I have been meaning to post this for more than a week, but I somehow could not summon the courage to write it until now. I am writing to say that I have decided to start the new year by ending my blog – for now – and to thank you all for coming back to my website so often since my book was published.
This is a painful decision, but it is time to let go a bit. That is to say, it is time for me to look to the future and to take steps to move on. Make no mistake, I will hold on to every memory I have of Charles and will love him for the rest of my days on earth. And I intend to share more of my and Jordan’s life with you in a sequel to the book that I hope to publish in the future. I may also resume the blog briefly when the movie based on “A Journal for Jordan” hits the big screen. (More on that when we have an announcement.)
I will still check in regularly for comments left on my website because so many people graciously continue to write in. And, while I have been unable to respond personally to every message because of the volume I receive, I will still read ever one.
I also want each of you to know that I will never forget any of you or your kindness. I have received so many letters, emails, cards, prayers, hugs and other expressions of sympathy and encouragement from people from all walks of life and from all over the world. I have been so humbled to hear from soldiers and their families, from teenage girls from as close as Pennsylvania and as far away as Saudi Arabia. I got a lovely hand-written note from an 89-year-old woman who did me the honor of describing what I wrote as “a forever book.”
I have been so moved to hear from people working through their own grief, from people who opened up about problems in their own lives and relationships and from countless women who say they have fallen in love with my Charles. That makes me laugh, and I know Charles would blush if he knew. Some people have reached out to me simply to say that they are praying for us, which is the greatest blessing anyone can give Jordan and me.
As for my son, he is blooming, even in the cold of winter. Jordan is healthy and happy and smart and witty and confident. His dad would be so proud. He is surrounded in love. He has grandparents and a sister and aunts and uncles and cousins and godparents and friends who simply adore him. Jordan brings us boundless joy with his infectious spirit and laughter. He loves the subway and museums and pasta and vanilla ice cream and Thomas the Train. These days what he loves most is his new puppy, a toy Yorkie named Bailey that he got for Christmas!
I am so thankful for Jordan’s life, just as I was for Charles’s. And I am eternally grateful that among the many things he will have growing up to teach him about his father and about life are the wonderful messages from all of you, which I am saving for him.
I am a writer, but I simply cannot find the words to express how thankful I am for that part each of you had in helping to heal my heart from a loss I did not think I could endure. Your compassion has changed me profoundly and permanently. I have a new appreciation for the decency of people, and you all remind me that we are more alike than we are different — that, ultimately we are one family in God’s eyes.
It is hard to let go of such support, but I don’t want to think about it that way. I’m thinking of this as me setting out on a new adventure and writing a new chapter of my life – one that you can be sure I will share with you when the time is right.
Until then, God bless and keep you each and every one.
With a full heart, I say farewell for now.
Dana

Wishing you all a Happy Holiday and blessed New Year!

Love,

Dana and Jordan

I have always believed that it is important that Jordan not be made to feel like a “little man” — that there is no pressure on him to fill in the empty spaces of a fatherless home. I want Jordan to be silly and playful, to be full of wonder and to get lost in his books and finger-painting projects. He does all of that, for sure, but I am coming to see that being a little man is simply Jordan’s way. He is so determined to take care of me, and it is the sweetest thing I have ever experienced.
Just last night Jordan asked, “are you my mommy?” I said “yes, sweetie, you know I’m your mom.”
“Nah,” he replied, “you’re my girl!” I beamed.
He is always saying and doing the most loving things. He likes to feed me food off his plate (those of you who have read my book may recall that Charles used to do that a lot.) He pats me on the back if I cough and asks if I need some water. if I yawn he asks if I’m tired.
One day recently my amazing little guy hugged my neck and said, “Mommy, my daddy loved you.”
I was moved beyond words. Mind you, Jordan is only three. Imagine what a gentleman he will be when he is 21.
To be honest, Jordan does have his tantrums at times. When he does not get his way he will sometimes say, “Mommy, I don’t love you” and wait for my reaction. I just smile and say, “you can be mad at me all you want, but I still love you very much.”
I’m actually relieved that he has his naughty moments, because that means he is a normal kid. But what it does to my heart when my son tells me he likes my hair or asks his baby sitter if she will help him make dinner for mommy (usually that invovles him helping with the salad). I love how he loves me, but I surely don’t want Jordan to feel like he has to take care of mommy — not now or ever. Having him in my life is all I will ever need from him.

 I expected to want to stay in bed today, to be weepy. I am not.
Today is the third anniversary of Charles’s death, and I am feeling remarkably strong. Maybe it is because I feel Charles’s presence with me, or maybe it is because I know he is proud of me for taking steps to heal. Certainly it is because our little boy looks and walks and thinks so much like his amazing father. In Jordan, so much of Charles still lives. And Jordan is a reminder every day of just how much Charles loved me. He gave me the best thing he had to give – a son – and that precious expression of our love lives on in the amazing spirit of our remarkable boy.
Yes, I want Jordan to be his own person, not a shadow of his father, but I think one day he will be proud to know how very much he takes after his dad – and how that helped to heal mommy in her darkest days. I am not done grieving, and some of the most painful parts of this process I suffer alone. I still have a long way to go. I still cannot imagine dating, even though Charles has been gone three years now. It feels like just a year to me, and my grief is made more difficult every time Jordan turns to me and says he wants his daddy.
And yet we are thriving in other ways. Jordan loves books and chocolate and the beach, which he gets from me. He can debate almost any subject with gusto, also something he picked up from me. And he is remarkably honest, which he takes from both of us. Just last night he patted my stomach and said, “Mommy your tummy is getting too big. You need to exercise.” He is right, of course, (I have let myself go a bit and need to work on it) but I just kept thinking that he is just three and already commenting on my weight and already deciding what he wants for breakfast and who in his pre-school he thinks is smart, or not so much. My, how time flies.
I have no doubt that Charles wants us both to keep moving forward. I am going to dedicate the next year of my life to doing just that.

Hi,
I just wanted to let you all know that “A Journal For Jordan” just arrived on bookstore shelves in paperback. It’s the same book but with a new cover that I think is really beautiful. I hope you all like it as much as I do. Take good care.
Dana

  Well, everyone, our little guy started his second year of preschool today! He is in a new class with many of his old friends and I think it’s going to be a wonderful year of learning and growth. Jordan’s school takes early education very seriously, but all in the context of play and socalizing. There are four teachers in the 3-year-olds class, two with master’s degrees in early childhood development. All for 12 children; isn’t that intense?
The class will be studying transportation this year and the meaning of community, among other subjects like reading basics. The kids all have “jobs” too. They are assigned to water plants in the room, wipe off tables after activity time or help prepare snacks. The job changes every three weeks. No paycheck, though, so the boy is still unemployed.
Jordan already has his eye on some cute girls in school. I just hope he pays as much attention to his studies, such as they are.
Stay tuned for more developments as the year progresses.

Jordan and I were having dinner the other day with his godmother Miriam and her two-year old son Luke when a waitress came over to our table to say how cute the boys were and asked their names. We told her and then explained that Jordan and Luke share a middle name, Monroe, in honor of a very special man.
Then Jordan said something that stunned me.
“My daddy’s name was Charles Monroe King,” he told the waitress.
I couldn’t believe it! I had no idea he knew Charles’s full name. Then, as I was getting Jordan ready for bed that evening, he surprised me again. “Mommy, my daddy was very brave,” he said.
I told him that, yes, daddy was very brave and that he was also so very proud of him. “When daddy came home to meet you, he held you like this and gave you so many kisses,” I said, pulling Jordan into my embrace.
Then I recalled that a few weeks earlier his babysitter had told me that a little girl asked him at the children’s museum where his father was and he told her that his daddy lived in heaven with God now, “but he loved me very much.”
I had not realized the extent to which Jordan has been trying to process who his father is and where he fits into his life. But it is clear to me now that he has indeed been trying to make sense of all the things I have told him about his dad, and all that he has heard during dozens of speeches and interviews I have given about my book.
As proud as I am that Jordan is beginning to understand that his father was somehow special, I worry that, in trying to make Charles real to him, I may be making our son long for a fantasy father he will never have. Other times, I think that perhaps Jordan is just so bright that he somehow understands our loss in a way that other kids his age would not. I was never so aware of this than during a conversation we had one evening not long ago in which Jordan seemed to be telling me not to take his feelings for granted.
“Mommy, I miss my daddy,” he said.
“I know, sweetie, I miss him too.’’
Jordan’s reply stunned me silent.
“But you already have a daddy,” he said.
What do you say to that — and to a three-year-old, no less?
Despite all that Charles and I tried to do to provide for Jordan’s needs, and all that we wrote to him to let him know he is loved, there will be times in the days and years ahead when nothing can help our son as he comes to terms with his father’s absence. Jordan will have to do that mostly on his own – in his time, and in his way. As a mother who would protect him with my life, I cannot describe how empty and inadequate that makes me feel. I am also still struggling not to be mad at Charles for leaving the little boy whose life would be perfect if only he had his daddy.
This is not one of those times when I will try to conclude what I am writing with an upbeat, inspiring message. Like everyone, I have my problems and the occasional pity party, and the most sincere thing I can do at times like this is just sit still with my pain — and share it with all of you.

Hi all,
Look how much Jordan has grown over the summer! I hope this picture brings you as much joy as it does me. It was taken at a restaurant in our neighborhood where we often have dinner on the sidewalk cafe. Jordan is becoming such a little New Yorker: he loves riding the subway, eats (veggie) sushi and likes to give the money to taxi drivers for mommy. His personality and independence develop more and more every day. He has opinions about virtually everything and talks nonstop, asking things like where birds go at night and what makes ice cream cold. And he loves to joke around, especially at my expense. He tells me my hair looks “crazy” in the morning and makes a big show of wiping off my kisses and then giggling when I act insulted and give him more. My heart is full of love for this precious gift from God — and from Charles.

Well Folks, here’s some news for you. Jordan wants a baby brother or sister.
Maybe it’s because he has given up on the idea of having a pet (read pet disaster entry below). I’m not sure why, but he keeps asking if we can go to the doctor to get a baby.
His plea both makes me laugh and breaks my heart. I understand him wanting a sibling, which amuses me because, truth be told, there is no way my slightly spoiled child would actually want to share mommy– let alone his toys, books or his beloved baby sitter, Lilian — with a brother or sister if I could actually give him one. But it also breaks my heart every time he asks because I cannot seem to find the words to explain to him why mommy can’t give him a baby. Sure, I could adopt, and I have actually been thinking that maybe I will when Jordan is older, but that is not what he means. For now, I have no answers for him about why we cannot have a baby, just as I struggled the other day when he said “mommy, I want my daddy,” and started crying in my arms. “Can you bring daddy back. Please, please, please,” he asked.
I held him and said that I could not but that we could watch a video of daddy, which we did, as Jordan peered at the screen, transfixed watching his father talking and laughing. It hurts me that I cannot provide Jordan with the ideal family he seems to want, but I am so grateful for the one we have.

Jordan and I were at the beach this weekend on the Jersey Shore in the quirky little town of Ocean Grove. It is an unusual place, a heavily Methodist town but one in which some of the Victorian homes openly fly flags on the porch in support of gays. We love it there.
Anyway, Jordan and I had been splashing in the ocean for much of the afternoon when we decided to catch our breath snuggling on a beach chair. Jordan was just drifting off to sleep when I looked over and saw a boy of about six or seven in a beach accessible wheelchair, his face turned to the sun. His parents were with him and several friends came by to say hello and kiss his cheek. I heard someone call him Timmy.
The boy may have had cerebral palsy, I’m not sure, but he was crippled and did not speak. He could smile though, and what a smile it was.
Suddenly I was so aware of something. I have spent so much time in the past two years feeling sorry for myself for my loss that I had forgotten that the world does not spin around me. Other people are dealing with their own challenges and making the best of it.
Timmy might have had a crippled body, but his spirit was intact. His family had seen to it that he was full of life and laughter.
There was a church revival going on that weekend and hundreds of people lined up on the beach to be baptized in the ocean, a beautiful sight of brown and red and white bodies being cleansed in the sea water. I watched for a while and then Jordan and I took a walk along the water’s edge, the waves lapping at our feet. As we strolled, hand in hand, I said a prayer for Timmy – for his health and happiness and for his safety and longevity. I was never so aware of how blessed I am to have a healthy, lively and quick-witted boy. I thanked God for Jordan’s life.
Then I saw something remarkable, as if God was saying, “‘girl, I got this.”
I looked out into the vast baptismal waters and saw a young boy being dipped into the sea, scared and shaking, but his pale, stiff body also safe in a man’s strong arms. It was Timmy! He had just been baptized. I smiled as I walked past him, people clapping around him and the man — his father I assumed– beaming with pride.
It is amazing how we can get caught up in our own pressures and sorrows and become so self absorbed. Better to focus on our blessings, I think. That is not to say our problems are not real, but so are our joys, if we just keep our heads above the water.
There I was that day, asking God for blessings for Timmy. But Timmy turned out to be a blessing for me. I realized that he would be fine with or without my prayers. He had a loving family and a great little personality. And, just like the rest of us, God has his back. That does not mean that bad things won’t happen. They will and they do. But every day we can find a reason to turn our faces to the sun. Timmy taught me that.