Today is day 154 without Joel. Friday, October 16, 2009, my first entry in Life Without Joel. Life without Joel is my punnishment. Life Without Joel is my life sentence. Life Without Joel is my life without parole, it is my life without Joel.

I have thought about this project off and on for the past few months. I have struggled with emotional breakdowns and black depression since May 15, the day Joel died. The day my world self destructed. I hope to write my thoughts and happenings here. Hopefully this will help heal my soul and possibly help others in some way too. Joel lived by the motto, "Never Give Up, Never Give In." I hope I can come close to living those words.

Thursdays and Fridays are the worse days of the week for me. Although I am not as manic about it in the last few weeks. In the beginning all I could do was watch the clock and try to imagine where Joel was on May 14 and 15 (Thursday the 14th and Friday the 15th). I tried and tried to map out a time line of his journey. Many times I'd drive the route I thought he would have taken as I couldn't sit still alone at home. He had apparently left school around 1:20 and was missing until the next morning. Twenty hours without food. It rained five inches that night. He was cold, wet, and hungry. Friday, May 15th at 9:30, Joel was crossing Hwy 17 and was killed instantly as he was struck by a tractor trailer. He apparently lay in a pool of blood for hours while the road was shut down and the Highway Patrol did their investigation. It was about ten-till-one when an officer pulled up in front of my house. I thought it may have been a friend of mine with an update on Joel's whereabouts. I had phoned him the night before and told him Joel was missing. I asked him to put the word out to his fellow officers. I had hoped it was him pulling up but those hopes turned instantly to dread as the officer put on his hat and got out of the patrol car. It wasn't my friend and I knew when an officer put on his hat he was there on official business The officer knocked on the door with a clipboard in hand with Joel's picture on it. He said, "Joel was in an accident. He did not make it." I began to tremble and then was too weak to stand. Panic set in. Confusion set in. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. It seemed that time slowed. I sat down on the front step and thought there had to be a way to fix this. There must be a way to fix this.

When I dropped Joel off at school on the 14th I would have never imagined that it would be the last time I saw him alive. I often wonder if he had said anything I should have picked up on that morning; some sort of clue. My memory is that it was the same as every other morning.

Friday, May 15, 2009, the worst day of my life. I have felt pain and sorrow at times throughout my life. Pain over lost girlfriends, pets that have died. We all have. But nothing comes close to what I felt (and what I still feel) when I was told my son had been killed. Nothing I have ever felt in my life can compare to the agony and despair I felt in the following hours and days and then into week and months. To try and describe this pain is futile, unless you have experienced it yourself. People said to me, "I can't imagine what you're going through." And, they can't. But they don't know what else to say. And that's probably the best thing to say. It's certainly better than saying they know how I feel. They goddam sure don't know how I feel and what I'm going through; how deeply the pain rips at my heart.

I called my wife's boss and told him what had happened. I asked him to have someone drive my wife home from work so I could break the news to her. I asked him to make it look like they were going on an errand. I heard later he slamed his office door and threw things after my wife had started home.

"Joel was killed this morning at 9:30," I said.

And then I had to repeat the phrase several times as I called family and Joel's girlfriend. Relatives showed up very quickly. I remember waiting for my son, Brandon, to come home from school. I asked everyone to leave and come back later as I didn't want him to see things out of normal for him before I could tell him. He came in the door and asked, "where's Joel?" just as he did every single day when he got home. It was always the first thing he'd say. Those words, "Where's Joel?" toor open a hole in my chest as I followed him into his room and gave him the news. He wept on my shoulder. Joel was his best friend.

Vehicles began to gather around our house. People came in not saying much. Only crying. Some silently with their face in hands. Other's openly. My brother-in-law came in and squeezed me across the shoulders. But nothing eased the pain. The pain was so deep, so black. It was pulling at me. It was tying up my insides. It was tearing every cell apart. My heart felt like it was going to quit working. I thought only of Joel. I thought only that he was dead. I asked why.

I think we went to bed around one the next morning. And even though I drank a case of beer, I could only sleep a few minutes or so at a time. I remember waking up and I instantly began to sob, realizing Joel was not in bed in the next room. My son, Joel.