Thank you for leaving condolence for my son Travis @

http://travis-hueppelsheuser.memory-of.com/About.aspx

As I looked at the memory book here, I could not stop the tears we both share. Our son's, so dear to our hearts, missing them every minute of every day, they left such a void in our lives.

We love them, we miss them, we talk to them, we look at their pictures and remember their love. We hold their memories within our hearts and minds.

If you would not mind, would you share your story with me?

cte08548@centurytel.net 

Sharing your love & your memories,

    Cat

Mark loved the simple things in life, namely, the splendor of God's creation.  Mark loved his family with all his heart.  His untimely death was by his own hand.  There are people in this world who look at suicide as the cowards way out.  I tell you that is a lie and a common misconception.  Ask anyone who is a suicide survivor and they will tell you their loved one was far from a coward.  Mark struggled with lonliness, meloncholy, and many unseen demons for more than half his life.  He was my brave little soldier.  He fought a war that most people don't even know exists.  He fought valliantly!  I hate that Mark had to fight this battle and I hate even more that he is not here on earth with us any longer, but I am comforted knowing that he is at peace, that there are no unseen demons or enemies at his door.  Many times during Mark's life, I prayed to God and asked Him to take Mark's pain away, to give his pain to me, because I am strong and able to handle it. Well, in a strange way, God answered my prayers. He took away Mark's pain.  The pain is now mine to bear along with Mark's brothers and sisters, his father, his grandparents, his aunts, his uncles, his cousins, his niece and his friends. 
      I do not believe that Mark took his life to hurt others. Quite the contrary. I believe that Mark took his life because he hurt so much and could not stand the pain.  I believe that seeing his loved one's suffer and hurt because of his hurting only intensified his pain.  I believe he thought he was setting us ALL free from pain and lonliness. There is a country song that Tim McGraw sings. The title is  KILL MYSELF. It's a really hard song to listen to, but I listen to it over and over and over again.  I look for answers in it. Initially the singer sites his feelings of sadness, lonliness and self pity as his reasons for killing himself.  {The drastic steps I'm takin' are just an act of desperation, No one's gonna miss me so what the hell}. Then he describes the pain he's caused others as his reasons. {I fought and lied, I drank too much, hurt everyone I ever touched, just how much I hurt you is hard to tell. It's not some kind of cry for help, just good bye I wish you well, because I love you}. Next he describes the positiveness of his dying. {Now who is that in my easy chair, Now wait a minute, thats the old me sitting there. And I thank God the devil in me died, I stand before you now, A man changed and alive}.     
      That is how I like to picture Mark, changed and alive.  I imagine that all his heartache and sadness has turned to joy and that he is alive. How happy he would be if all his pain and sadness were turned to joy. One thing I am sure of, Mark would never have wanted to hurt us the way we are hurting.  I do not believe he could see beyond his own pain.  He faced the battles of his life with such courage.  I like to believe that he won the last battle.  I KNOW that he is happy and at peace with Jesus and Mary. 
     Mark... I love you with all my heart and soul and I miss you more and more each day!!

 The Gentle Boy 
By Mary Withers

This one's for the gentle boy who wrestles with his pain, 
his easy-bruising tender heart, and ever-active brain.
He feels much more than others do, but then he tries to hide
with laughter or bravado, the gentle boy inside.
With wit and style and artifice, his secrets kept so well.
Who dreams the brave facade we see, conceals some private Hell?
Meanwhile, the brutes live on and on, in their unexamined lives
the low, the stupid, and the cruel, the sluggish dolt thrives.
To fill the world with empty talk and greed and hate and noise.
To breed, carouse, and make life Hell for all the gentle boys.
Some gentle boys grow heartsick, and tired of this charade.
They blow themselves right off the Earth, or fight, then fail, then fade.
If you should love a gentle boy, there's little you can do.
If he decides his time has come, he'll leave the Earth and you.
He cannot see that if he goes, you'll never fill that space.
You'll spend your whole life searching, for his laugh, his kiss, his face.
How can the gentle boy not know? You loved him beyond death,
you'd help him anyway you could, unto your dying breath?
Someday when justice reigns on Earth, we all will greet with joy
a world where it won't hurt so much to be a gentle boy.

On a rosebush full of blooms, there is occasionally one rose more fragile than the rest. And nobody knows why. The rose receives the same amount of rain and sun; it receives the same amount of water and food from the earth, the same amount of tending and encouragement from the gardener. But for some inexplicable reason, sometimes a rose does not reach maturity and it is not the gardeners fault. It is not the fault of the earth, or the rain, or the sun, but neither is it the fault of the rose. For some roses, even the touch of the gentle rain leaves bruises on its petals. And the suns rays, so warm to some flowers, are searing to the fragile rose. Some roses thrive, while the fragile ones are buffeted by inner and outer ghost winds. And so, despite best possibilities and predictions for a glorious blooming season, a particularly fragile rose will share its glow for only a while. And the gardener and the rosebush and the earth and all those around, grieve. We are never ready for a loss. Not for the loss of a rose or the loss of a loved one whose life appears ready to unfold with fulfillment. And in the midst of our grieving, we can be grateful we were in the garden during the same season. We can remember and celebrate glimpses of color and fragrance and growth. We can love the fragile rose, and the fragile soul, for the valiant battles won and the blooming that was done. And as our own petals unfold, we can remember the softness and beauty of the one who touched us all, all along the way.
Mark,
You were my beautiful, fragile rose. I know the garden you now bloom in is more splendid than any I could ever imagine, more splendid than any garden that exists on earth. It's your glorious petals unfolding that add the vibrant color to the sunrise and the sunset. For the fragile rose does not bruise in heaven, it blossoms and never ever dies! It's beauty fills the heavens and the skies with softness and fragrance and color until the end of time. I LOVE YOU MARK JASSON VAN GORDER, FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER!!!!!          Mum