Today is day 154 without Joel. Friday, October 16, 2009. My first entry in Life Without Joel. Life without Joel is my punnishment, my life sentence. It 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, and have decided to write my thoughts and happenings here. Hopefully this will help me to heal and possibly help others in some way too. Joel lived by the motto, "Never Give Up, Never Give In."

Thursdays and Fridays are the worse days 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. I tried and tried to map a time line of his journey. Friday, May 15th at 9:30, Joel was crossing Hwy 17 and 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. But those hopes turned instantly to dread as the officer put on his hat and got out of the patrol car. 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. So anyway, it's about one O'clock now on this Friday afternoon and I thought I'd write about it.

I'm hoping to take my son, Brandon out this evening to shoot a hog. Joel and I bought a 7mm Browning so we could take up the sport about two months before he died. Joel aspired to be a gun smith and sighted in the rifle in just 9 shots. And to install the scope he had to file some very small screws without buggering them up. He would have been a fine gun smith. Unfortunately, that's all he got to do with the rifle. My afore mentioned officer friend has been taking us to a ranch where we can hunt hogs year-round. I think this will be our third trip. All the trips have been on a Friday. No particular reason. The first trip was good and bad. I was glad to get Brandon out of the house and doing something. We had just gotten our first camo hats and shirts from Bass Pro. So we were all rednecked up. My friend, Bill had brought his Son, Aaron. Aaron and Brandon hit it off and hunted together. We didn't bag anything but had a good time. And, Brandon and I were learning how to hunt. I didn't tell Brandon, but the trip required us to use Hwy 17 and go past the spot where Joel was hit. It was dark on the trip home and it began to pour rain. We approached the spot where Joel was hit. Through the headlights and rain I saw Joel run in front of us. I physically jerked in my seat and then began to cry as I imagined his crumpled body lying in the road. This sent me into a two-week long black depression. I couldn't function. I have not felt that depressed in a few weeks now. So maybe I'm on the road to recovery.

Friday, May 15, 2010, the worst day of my life. I have felt pain and sorrow 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.

I had someone drive my wife home from work so I could break the news to her.

"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. I remember waiting until my son, Brandon, came 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 other day when he got home. 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 ninety minutes or so. I remember waking up and I instantly began to sob, realizing Joel was not in bed in the next room.