The King’S Lion … Bound for Home!: A True Story of the Life of Trent Jonah (T.J.) Bolesky

By Trent Bolesky

Trent Jonah (T.J.) Bolesky was a silly goofball, classic prankster, and overall happy kid. From the moment of his birth until the tragic accident that took his life at age sixteen, he lived life with passion and gusto.

No one knew T.J. better than his best friend and father. As he shares the true heartwarming story of his sons journey through life, his father provides a glimpse into T.J.s lively spirit as he chronicles his antics that included teaching himself to growl like the little lion cub in the movie, The Lion King, at just six months, allegedly riding a notorious outlaw rooster like a horse, puffing cigars with his Uncle Andy, and barraging his family with mischievous pranks as a teenager. While commemorating T.J.s short yet joyous life with entertaining anecdotes and insight into his sons earth-shattering premonition, his father illustrates that his son, who shined a bright light until the day he died, was truly one of Gods angels and a kings lion bound for home.

In this true story, a father celebrates the life of his son through joyous and poignant remembrances that serve as a gentle reminder to never take life for granted and always have faith in Gods plan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inspiring Voices
• Release date: Oct 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781462410569

Trent Bolesky

Trent has been married for 19 years and has two teenage daughters. You see him holding a handpainted picture of his son T. J. who died in a car crash in 2010. He works as a Senior Pharmaceutical Sales rep, and loves to teach, ride bikes, attend oldie car shows, and play tennis.

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PRELUDE

This is a book written in honor of my beloved son T. J., who lived an amazing life, and then died in a car accident at the tender age of only sixteen years old. Whether or not anyone ever reads this animated account of his earthly life’s journey is totally inconsequential. Working on this book about my little boy, has been a wonderful source of personal healing and spiritual therapy for me. It helps bring me peace, when I am able to freely write and finally release some of the bottled up emotions of a devastated father who has experienced that worst of any parent’s nightmares. And yet, simultaneously I would state as well, such a grateful daddy and a child of a kind and gentle God. I have been tremendously privileged to have witnessed the greatest of all of the charmed blessings from above in the vast wonderment and awe-inspiring miracle of having a son.

I will openly and honestly admit that I am a silly-hearted goofball in the smiling, contented core of my festive being. You will easily see the random playfulness that emanates from that happy, jolly heart which cheerily flutters and beats to a positive and upbeat tune within my chest and scattered throughout this book of reflections. I playfully write while remembering my son, and then portraying my greatest warm memories of the valued times that I spent skipping and frolicking with my precious little baby boy, who somehow miraculously through his brief years here on earth grew into a stellar young man.

At times you will notice that I love to play on words, string a series of words together that begin with the same consonants, or rhyme for no reason. I apologize if this is not your style; it is meant primarily for my own odd, twisted entertainment. As my wife regularly tells me, You are your own best entertainment; you do not need anyone else, because you make yourself laugh more than anyone else ever could!

I hope to make you laugh along with me, but I will probably also make you cry at times as well, but that is okay, believe me, I still cry many heart-warming trickling teardrops of infinite joy in T. J.’s honor, and in his memory, and I do this very often. If you have experienced the overwhelming, personal challenge and the life-altering misfortune of losing a child, then God bless you.

I truly mean that sincerely … God bless you!

If you choose to read this story of my son, you will no doubt see the vivid, priceless memories that I posses like a solid-gold scrapbook in my mind. I hope that this also causes you to bring back the warm genuine thoughts of your loved ones lost. Bid a welcoming good morning to those echoing yesteryears which wind past us so quickly. So, pull out those faded photographs, and swipe the dust off of your old home movies, and remember the lives captured by them, and the times of those who are recalled within them. Scroll back in your thoughts and relive those sharp, magic moments that you spent with lost friends and loved ones, and in so doing honor the beautiful life that they once lived and the irreplaceable person that they were. Take some quiet, private times to reexamine the fingerprints and the gentle touch of the soft hands, or the footprint impressions that they left when they masterfully marked this world with their physical presence.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but personally, I say that these precious pictures which captured and now hold the magnetic images of those who once walked among us on this earth and then as well have documented a passing moment in time for us to celebrate the legacies of our loved ones who once lived with us, are worth a thousand emotions.

Love, joy, sadness, regrets, laughter and tears all wondrously combining to celebrate a priceless soul which has passed onto heavenly glory.

The first precious memories I have of my son T. J. are all about spending daddy and boy times together with him in the early mornings. He was, even from his birth, the early to bed and early to rise kid, and a true morning person. He would wake up at the crack of dawn, grinning and smiling with his chipper little eyes dancing at the beauty and wonder of each new day. My wife would dutifully take the midnight shifts with him when he would occasionally awaken, and she was never truly a morning person anyways, so this schedule worked out well for the both of us.

The big blockbuster Disney flick that was in theaters and on video at that time when T. J. was a newborn was The Lion King. And so, from those early days with T.J. who was either planted on my lap, or snuggled into my shoulder or chest, we would watch this same movie sprawled out together on the living room couch each and every morning. We did this over and over again, until I could nearly quote each and every line.

Even from his birth if I dare attempted skipping over a morning, or simply tried to pick out another movie to watch in its place, he would get cranky and upset. Although he could not speak actual words, I believe that he was non-verbally communicating. He was telling me that he absolutely would not settle down for the familiar routine of the new day until he had repeated viewing that same movie with me each morning. As he got a little bit older, maybe around a year or so, he had a huge passion for animals. He especially loved dogs and more precisely Golden Retrievers and, therefore, I finally convinced him to expand our limited repertoire of morning entertainment to two movies, and we also began to watch another movie called Homeward Bound.

You may have noticed that the title of this book that I am now writing in T. J.’s honor is a slight variation and unique combination of these two early lifetime events. Ones that we repeated together at the crest of each burning sunrise and at the dawn of each new day, The King’s Lion … Bound for Home!

If I can brag on my only son for just one moment, then I would say that he truly was a servant of the Lord whom he loved, and the King that he steadfastly served. He lived fearlessly with the ferocious heart of a valiant Lion! Who would have known, but for God Himself, that T. J. would be Bound for Home at the tender young age of only sixteen years old.

You will see the many glowing references to these two awesome movies throughout this book. Sometimes overtly, and at other times subtly weaved into the fabric of his story. So, if you have not watched either of them in a while, I would recommend that you may first want to pull them out, and then dust them off, and give them a fresh showing. They are incredibly special movies to me and bring forth a spilling of overflowing emotions. I hope that you once again enjoy them as I know I will. And then hopefully you will as well appreciate this predominantly lighthearted, humorous reflection upon my only son, the life that he lived, and the invaluable times that we spent bonding together.

Some genuine bonds are permanent and they are never broken, not even by death, and I often feel that T. J. is still close to me. Watching, smiling down, cheering for me, and if it’s possible, still throwing the occasional unanticipated prank my way.

So celebrate his brief and brightly animated life with me if you will … T. J. Bolesky … The King’s Lion not only Bound for Home, but currently entertaining a crowd of saints and headlining in heaven’s majestic theater!

46374.png So Hakuna Matata to you my friends – for this means … no worries! 46385.png

CHAPTER 1

T.J.’s Birth –

His First Prank?

I should have suspicioned that from his bizarre beginning, my only son would be a bigger prankster than his dad. Just a few short minutes after he was born, the courteous, highly-skilled nurse brought him into the welcoming hospital room that was filled with excited, anticipatory family and friends to introduce us to our new, bouncing ball of baby joy, and our wondrous gift from God.

The helpful, instructive nurse soon explained that we needed to get him a good, warm bath and clean him up. She suggested that this would be an excellent chance for the youthful, inexperienced, first-time papa to get some necessary practice properly holding him and giving my new son his first thorough cleansing.

When I unwrapped the swaddled blanket that he was warmly nestled into, T. J. had a huge surprise waiting for his new daddy!

As I proudly presented him out in front of me to the jubilant crowd of onlookers there in the hospital room, I exultantly chanted the lyric in my head from, The Circle of Life! T.J. was as naked as a newborn lion cub and facing directly towards me. Smeared across my exhilarated face was the proud ear-to-ear grin of a first-time parent who was totally amazed by the huge, awesome blessing and incredible miracle of new life. It was at this precise moment that T. J. began releasing a stream of urine in the form of a rainbow, straight down the front of me!

I thought, Well I suppose I will just allow him to finish tinkling. How much could a tiny little newborn bladder be holding inside anyways? Boy, was I wrong! It went on and on! His urine flow was more like a mini-fire hydrant, and soon, it covered my shirt and then soaked my chest. Continuing on, it also drained down into my pants, and then spilled down onto my shoes. There I was, a new papa, standing in a puddle of my baby’s first piddle.

I looked at the nurse with a disgusted grimace on my face. She just shrugged and said, "Sorry, I probably should have warned you that during the trauma of child birth, a newborn baby really holds in that first big pee. When they do release, it is usually a lot!"

Oh … do ya think?

I looked at baby T.J.; he simply had the most completely satisfied, goofy look on his impressionable face. Was this his first prank? I don’t know for certain, but from that day forward, he had been a constant goofball, creative prankster, and a funny, silly, happy kid to be around. We used to say all the time that we had honestly never seen or known a happier soul in this whole entire world. We rarely ever found him without a warm smile on his face, and most times, it was accompanied by jubilant laughter as well.

He really was in need of that first bath, now more than ever! So was I, but I felt it would be inappropriate for me to ask the attractive, young nurse to give me a bath as well. Instead, I worked with the nurse to learn the best and securest methods to make sure that T.J. was safely, crisply cleansed, properly powdered, and then dutifully diapered. He was then firmly wrapped into his tidy infant blanket, ready to be held and cuddled by Mommy and Daddy and our other doting family members who were there with us in the hospital room. Just as I was finally feeling the great swelling accomplishment of having competently completed those entire bundles of scrutinized, overseen, first-timer tasks, a stern, painful grimaced look came over T.J.’s crinkled-up face. Next, his whole tiny little body became contorted and then got strangely rigid.

I asked the nurse, What is wrong with him? Why is he contorting like that?

She softly smiled and sweetly cooed at T.J. and then whispered to him in that gushing, high-pitched, baby tone of voice, Baby T.J. is having his first bowel movement! Good boy!

What? We had just finished the tedious process of bathing and diapering him, and now the suddenly annoying nurse was suggesting that once he finished this new business at hand, we then needed to start the lengthy process over again?

With twenty-six hours of grueling labor behind us, a rocky and lengthy transfer from an underequipped birthing facility, to a doctor-approved exception to get into an overfilled hospital and get a room. Then frightfully ending with a rushed, critical, lifesaving emergency c-section when mom and baby went into peril. Doesn’t this nurse know that I have been on an intense, emotional rollercoaster ride? How could she forget that I had been awake for over a day and a half with no sleep?

Child birth is tough on a man!

I heard odd noises now - gurgling and sputtering from baby’s backside. I felt his crisp blanket and freshly administered diaper now vigorously vibrating with the explosive invasion coming from his weensy bowels. Apparently urine was not the only thing that he was really holding in. As he finally finished taking his first poop, I would swear that I saw him smile and then giggle for the first time. The instantly dismissive nurse just rolled her loathing eyes and then blurted out that this was just how infants looked when they are experiencing bad gas pains. Gas? Oh great! Another smelly bodily function to look forward to with this kid? To this day, I still think it was a smile and a giggle; - I don’t care what that crusty old nurse said!

With all of the newness and wonderment of those first- time events, I was totally unprepared for the shock of what came next. As I slowly and cautiously removed that first soiled diaper, what I witnessed is often talked about in the wiles of the Bolesky family legends, even unto this day! It still amazes me even now! That first miniature diaper was thoroughly filled with the biggest mess that you have ever seen in your life! It appeared like thick black molasses. I knew that this could not be normal. Could it?

Amazed by this quirky phenomenon, I then took the tiny diaper all filled with the black goo and I began a whirlwind tour around the room. I then went into the hallways, showing it off to everyone within sight.

I passionately prompted the onlookers, Look! Look! Look at T.J.’s poop! What unbelievably unique fecal material! Have you ever seen anything like it in your whole life?

Patient friends and entertained family who already knew that this was totally normal for an infant’s first poo, politely smiled and then played along with my naïve excitement for this mysterious-looking doo doo. The scolding snotty nurse suddenly appeared and got up into my personal space. She was now forcefully lecturing me about appropriate poop etiquette. She then curtly demanded to have the dirty diaper to do a proper disposing of it so as to not risk contaminating the sterile room. I just laughed and then told her that I wanted to preserve it and then treasure it as a keepsake of baby’s first poop. Everyone in the room chuckled; however, Nurse Ratched was not entertained!

Yes, my carefree son T. J. was a classic prankster. Those who were close to him had to be always on their guard from the constant barrage of his mildly mischievous, masterminded attempts to pull one over on us. Even worse, I am not sure that he ever truly found firm control of those smelly bodily functions, although they almost always seemed to strategically appear at exact moments when his bubbling, burping, biscuits were unfortunately rumbling and ripping near your flinching face 46391.png !

I can still hear the echoes of his mother’s voice around the house, "Oh, T. J.! How many times have I told you … not in my face!" as loud, boisterous, celebratory laughter and cheers came from the rest of our applauding clan. This gave T. J. (or should I call him Pumba) some