In the entire world, there is no greater love than that of a parent for their child. Ask any parent what could be the "single worst" thing to happen and without exception, they will tell you that nothing could be worse than "losing a child." After the death of a child, some parents become "reclusive and bitter." Other parents' outward appearance may suggest that they are "dealing better" with their loss. In either case, just as a "river" may appear turbulent or placid, there is always a constant "undercurrent". For these parents, their "undercurrent" is the constant "emptiness" in their lives.
The death of our youngest daughter, Alesia Dawn, has now forced my wife, Marsha, and me to join a group that "no parent" wants to be a part. In the minutes, hours, days, weeks and months since Alesia Dawn's death, everything we think, say or do is "tainted" by our loss. There is such a feeling of "hopelessness" and "emptiness" that words can't describe.
On Friday night, September 17, 1999, an "event" happened in our lives that renewed our belief that there is goodness left in the world and that someone does care. This "event" has given us hope, made us smile, brought us tears, but most of all honored the memory of our precious Alesia Dawn.
Valentine's day, 1998, Alesia Dawn, Marsha, our oldest daughter Kristie, me and three others went to see Collin Raye in concert in Kansas City. Toward the end of the concert, Collin Raye threw some towels into the audience. I was fortunate to catch one of them. Alesia Dawn smiled as if she had just been given a million dollars. She carried the towel to the van after the concert and put it on the dresser in her bedroom. In our worst nightmares, we could have never have dreamed how our lives would change five months from this night.
On July 15, 1998, around 10:00 in the evening, Kristie stepped into Alesia Dawn's bedroom to take her picture. Alesia Dawn was lying on her bed, not breathing. Kristie screamed for help. She was pronounced dead within an hour of arriving at the hospital.
We buried Alesia Dawn on July 19th.
For the next five months, Alesia Dawn's room remained just as it was the night she died. A stethoscope lay on the floor as a reminder of what had taken place. We kept her bedroom door shut. Months later, while cleaning her room, I discovered, once again, Alesia's special towel. To anyone else, it was just a white towel, but to me it was a memory to be cherished. I held it in my hand and remembered that night. I folded it neatly and put it in Alesia Dawn's closet.
In July, I found out Collin Raye was going to have a concert in Kansas City. I immediately thought about "the towel." I contacted Raye's manager to see if I could get her towel signed. Finally, at noon, on the day of the concert, I received an e-mail saying that Collin Raye would "love to meet with us and sign our towel." Backstage passes would be available for us at the Will Call window. She also expressed her condolences for "our loss." Surely, Alesia Dawn was looking out for me at that moment.
I made Collin Raye a plate of Rice Krispie Treats. I covered the treats in plastic and taped a wallet size photograph of Alesia Dawn and a Kindness Card on top.
This Random Act of Kindness done in
Loving Memory of our Beautiful Child,
Alesia Dawn Carder
Around 8:00, the three of us were introduced to Collin in a small waiting area. He already knew our situation. He was so kind. I gave him the Rice Krispie Treats and told him "I know it's not carrot cake. He smiled and said, "This is even better."
He wanted to know all about Alesia Dawn. It was very emotional, but there was such a spirit of concern in every word he spoke that told me how genuine his concern was. I told him all about the towel. He signed it: "To Alesia Dawn. You have a sweet family. We'll all see you soon. Collin Raye."
He told us that some people are "just too perfect for this earth."
He hugged each of us and we left to go to the auditorium. With the backstage passes, were three tickets for the third row. Obviously, we didn't need the tickets. I approached a woman waiting outside the main entrance. I asked her if she had tickets to the show. She said yes. I asked her where she was sitting and she dejectedly said, "Way in the back." I said, "I have tickets for the 3rd row" and handed them to her. She said, "You're just GIVING them to me?" I said, "Yes, but there is one other thing". I handed her a Kindness Card and walked away.
He began to play his guitar and much to our surprise, he had attached Alesia Dawn's picture to the head of his guitar. What a gesture! He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He just played and moved the guitar so everyone in the front of the auditorium got a good look at the picture. In the 14-months since Alesia Dawn died, nothing has touched me liked this gesture did.
About halfway into his concert, he sang, "What if Jesus comes back like That." It is a very moving and thought provoking song. When he finished, he said, "Normally we go to another song at this point in the show, but earlier tonight I spoke with a family that suffered a great tragedy about a year ago. I want to dedicate the next song to Alesia."
That song was "Love Remains." Needless to say, it is a beautiful song and now has even more significance for me than it did before. When he finished singing, he pointed upward and said, "For Alesia."
Collin came out for his encore and sang "Love Me." When he finished, he thanked everyone for coming. Everyone stood and applauded.
I cannot put into words how positively the events of that night affected my life. It was a privilege for us to meet Collin Raye that night. Most importantly, the evening was about Collin Raye honoring Alesia Dawn's
memory.
