25
To most, its just a number, but today its YOUR number.... today you would have been your 25th Birthday.

I have had so many thoughts and reflections leading up to today, and its hard to keep the what if’s from creeping in.. 

Twenty five years ago, I was 25, and I gave birth to my first son, Nicholas Arthur Savage (yes, Arthur is a family name). 

I remember being more scared than excited if I were to be honest, because becoming a parent is one of those “Big things” in life... and you really don’t want to screw it up. 

I read every “What to Expect” book, and took notes at appointments and bought all the latest and greatest “ Must haves” for newborns. 

I also kept journal back then and yesterday pulled out my pregnancy journal, and my last entry was written on Nov. 25th 1995. 

I couldn’t help reading my last entry over and over again last night....

” Today you moved and moved so much..Maybe you will be here soon? I often think about what kind of person you are going to be.....have a feeling you are going to be a mover and shaker in this world! I can not wait to meet you... I just know you are going to make not only a difference in my world but in the world around you. I love you already to the moon and back.”

Nick... I still feel the same way about you today... you have made a difference in my world and in the world around you.... only difference now is “I love you to heaven and back”

That last entry was meant to be read by me last night... I needed to be reminded that the what if’s don’t matter and that you still are a “mover and shaker”. I just needed to see it in a different perspective, and I saw it last night. 

So on today.... your 25th Birthday... we will celebrate you how we always did, pumpkin pie with extra whip cream!

Happy 25th Birthday Nick!
I love you Always....more


Mom


​oh..... and is a a coincidence that his hockey jersey was #25???

I have a couple secrets...
1.  I have “day” pajamas AND “night” pajamas.
2.  Breakfast has been known to be served at 1:00 pm at my house.
3.  Not having enough time to do my laundry is apparently NOT the reason my laundry isn't done.

AND... you know what?? It’s OK! I could go on and on about what I have not completed/accomplished or done with my time in the last few weeks. I think that is so easy for all of us to do, when there are so many feelings of uncertainty.  Lots of things are uncertain right now... financial stability of businesses, jobs, the health and well-being of our families and community, or just an overall sense of how and will we survive Covid-19? Most of us have been quarantining ourselves for the last 2-3 weeks and by now, we have had lots of time to think about how this pandemic could affect us or our families. And you know what? It is so easy to find ourselves focusing on the negative.
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This is a mindset I had to reset this weekend. I was so focused on the mess we still had in our yard from leaves and leftover junk from last year that I almost didn’t see the beautiful flowers growing through the mess.

And then it hit me. There can be beauty in this quarantine time, and that beauty is my Quality Time with my family! We have had pajama day, and we have stayed up way too late binge watching Tiger King, then slept in and had breakfast at 1:00 pm and really... WHO CARES about laundry. Right? My QT has allowed me to do these things that I may not have otherwise been able to do or made the time to do... and I LOVED every second of it!

You see, I truly believe that out of darkness, beauty can come. And that there is beauty around us if we just take the time and see it. 

Quarantine Time = Quality Time

How are you spending your QT? 

​Is your QT allowing you to see what really matters?

​Have you had a pajama day yet?

Whoa, how life suddenly changed. For all of us. Funny how that happens, isn't it? Less than two weeks ago, we were all humming about our busy schedules, trying to figure out how would possibly accomplish everything on our “to-do” lists and (many of us) looking forward to a warm spring break somewhere sunny. Now, many of us are canceling those plans and working to figure out our new/temporary normal. As we do that, I wanted to pass along a few ideas of family bonding and other activities to do at home during the quarantine.

1. Clean our your medicine cabinet!
As you organize and clean out cabinets during all this time at home, make it a priority to clean out your medicine cabinets. Our Drop2Stop locations throughout Northern Indiana and Southwest Michigan offer safe and convenient (almost curbside!) drug disoposal.

2. Talk with your kids about an exit plan. 
If your kids are in school, they are old enough to have this conversation. Let’s fill this time with meaningful discussions… including the importance of making good choices, the importance of being a good friend and the importance of having an exit plan! This “plan” comes into play when they are in a situation that makes them feel uncomfortable or where bad choices are being made – the exit plan helps them get out of (or exit) it. Have them call you or text an ‘x’. Then you know to reach out to them and you come up with the excuse to pick them up. We, as parents, can help them navigate through tricky times.
 
​3. Take a Walk.
There has never been a better time or excuse to connect with your kid and find out what’s going on in their life. It sounds so simple but realistically, how many of us know the day-to-day of our kids’ lives from THEIR perspective? Their perspective on what’s going on in their life is probably a little different than yours! Relationship building is truly priceless.

Every young hockey player that grows up in South Bend, Indiana has, at one point or another, dreamed of playing hockey for the University of Notre Dame. Nick and Jack were no different.

​I remember how their eyes would light up as they watched the Irish – and if a hockey player happened to glance their way, that would be the topic at bedtime tuck ins for many, many nights that followed. They knew every Notre Dame player, their position, stats, etc. To say they were fans would be an understatement! So about a year ago when we were approached about a potential partnership with the Notre Dame Hockey team, I was speechless.

When you travel to different cities with the same kids and parents every weekend to play in hockey tournaments, you build friendships. The kids, the parents… it’s just what happens. You become close with those people and they become part of your life – your hockey family.

That’s where Notre Dame sophomore forward Graham Slaggert comes in. He played travel hockey with Jack and was also friends with Nick.

Graham contacted me last winter, saying he wanted to run an idea by me.  During that meeting, Graham told me he was working with Under Armour to design a jersey for his team to wear and show support for 525 Foundation, while also serving as a way to honor and remember the two friends he lost.

I am touched that Graham felt so deeply about a cause that he decided to take action. Then he talked to his teammates about his idea and explained why it was so important. They decided to take action. With the support of the team, the coaching staff and others within the Notre Dame Hockey organization took action as well. The ripple effect... This is how you make change. The impact of that ripple effect is truly what 525 Foundation is all about, touching one person at a time.

This Saturday, February 15, Nick and Jack’s childhood dream will come true. My boys will be ON THE ICE (well... represented on the ice) during a Notre Dame hockey game! The team is wearing the commemorative jersey Graham worked to design. It is very similar to the one the boys wore all those years ago when they played for our local travel hockey team, the Rovers. Each jersey also has a patch on the inside collar with the ND logo AND the 525 Foundation logo!

Because of this partnership, we have the opportunity to continue the ripple effect. A parent at the game might have an opportunity to learn about the Foundation’s mission and share our story with their children. A college student at the game might learn about what happened to Jack and Nick and perhaps make a life-altering choice later that night when they are out with friends. A community becomes safer because fewer unused prescription medications are on the streets. 

Years from now, I hope Nick and Jack are remembered for their stats… how many tens of thousands of pounds of pills were collected because of them, how many lives they touched and how much of a difference they made in their own community and beyond. 

There will also be a secure pill drop at Saturday’s Notre Dame hockey game, sponsored by Drop2Stop – a program started by 525 Foundation that gives people a safe and easy way to dispose of unused prescription pills. Bring expired or unneeded pills with you to the game and drop them off at a table inside the front doors.
 
Game Info: Saturday, February 15 at 6pm, Compton Family Ice Arena
Irish “Wear Green” Night
Opponent: Minnesota Gophers
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GO IRISH! 

When I turned 20, 30, or even 40 years old, I had a vision in my mind of how the rest of my life would look.
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At 20, I knew I wanted to be a mother (someday)

At 30, I had 3 boys and knew I wanted 1 more.

At 40, my husband and I spent what felt like every single weekend at hockey tournaments (often two or three different tournaments in two different states), cheering on our boys.

​At 44, I watched Nick– my first-born – graduate high school, then we moved him into his college dorm. I remember being so proud of him and thought he had so much life ahead of him. Jack graduated the following year and was set to leave for college in the fall. I envisioned them earning degrees, getting married and starting families of their own.

At 45, I buried both of them. On the same day.
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Since the boys passed in 2015, the holidays have become an incredibly reflective time of year for me. Everything stirs up a memory, an emotion or a tear. However, this year it seems to be even more so… even more so because December 26th is my birthday, and it is a milestone birthday for me. I turn 50.  ​

Last weekend, when I wasn’t getting a cardio workout on the interstate as our youngest son Matthew drove us to his hockey tournament in Ohio, my mind started to drift. I thought about these past 50 years and how much “life experience” has been packed into them. I thought about how different life has been from how I thought it would be… and as much as we hear about being sad, or dreading the fate of turning another year older, this year I only have feelings of thanksgiving. I’m so thankful because I know turning 50 (or any age) is not something everyone has been granted. 

I’m so thankful for each and every year I have been blessed to have. I’m grateful for the memories we made as a family of six and the ones we continue to make as a family of four. I’m honored that the tragedy in my 40s brought me the mission of 525 Foundation that will continue through my 50s and beyond – saving lives by continuing to share my family’s story with anyone who will listen. 

The greatest gift of I received this year is perspective in knowing I AM the mother of four incredible boys… two who bring me the greatest joy with their being and make me proud each and every day; and two who continue to make an impact in our world from a distance. And a birthday can’t change that.​

You know what? Turning 50 isn’t such a bad thing, and I vow to use each of my days ahead to do good. I also challenge you to view the days you’re given as a blessing. Embrace the age you are and rock it - no matter what number it is. Live life to its fullest. Find ways to make an impact in your community. Help others when they need it. Love one another, even when life gets hard. I promise, you’ll be so much better for it.

​A few months ago during a drive to southern Indiana to speak to high school students, I glanced in my rearview mirror and gasped at an incredible autumn sunrise. It was just so beautiful that it took my breath away… one of those experiences that made me feel as though it was meant for me to see. I snapped a quick picture because I wanted to hang on to that moment. Sometimes we look at the sky differently – especially sunrises and sunsets – when we know we have someone up there. I felt the message that morning.

​I had a similar “goosebumps” kind of feeling over the summer. I’d just left a Youth Summit at the convention center in our hometown, where I spoke with hundreds of kids about Nick and Jack; and why I encourage kids and parents to talk openly with one another, educate themselves and put an exit plan in place. As I drove home, I was having a woe is me moment… really, really missing my boys, when suddenly I was cut off by another car. At first I was mad, but then I noticed the vehicle. It was a blue Jeep! 

​A chill ran through my body. Nick and Jack drove a blue Jeep – same make, model and color. For a split second, my mind played a trick on me. I thought it was my boys. But then reality set in and I knew they were not behind the wheel of that blue Jeep. I smiled because I knew they were trying to get my attention, waving their arms from Heaven, trying to tell me to snap out of my funk and “Suck it Up, Buttercup – we’ve still got work to do.”
 
As I’ve shared before, moving forward has been a progress over perfection kind of thing. These moments happen from time to time and I’m getting better at embracing and leaning into them. These days, I find myself smiling more than crying when I can feel my boys speak to me. Those little reminders help me realize Nick and Jack are with us every single day, even if they are not in my arms where I want them to be.
 
Just the other day, an Eric Church song came on the radio while I was driving to an appointment. Similarly to the way I’ve reacted to every Eric Church song for the past four-and-a-half years, I lifted my hand to change the station.
 
Then I froze.
 
Eric Church. The last concert I saw with my boys, three weeks before Nick and Jack passed. I’d played his songs dozens of times before in my car with not so much as a head bob from my eldest teenage son; but after that concert with Kenney Chesney, Eric Church and other performers in 2015, Nick spent the next three weeks downloading and blasting every Church song he could find. He learned the words. He sang along. It spoke to him. I loved to watch my shy, smart kid connect with music, especially music that I loved!

​After the boys died though, I couldn’t listen to Eric Church without breaking down. Too many memories. Too painful. So I simply changed the station.
 
Every.
 
Single.
 
Time.
 
But this time was different. As I went to change the channel, I paused. And then I cranked the volume. I sang as loud as I could… for my boys, for the ways we’re changing lives by continuing to share their story, for the ways they show me they’re proud and for the immense love I will always have for them!

What I wouldn’t give to hear Nick say, “Play that back one more time!” to an Eric Church song on my radio.
 
Today is Thanksgiving, and it’s also Nick’s birthday. It’s a monumental day for our family. He would be 24. Thinking about what he would be doing in life right now brings mixed emotions. We miss him and his brother so, so much.  

​After Jack and Nick died, we never slept another night in the house where it happened. I couldn’t do it and had no interest in trying. We would hang out there during the day and do what needed to be done, but when night came, we packed up and drove the 20 or so minutes to our lake home.

We’ve had that lake house since the boys were little, spending every possible moment of our summers there. By default, it became the place where we privately grieved and eventually began to piece our shattered lives back together. It was almost like an oasis. I could breathe there. I could think.

Since the boys died –  four years ago – we’ve continued our lake house summer tradition, eventually selling our old home and buying a new one a few miles down the road.  During that time, the lake house was the one part of our lives that stayed exactly the way it’s always been. The boy’s favorite room in that house was always what we called ‘the bunk room.’ All four of them slept in there, hung out with friends and did whatever else boys do when they’re together. Mike and I always slept upstairs in the loft.

But this year we decided it’s time to change things up a bit. We’re moving the bunk room upstairs and our bedroom to the main floor… essentially swapping them.
​
To prep for that, I found myself alone at the lake house a couple weeks ago, cleaning out the bunk room. And it unexpectedly wrecked me.

​So many memories from summers past. Each of our boys had a dresser in the bunk room with their own clothes. Jack and Nick’s little t-shirts they wore when they were in grade school were still in some of those drawers. I found pictures they drew, books Nick read and saw the little sailboats they used to float in the lake.

​I also found cards from both boys’ high school graduation parties – some of Jack’s remained unopened – since the last time we’d all been at the lake together was for his graduation party, only a few days before he died. I laughed (and cried) out loud at a post-it note my sweet Nick left inside one of his brother’s cards: I took $20. I owe ya.

​Most kids, let alone brothers, wouldn’t leave a note or intend to pay someone back. But Nick was thoughtful like that. He definitely would have reimbursed his brother that $20.

As I sorted through what seemed like a mountain of happy but also deeply painful memories, I kept trying to tell myself it’s all just stuff. But unfolding and refolding those little t-shirts with SpongeBob on the front brought back vivid memories of the boys sitting around the bonfire with friends on a cool summer evening. Seeing their old bed sheet sets brought back their voices, talking all night long, and me walking down the hallway to tell them to quiet down. Again… and again.

And right there, I fell apart. As grief often does, mine snuck up on me on an unexpected day at an unexpected time, inside that cozy bunk room with dark brown, knotty pine walls and two sets of twin bunk beds (four beds in total) where my boys used to sleep. That is the thing with grief… it is with you all the time. Sometimes it is a quiet uninvited guest and sometimes it is loud and in charge. I was so frustrated not to be able to get through those old drawers - the drawers nobody even used anymore - but SpongeBob got me…

​I told myself their lives gave us memories too beautiful to forget.

I told myself the tears were just love that was overflowing from my heart

I told myself painting a few walls doesn’t erase the memories.

​I told myself change can be good… even though it’s difficult.

Maybe I haven’t touched that room for the past four years because I’ve been busy. Or maybe I subconsciously wasn’t ready. Either way, I told myself it was ok… I’m grateful for that day in the bunk room, and happy memories that strangely allowed my heart to heal just a bit more.

When I first noticed them, goosebumps rippled from my neck down to my feet. Buttercups....Of course there were Buttercups. I hadn’t requested that particular flower for our second fundraising gala for 525 Foundation – the non-profit organization my husband and I created to remember our two late sons – yet, there they were, sweetly tucked into the table arrangements.

​I smiled.
 
Buttercups.
 
The boys used to call me that… “Buttercup.” And during Nick and Jack’s viewing nearly four years ago, I kept telling myself, ‘Suck it up, Buttercup,’ so I could continue greeting the hundreds of people who showed up to pay condolences. 

​Out of the darkness of losing our oldest sons, Mike and I have found hope in the shape of making a difference in the lives of others by sharing our tragedy.  
 
We are inspired by the legacy of love we feel for our boys and inspired by parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, educators, coaches, community leaders, celebrities and kids who continue to tell our story and – as a result – save lives.
 
We are also inspired by our two surviving sons, Justin and Matthew, knowing we must do everything we can to make this world a safe place for them. We’re inspired by the communities we’ve touched and, in turn, the way they touch our hearts with their stories, emails and cards.
 
I realized a while ago… when we focus on what we can change and quit worrying about what we cannot change, change happens!
 
525 Foundation is putting our energy into a fight we can win and change we can bring to life. We can make a difference... YOU can make a difference!

In the past year, we created Drop 2 Stop™, a way to properly dispose of prescription drugs, partnering with Martin’s Supermarkets to launch the program at three Martin’s grocery stores. Since last August (8 months ago), Drop 2 Stop™ collected 2,000 pounds of pills. Think about how much one prescription pill weighs…and that one pill can kill someone. Wow. That’s a lot of lives potentially saved because of YOUR efforts  with safe disposal!
 
I’m so proud to share that by the end of this year, all 18 Martin’s stores in our area will have a safe, convenient way to dispose of prescription drugs. Beacon Health System also committed to installing permanent Drop 2 Stop™ boxes at several locations in Elkhart, Marshall and St. Joseph Counties. This program is expanding to other communities soon.
 
This fall, we’re launching WISE-UP – a program 525 Foundation developed through parent feedback. WISE-UP is a series of one-sheet “lessons” to help parents and educators tackle issues teens struggle with on a daily basis. The goal is to encourage conversations and communication.
 
In the past year, 525 Foundation has shared our story face-to-face with more than 90,000 parents, students, educators, lawmakers and anyone else who will listen.
 
And we’re only gaining momentum. 

​So to see faces of our dear friends and supporters – including Tammy and Terry Bradshaw, Mo and Jim Dorgan, Brian and Paqui Kelly – in the crowd at our gala, continuing to stand by our cause so loyally, we are humbled and encouraged. 
 
To see local and national businesses stepping up to sponsor and help with our work, we are energized and grateful.
 
To see 32 students and a handful of chaperones from eight local high schools joining us at the gala to learn and take our message back to their peers, we are excited and honored.
 
To see continued love and support so many of you show our family and our mission, we are simply blown away.

Oh, and the Buttercups.
 
To see a sign of our sons appearing at the most unexpected but perfect time reminds us to keep pushing for change and to continue telling their story. Of course there were Buttercups. ​

The little ornaments they made are still so perfect. All these years later, their tiny glued-on faces and pipe-cleaner reindeer antlers are still in place. Well, for the most part.
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One by one, I unboxed those decorations and hung them on the tree, reliving 23 years of memories all at once. It’s a strange rush of emotions… painful because two of my sweet boys who made those ornaments for me are gone forever; joyful because I had the privilege of so many happy Christmases with them.

Then the stockings.

I hate this part.

Do I take out and hang all four? Or just two? What’s the right thing to do? Does it even matter? This is our fourth Christmas without Nick and Jack and I still don’t know what to do with the stockings.

Oh, and Christmas cards. I love receiving them. I find so much joy in seeing how our dear friends’ families are growing and succeeding and changing the world. But since our boys passed, I haven’t sent any Christmas cards from our family. I just can’t do it.

This is the so-called ‘most wonderful time of the year.’ I see it on my Instagram and Facebook feeds and in overflowing shopping bags at the mall. But while everyone else is looking forward to family gatherings and putting the perfect gifts under the tree, I am aware of the two faces missing from my family pictures, Christmas gifts I won’t be buying and the two empty seats at our table.

There’s not a day I don’t think about losing Nick and Jack. My heart and soul changed forever the day they died, as did my reality of a “happy” life. The new reality is a heartache that will always play a prominent role in who I am because it’s now woven into the fiber of my being and it will stay there – even during the happiest of times.

But here’s the thing. Life is not all darkness and devastation, nor is it all sunshine and roses. I’ve learned it’s a balancing act. And at times, that balance is exhausting.

Yes – this will probably always be a difficult time of year for me. I’m not asking you to understand or to try and relate, but here’s what I want you to know. As time goes on, I’m getting better at not wallowing in the sadness. I have accepted the fact that this is simply my normal.

I’m also able to find periods of clarity when I can reflect and be truly thankful for all the blessings in my life – there are many. It’s a mindset and a choice. We can choose to focus on all we’ve lost and everything we don’t have, or we can focus on what’s in front of us today and the moments we’re blessed to share with the people we love. It’s a conscious effort we make every single day.

I truly feel that, in some ways, our loss opened doors to blessings my family may not have otherwise received. And by refocusing our outlook, we’ve realized those blessings. For example, I am so thankful for the opportunity to share our story with the hope of rewriting someone else's story - saving lives in the process. I’m thankful for each new friendship that has been nurtured out of darkness, because our lights shine brighter together than they ever could alone.

I’m grateful for realizing my purpose. Had I not suffered this loss, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to visit schools across the country and meet the people I’ve met and speak to over 90,000 kids in more than a dozen states. Each person I have met along the way… has been a blessing in one way or another. Then there’s the invitation I recently received to be part of the Survivor Advocate Network with the National Safety Council. Get this: pairing our story with their connections could potentially reach hundreds of thousands of people across the country. That’s a chance for Nick and Jack's story to save more lives!

I share all of this because I know I’m not the only one coping with a loss during what is supposed to be such a happy time of year. I know there are others out there like me because they send me messages on Facebook and via email. Their hearts are also aching. They too don’t know what to do with their loved ones’ stockings. They also can’t bring themselves to send Christmas cards.

Just like mine, their families will never fully be the same. We’re different now… trying to navigate our new normal.

For us, that means creating new traditions. We’re finding new ways to celebrate the holidays, discovering new traditions where joy is present. This Thanksgiving, for example, I slowed way down and spent the entire weekend with my boys. I didn’t go into the office, didn’t check emails and existed in the moment. I enjoyed those moments more than I ever did before and it felt so good. My boys are a true blessing in my life and I do not take that for granted.

If you’re struggling with a loss of your own this holiday season – death, job loss, divorce or something else – I want you to find hope in knowing joy can exist hand-in-hand with pain in this chapter of your life. I encourage you to appreciate every second you have with the people you love most. Find the beauty in those relationships.

And if you’re still struggling to see the good, look harder. Find it. ​The pain is real and raw. But joy is waiting for you on the other side…

Merry Christmas, 
​Becky

Have you ever been to a grocery store or gas station and left there feeling like you just had a moment or a chance encounter with someone you know will forever impact your life? Well that's exactly how I feel as I reflect on how the past month impacted me. 

I experienced moments that brought me into strangers' lives, to touch them (and possibly change their direction) in a way that also helped me reap so many benefits as well. There were moments in front of hundreds of wide-eyed high school students who were shocked by the words coming out of my mouth. I shared a moment at the front of a room full of tearful parents who showed up to hear my story and learn something from me.
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I had a moment in Iowa, when a teenage boy bravely raised his hand in an auditorium full of other students and asked me, “Can you die from just trying it one time?”

That one sent a shiver down my spine.