Can't Get Next To You - Ian in the era of social distancing

Ian,

As I sit working, amid continued social distancing, and contemplate what the world will look like as we begin to re-open our economy, I cannot help but think what a difficult time you would be having with all of ... this! The old Temptations' song says it all - you would be driven crazy because you "can't get next to you" - well, anyone - right now.

When defining your social behavior type, everyone would agree that you were extremely extroverted, demonstrably affectionate and a constant join'er in'er. You were okay to spend time alone - but drew energy from, and were the initiator or nucleus of group interactions. The group could just be one other person - or it could be a room full. What mattered for you was the quality and quantity of interpersonal engagement that occurred. To use mom's terms - you were immediate in all your relationships. Engaged, involved and bent on understanding.

You did many things "for" people (we all have memories and stories of your generosity) - but your focus was how to be "with" people in the doing. The "doing" was always contextualized in the "being." I see your focus on "with" instead of "for" extended from people to God as well. You did not serve, worship, read, or pray to just do things for him - it was to be with Him, experience Him and enjoy Him.

Your bent goes further than just the interaction and conversation - it extends to the physicality of "with." You were raised in an affectionate family. Hugs, kisses on the lips - even after high school - were common between you kids, Mom and I, and between you kids. It stuck out. At TAMU Gateway registration - you greeted me with a hug and a kiss. I headed home with a hug and a kiss. Most parents got a hand shake or a brief hug. Your hugs were not brief, not a chest bump, but a full bear hug. More often, they were a running bear hug - more or less like a safety tackling a would-be receiver. Chest to chest, cheek to hair, swaying back and forth - often, you picking me up. It was not just the immediate family - it was other family members, your friends - even people you just met. Acceptance and physical touch were one and the same for you.

I can only imagine how unproductive you would be working alone in and apart! You probably would be dropping by to bug neighbors to borrow things, drop off food or check on them. I imagine you would know all your neighbors and text them to come to a social distancing BBQ or get together of some type. I know we would caution you about such interactions, but you would talk about the value of people being worth the risk. You would struggle not to shake hands, hug or sit in someone's lap. It would kill you to be "so close" - "yet so far..."

How do I know this?

I remember you growing up. You were always sitting with your friends, bumping into them, pushing on them, welcoming them with a bear hug. From the time you got into your "big boy" bed, you would get out and sleep with Caylea or Danny to be "with" them. I remember coming into your rooms in Maryland, in California, and finding you and Caylea together sleeping - or sleeping together on Danny's bottom double bunk, or cuddled together - the three of you - sleeping on the floor after a movie. In Austin, it was often one on a couch and two of you on the floor - but all wrapped in blankets and often still touching in sleep.

If you guys were playing games in the garage in Vacaville, with Taylor there or not, folding the futon down to a bed was the natural late night thing. Each of you would get your blanket, curl up and play video games till you all fell asleep overlapping each other on the futon. Those were amazing Saturday and Sunday mornings to see you, Caylea, Danny and a friend or two, draped over each other and sleeping. There was always a lot of love in our house.

Our houses were always full of kids - if it was not Danny hosting a video game LAN party, it was you hosting a swimming or trampoline party, or Caylea having friends over to play or cook. The pool, game room, the basketball goal, the TV, your room, the guitars - anything was a reason to get 2-15 kids over and be "with." Each weekend in California and Austin, our house was full of your friends. I remember the pool was full of boys and girls when you and Caylea had "moving parties" as we prepared to come to Austin. Kids were everywhere, in the game room, the living room or the pool. Boys coming by and picking up grilled asparagus and burgers and eating. Yes, I said grilled asparagus - it is amazing... Everyone being with each other.

As you got older, you spent more time in smaller groups to play guitars, talk or hang out. But larger groups still came over to play basketball, participate in dunk contests, skateboarding or pick up frisbee games. One time, MJ&PG came to visit and you were in your skateboarder phase. You found a board shop on - 12th street - down from the main Austin Community College campus. After a friend-filled afternoon, we headed to the shop and you looked for parts for your board, but you found your first beanie there. MJ&PG bought it for you. Even as a junior higher, trying to establish independence, a bit awkward and as a skateboard dude - you gave MJ&PG each a big hug making their visit complete.

I still remember a sleepover at our house when you were in High School. You guys came over to watch scary movies. Marielle introduced you to horror flicks - I am not sure if you ever really liked them or just made a deal to watch with her. You guys said you were watching the "scariest movie of all time" and we said - "good luck with that!" Mom and I headed to bed and you guys were on the couches starting the movie. I forgot the actual title, but when we came in the next morning - all the living room was re-arranged. Pillows and blankets formed a ring around where you all slept - several almost-adult men - huddled together encircled by pillows asleep. The story we learned later was that the movie freaked you all out so much - that when someone needed to go to the bathroom, you all huddled together to "go with" the person to the bathroom. You would deposit the guy in the bathroom, the group waited right outside - and the person emerged (we hope they washed their hands). The huddle reformed and returned to the living room. Only as a group was the movie restarted. Mom and I guessed the pillow and blanket border was to keep the evil out!

At Texas A&M, you were known for your demonstrative affection and big smile. How you would have struggled to wear a mask and not see others facial expressions in a grocery store, walking down a street or at school. That is what we will no doubt be doing when our "shelter apart" rules are lifted. You loved making people laugh and bringing them joy. You needed that visual feedback - feedback blocked by a mask. Moreover, we would miss seeing your face explode into one of those patented smiles. With social distancing, you could not embrace others and lift them up in a greeting or see their smile if they had a mask. Yes, this time, these rules would be a definite challenge for you.

It is not just me remembering your demonstrable, physical and vocal ways. Friends would write:

As I read over what other people said, it seems like we all agreed, you were GENUINELY loving and caring, it was just of your nature. I thank you for giving me the privilege of being one of your friends, I'm going to miss your sweaty bear hugs in the gym, you know I love you, buddy, take care for you're in a much, much, better place now, until next time... 

Ian used to work at the Starbucks next to my church. I eventually found out his schedule and would go get coffee just because I knew I would see him there. Almost every time he was working he would see me, walk around the counter, and give me a big hug. 

I remember the "taking out the trash" video where you and Brenden instigated jumping over trashcans. It is the joy, the smile, the exclamation that communicates how much you loved being with people - and people with you.

It was not just who you wanted to be "with" people - it was where you would get together. Always it was places surrounded by people:

• Zilker Park and Mt. Bonnell - playing ultimate, entertaining with a band, hiking with friends, running with dogs.
• At the movies, packed at Alamo Drafthouse or another theater. We just rewatched the Avengers and remembered that your favorite scene was the shawarma the team ate after the credits. You loved how Bruce Banner (aka the Hulk) was pounding the fries.
• Concerts at Stubbs, Emo's and other places you would watch or play with Little Emily Warfield.
• Restaurants - McD's, Chick-fil-a, Lupe's or a chicken strip place.
• Sports - watching UT or TAMU football, basketball or playing at parks, working out in the Rec, or shooting hoops in a gym.
• Church - the Stone full of people, singing at the top of their lungs, hands raised high.

Each provided ample opportunity for sharing way too much common air, breath, sweat, and other body fluids. Social distancing would drive you crazy!!

After going Home, your friends shared love "with" our family in the demonstrable, physical and vocal ways. Over 50 joined us at TAMU Muster - shouting "Here!" louder than any other group then hugging and loving us from the gym to Double Dave's pizza. Over 100 friends came to our house before your Going Home service to donate hair, play guitars, sing, and sleep over one last time.

 About that time, Taylor would say:

I've hugged and been hugged more this last two days than I have the rest of this year

Hundreds came to your service to love and encourage us. Then 5, 10 or 20 would come to our house, meet us, love us in Austin or meet us to "pond hop" or eat in College Station. Still, one or two friends drop by the house when in town to love us, to hug us, to exchange Ian stories "with" us. I guess even Facebook is a place where they meet us and share love, stories and memories.

Your extremely extroverted, demonstrably affectionate and a constant join'er in'er character rubbed off on your friends for sure. They have supported us throughout this incredible 7 year odyssey - a trip Mom, Caylea, Danny, MJ&PG, me - all our family and all your friends - never wanted to take. A trip of years without you. As Mom said on Facebook,

I selfishly thought I am being smothered with comfort with food, texts, fb posts, calls, visits, prayers, you name it. The one comfort I want most is what is causing me to mourn ‐‑ the comfort of hearing my son's voice, seeing his smile again, hugging him tight. 

This is how I put it in a post:

I remember your smile, the giggly laugh, bear hugs and your smell, scratchy beard, kisses good morning and goodbye, the “I love you” in texts, on the phone or as we left each other. I remember you waking me up, standing over me as I slept, saying “Dad, I’m home!” (How I long to hear that again!) I replay the jabbering conversations, silly topics, the passions for the present and future, the arguing over values and actions as well as the celebrating of each other. 

Yes, we miss that extremely extroverted, demonstrably affectionate and constant join'er in'er person more than words can say. But I see you were much like your King, who was all about people joining "with" Him. In some of Jesus' last words to His disciples, He takes them from despair to unshakable hope.

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. John 14:1-3

It was not enough for Him to be God, He had to come and conquer sin and death for us. But "for" was not enough - He Himself is preparing a place to be "with" us. He will come get us to be "with" Him always. The hope for resurrection is so powerful for there is much "with" yet to experience. To meet you again, see your smile again, bear hug you again - to worship together again. I am DONE with this social distancing from you and Jesus! I am ready for reunion and renewal. We have so much to share with each other - I know!

It has been way too long Ian. I cannot believe it has been seven years. It feels like a lifetime ago, but seems like only yesterday. I miss you so much. But in the midst of missing and longing to be "with" you again, I am thankful for my extremely extroverted, demonstrably affectionate and constant join'er in'er son.

Love,

Dad