a street named Jamie’s Way, it lives on through the events, it lives on and on. It lives on through all those that come in contact with you through an activity or the website or a picture that they have on their mantle. For them it is a beautiful tribute, they sense your spirit and you live on. But what doesn’t live on is you being alive as a living being here in my life, and all that would bring with it. No matter what circumstance, what universe might have shown up, I would have wanted to live that time with you. And while I know it was an accidental car crash that took you away from me, the only way that I can stay close to you now is by crying and writing and honoring and remembering my beautiful boy that I had for ONLY five years and 11 months, which was not and will never be long enough. AND I would have still wanted those Five years and eleven months, even if I knew it means pain for the rest of my days, which has now been twenty four years and one month. I miss you son, I wanna “jale tu palo.” Te amount para siempre. I love you and I miss you everyday Jamie, and I will always love you and miss you until we meet again~ Mama

©Elene Bratton, 2026

Lavender Wreath

Today marks twenty-three years since Jamie’s last day on earth. I woke up early this morning, as I do. Bleary-eyed, I read a couple of sweet messages from dear friends, delivered while I had slept. I have written something most years (all years?) on this anniversary of the worst day of my life. Today, though, I wasn’t certain I would write. I wasn’t sure I needed to. Or if I really had anything to say. 

That changed the moment I got into my work truck and both saw and smelled a small wreath of lavender someone had left on the rearview mirror. 

A few days after Jamie died, Danielle, his sister, requested a viewing. I had a visceral, negative reaction to this idea. I had always found the notion of viewings unsettling and awkward. After sitting with it for a couple of days, I decided that if it was important to Danielle, I would let go of my own discomfort. It would just be attended by a small group of family and friends.

The day we went to the mortuary, we were led into the room where Jamie’s body was laying. The woman who showed us in gently warned us that we should be careful with the right side of his face. I was shaking, filled with anxiety. As I saw Jamie, an indescribable heap of feelings came over me— just overwhelming. A combination of grief, horror, love, gratitude, anxiety, presence, aloneness, togetherness, and things I don’t even know how to put into words. We gathered around him, talking to him, loving him, gently touching him. One of us put a couple of drops of lavender oil on his forehead. I will never forget the scent. It was a mixture of lavender and death. To this day, it is hard for me to smell lavender without at least a touch of the death part wafting in.

I don’t enjoy the notion of “closure”, and that is not what the viewing provided. For me, the most poignant thing that happened was seeing Jamie for the last time appearing close to what he looked like before the accident, which was in stark opposition to what I had seen in those last devastating moments at Children’s Hospital. 

As I write this, I imagine if I were the one who had put that lavender wreath in the truck, and were reading this now, I would be feeling really concerned that I had inadvertently touched a raw nerve. However, that is not what happened for me. It was a beautiful, synchronous thing for me to experience. I was very grateful for that lavender wreath. 

Later this morning, I mentioned the lavender wreath to a dear work friend and, without telling the story, mentioned that there was this serendipitous aspect to it appearing there. My friend asked, cautiously, if it may have had anything to do with Jamie. She had no way of knowing, and at least consciously did not know the significance of today’s date. I said it did, and then she told me that Jamie had been in her dream last night! She had been unsure of whether to mention it, but I am glad she did!

Throughout the day, there were other Jamie connections and signs. I’ll keep some of them between me and Jamie, but they kind of kept coming.

I miss him. I love him forever. I’m grateful for the time we shared — and for the quiet, subtle ways he still touches my life.

Mychael
Jamie’s Dad

twenty years

pictures fade
memories blur
time pulses forward.

grief moves 
and changes
rises and falls.
love endures.

your presence 
weaves itself 
throughout this
long and fleeting life.

© Mychael McNeeley April 24, 2022
for Jamie Morgan (May 24, 1996- April 24, 2002)

25

May 24, 2021

Dear Jamie,

Today is your 25th birthday. Is that something to celebrate? Or is it time to grieve more since you have not been here for over 19 years?

Something that your mom and I have talked about is the way so many things are not simply “either/or,” but are instead “both/and.” This is one of those times for me. So yes, I am both (celebrating, appreciating, grateful, full of love) and (grieving, feeling loss, and a little mournful.)

Truthfully, though, my focus today has been leaning a little more toward that celebration side of things. I am so appreciating your presence in my life, both in that warm and affectionate body you had, but also in this bodiless form you have been in for so long.

A few things I am feeling grateful for today:

~ Sydney, your kindergarten girlfriend, who has become my close friend and “daughter-in-law,” and who stopped by this morning with vegan donuts and a beautiful handwritten note and laughter for the house and so much love and vibrance.

~a touching poem sent from my brother this morning.

~the love of my sweet wife, Debbie, and the laughter of my son, Liam- they brighten and add meaning to my life daily.

~contact from a few faraway friends today. I’m not sure if they would want or need name-mention here, but you know who you are. I love you and thank you.

~the incredible gifts of folks who helped when life was at its darkest. I’ve been thinking of Ken Druck, and the folks from The Compassionate Friends groups, and the Hospice folks who set up camps and classes for those in grief, and for Karl Anthony and Jean Lagorio, and Blair Tabor, and Julie Kyker, and for so many others who reached into our world of grief to offer so many things. There are too many to name here, from Adults of Unity friends to counselors to psychiatrists to ministers and musicians. I have been deeply blessed by a whole clan and crew of amazing humans surrounding me in my life.

~an absolutely beautiful day filled with love and abundance and great food and the Pacific Ocean.

~and last, but not least, upcoming bean, rice & guacamole burritos for dinner! I have eaten them in your honor for the past twenty of your birthdays. You did love a good bean burrito, and so do I!

This is really just a partial list. Thank you for all you taught me, all you continue to teach me, and all the love we continue to share, in whatever form we take. Happy Birthday, sweet, sweet son.

I love you forever, beautiful boy. i mo chroí go deo

© 2021 Mychael McNeeley

The Circle Of Life

The Circle of Life
by Elene Bratton

14 years ago my family had made plans to visit Jamie’s cousin Ari who was about 1 at the time, (now 16) in New York. Jamie was really into the Lion King, which had come out on Broadway and we made plans to see it while in the city. Unfortunately that was not to be, but here 14 years later the play has made it to San Diego. When my friend Ronda asked me if I wanted to go with her, I had to take pause. Was I ready. When I said yes, but only if I could take my grands (grandchildren) , Destiny 4 and Isaiah 6, in this way I felt I could complete this journey with them. Ronda was very generous and courageous, when she listened to my history with this play. Months have passed since we made that plan, but unlike the past, the day did arrive, with not a lot of thought but openness to what it would be. I arrived with all the stress of parking, fighting off throngs of ushers that that want to direct you to your seat and settling in getting the kids.at

I was prepared to feel sad about the journey that was thwarted by life all those years ago, but what I didn’t remember was how much the story reflected my journey of love and loss. As the animals presented themselves in the Circle of Life, the tears started to flow as I realized I was fulfilling that circle in my own life through the connection to legacy through the moments I shared with my grands. As I saw Musafa instructing his son on the ways of the world I remember giving Jamie such instruction, it also triggered a memory of Raell (my oldest grand –born 3 weeks after Jamie’s passing- now 14) as a baby, and holding him up in the air to9 survey his kingdom (only the backyard, but it’s what we got).

When Musafa was tragically killed, of course I plunged into my own sense as loss and grief. How sudden you can go from feeling on top of the world, that life just keeps getting better and better, to questioning everything: purpose, meaning faith, even the value of living and how loss lowers your sense of self in an instant.   But that running away simply doesn’t work. Grief will wait in the darkness and find you when you are most vulnerable. Your attempts to run will have to be stronger and stronger until the medicine itself can kill.   What has worked for me is to remember that we Interare, meaning always connected. When Simba asks Rafaki (the sage monkey-narrating the story). Did you know my father? He relies “Correction I know you father”.   This moved me so, causing me to reaffirm that what I know but also need to practice. As much as I know the Spirit of Jamie lives on in me, I also have to practice seeing him , his legacy of Love-Joy-Peace & Connection. That is really how I keep him alive in me. For a long time Simba , couldn’t feel the continuation because he couldn’t let go of his guilt to connect with the presence of his father an how his father was him and he was his father. We remain connected even if our bodies are apart.

Then it was beautiful to see the Lion King story reflected the approach I have taken in channeling my grief, through service. Once he felt that connection, he went back to his community to help. That is what we have done with Jamie’s Joy.   That is what I do each time I open my heart wide open to love again, to spend time with my family, my future, my grands, my community, my life. By continuing to be in the Circle of Life I not only honor the life of my son, but the whole of life.

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