Elisa Medhus - My Son and the Afterlife: Conversations from the Other Side

I offer my heartfelt gratitude to my husband, Rune; to my children Kristina Braly, Michelle Watts and her husband, Shane, Lukas Medhus, and Annika Medhus; my parents Jos and Jacqueline; and to my sister, Laura White, and her husband, Jim, for being a part of this collective journey from grief to comfort, and from mystery to understanding. Because of you, we have all never been closersomething rarely seen in families who have lost a child.

Id like to thank Kim ONeill for helping me make the first contact with Erik, which I so desperately needed. Kim, your gifts never cease to amaze me.

Jamie, youre something special, and the chemistry you have with my son is both touching and entertaining. Im glad he has you as his friend, regardless of the pest that he can be. And what can I say about your gift? I couldnt ask for a better voice for my son. You have given him life. For that, I am grateful.

Id also like to acknowledge my literary agent, Rita Rosenkranz, and the editor in chief at Beyond Words Publishing, Cynthia Black, both of whom believed in my workand in mewhen others did not. To believe in this book is to believe in my son, and that faith gives meaning to his death.

To managing editor Lindsay S. Brown, copy editor Sheila Ashdown, and proofreader Jennifer Weaver-Neist, I thank you for your patience. It must be difficult dealing with a greenhorn who is a bit broken.

To designer Devon Smith, Im grateful for the artful beauty you bring to the booktruly brilliant. And these acknowledgements would not be complete without giving my sincerest gratitude to those who give my book a voice that is worthy of the publics ear: Kim Dower, publicist extraordinaire, along with the marketing and publicity team at Beyond Words: Whitney Quon, Leah Brown, and Jackie Hooper.

Finally, I give thanks to my editors, Sylvia Spratt and Emily Han, for finding a diamond in the rough and working tirelessly to etch it out. Im grateful for all youve taught me.

Erik, my son, I am so proud of what you have become and of how your noble cause is changing the lives of so many. Youre opening eyes and hearts, and youre doing so in a way that is playful and authentic. Whats more, youre fulfilled and happy. No mother could ask for more. I love you.

No one lives in a vacuum. No on sits idly on an island waiting for a passing ship to bring them back into the folds of humanity. This book is the product of a team rich in dedication and faith forged by integrity and passion. Jamie, Erik, and I couldnt be prouder to be a small piece of that grand puzzle.

MICHAEL CARR

Elisa Medhus, MD , is a physician and mother of five who has practiced internal medicine for more than thirty years. She is the author of three award-winning parenting books and has lectured on parenting for schools, parent groups, and corporations. After the death of her twenty-year-old son Erik, Dr. Medhus began journaling her grief on her blog, Channeling Erik.

MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

SimonandSchuster.com

BeyondWordsPublishing
BeyondWordsPub

DISCOVER MORE GREAT BOOKS AT

E rik was born on September 21, 1989, at three in the afternoon. He greeted the world without even a whimper. Instead of howls of protest at the bright lights and cool air, he seemed content to take in his surroundings peacefully. Until he was around twelve or thirteen, he was a happy boy.

As a child, Erik had a keen eye for beauty. He adored women and was not afraid to compliment them on their hair or eyes or clothes, and he even proposed marriage to several female teachers in preschool. Whenever he went on walks with his classmates, he would stop to admire every flower, every insect, and every weedmuch to the dismay of his teachers. Erik also adored all things macho. He loved military garb and paraphernalia. He loved motorcycles, motocrossmotor-anything. He enjoyed working on engines, fixing his friends cars, and installing stereo systems and lift kits for them. Erik was also quite the clotheshorse. He loved dressing up in Pappa suits (a name that Erik coined as a kid for business suits), and, in the months before his death, he often walked around in a suit and tie for no reason at all. He was truly a mans man.

In keeping with his penchant for masculine endeavors, Erik longed to participate in all the sports his father engaged in: motorcycle racing, motocross, slalom skiing, and other activities that caused me as a mother and wife to close my eyes and cringe. But he was clumsy like me, and my husband, Rune, is a very protective father, so Erik never did get to participate in those death-defying endeavors to the extent that he wanted. I think his clumsiness is a sign that, like me, Erik is more comfortable in spirit than in the physical.

As masculine as Erik was, he was also a sensitive boy. He instinctively knew when people needed a hug or a kind word of encouragement. Even as young as nine months old, he would pat our backs to comfort us when we held him in our arms to provide him with comfort! Erik never wanted to upset anyone. I remember one day, when he was around two or three years old, I brought him home from the pediatricians office, thighs and arms littered with Band-Aids from immunizations. It had been a tough afternoon for the little guy. But when his father asked how he was, Erik answered with a smile on his tear-stained face: I have a good time.

As he grew up, Eriks charm and charisma only blossomed more. His smile and laugh could light up a room. He never knew a stranger and would talk the ear off of anyone he met. As much as he could talk about his life, though, he was even better at asking others about theirs. Erik was a master at listening to others with great patience and compassion. He also reached out to those he felt were struggling like him. I cant begin to count the number of strays he brought home for Mamas cooking and for the nurturing companionship of our family. Eriks sense of play was infectious; he loved being silly, playing pranks, and crafting wonderful jokes for all to enjoy. None of his jokes or pranks were mean spiritedthey were all loving and endearing.

Erik had noble priorities compared to many of his peers in our socioeconomic class. He was far from spoiled. Rather, he was grateful for everything he had, and often said so. He loved to share, to give to others. What he cared about the most was family and friends. Erik was never a petty person with false pride. He had a big heart and soul and was quick to apologize sincerely when he said or did something hurtful, even to his siblings.

But Erik had his struggles. He suffered from learning difficulties, which made school an unwelcome and often overwhelming undertaking. Despite our encouragement and understanding, his academic shortfalls ravaged his self-esteem. Peersand even some thoughtless teacherscalled him stupid to his face. To make matters worse, he also suffered from Tourettes syndrome, and his odd tics and mannerisms left him vulnerable to unkind remarks. It was during his middle school years that I began to see this happy, charming, affectionate child transform into a stranger. He slowly built a shell of toughness to protect himself from a cruel world. He smiled less often and was involved in a number of fistfights at school.