My Missing Piece

By Kim Kortze

My Missing Piece is a comprehensive book based on nine years of research on death, grief, and survival toward a new normal. The author discusses life, why we fear death, how children die, and where we go when we die based on the Bible, science, and mediums. She shares the physical, emotional, psychological, and spiritual impact on our health and lives, as well as the variables that affect how we grieve. The author details how grief affects partners, siblings, marriages, careers, and relationships with friends and family.

She delves into the religious and spiritual upheaval that can occur after a loss as well as the unanswerable question--why? The author provides signs sent from our children to provide us with peace and comfort, along with information on where to get help while struggling through grief. She provides a list of the most insensitive statements made to bereaved parents by those trying to provide comfort.

Finally this book is not only a personal perspective of grief but one based on stories by many suffering families. The author's goal was to illustrate that we are not alone in our grief; we all grieve differently, and we can all survive this atrocity and be a lifeline to others in need.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887630380

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Introduction

Life

Death

Grief

Living with Grief

Dealing with the Effects of Grief

Siblings and Grief

What Not to Say to a Grieving Parent

Why Me? Why Not Me?

Religion, Spirituality, and God

Holidays and Other Special Dates

Signs from Our Children

Setting Up Groups

Moving Toward a New Normal

Suggested Reading Materials

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My Missing Piece

Kim Kortze

Copyright © 2023 Kim Kortze

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88763-037-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88763-038-0 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To Al and Aubrey, who struggled on this journey with me, and to our son, Joshua, who brought so much love and joy into our lives for almost twenty-five years.

Introduction

Why Is the Book Named My Missing Piece?

A puzzle is made up of numerous pieces of different shapes and sizes. When it is put together, all the pieces form a picture of something special and unique. Our family puzzle has a heart and is composed of names of all those special people in our lives. Each one is an important piece that interlocks with another and is necessary in making the family complete, happy, and functioning. There was once four pieces in our part of the heart, and now, there are three. For anyone who has taken the time to put together a puzzle, you understand the importance of each piece. The ones with edges make the structure or frame of the puzzle; the ones with irregular shapes make up the center. If one piece is missing, the puzzle is never complete, and the person constructing it is frustrated and never happy. That one missing piece was critical to the entire puzzle. Josh is our missing piece, part of our heart, our soul, and our life; connected to our family for all eternity. All of life changed when he took his last breath without us; and our life will never again be complete, like the missing puzzle piece.

Grief is like a jigsaw puzzle. Some people get all the edge pieces together first and work from the outside in. Others dump everything out on the table at once and dive right into the middle. Some never even open the box at all. They just look at the picture on the lid and wonder why what's inside the box doesn't match or make sense. You meet a lot of people when you start a jigsaw puzzle. Some are full of advice, or they may try to make the puzzle look the way it ought to be instead of the way it is. But, once in a while, you meet someone who shares their finished puzzle and it helps you to make some sense of yours. Then you find it is not as hard as before. Some of the pieces fit together more easily, and you sigh with relief and remember. (Unknown)

Why Am I Writing This Book?

This book has taken me ten years to complete because it documents my journey over time. It initially started as a journal of my emotions and thoughts for my own sanity after my son passed away. It migrated into a memory book of my journey. Eventually it turned into an exercise meant to help me and other bereaved parents. I am writing this book to provide not only my perspective on the loss of my son, but that of many other mothers, fathers, and siblings. Through my research, I share how we all grieve differently and how grief changes over time. Even though our world stopped at the moment our child passed away, while the rest of the world continued as if nothing significant happened, I want to provide readers with hope that they will survive this difficult loss. Eventually we can all join the human race again, but it is an individual choice, and we are all changed forever.

Who Is the Audience for This Book?

The audience for this book is grieving parents, siblings, along with family and friends trying to understand the unthinkable nightmare parents and siblings are experiencing. I will share many different viewpoints, perspectives, and theories from my own in order to be a responsible writer. I do not expect everyone to accept or believe all the information provided, but I hope to generate thought, consideration, and tolerance for a variety of ideas and topics.

Josh's Obituary

Joshua A. Kortze, 24, of Nazareth, died January 27, 2013 in St. Luke's Hospital, Fountain Hill. He was born February 20, 1988 in Allentown, a son of Al and Kim (Wintergrass) Kortze of Nazareth. Josh graduated from Nazareth High School in 2006. He attended Kutztown University and earned his BA in Political Science and a minor in Marine Biology in 2010, a Master's Degree in Political Science from Lehigh University in 2011, and was enrolled in a PhD program in Political Science at SUNY Binghamton NY. Following graduation from his Master's program, he traveled to China and taught English for one year at Xiangtan University.

Josh loved music and was proficient at many instruments including the bass, upright bass, drums, and guitar. He performed in several bands in high school (Vegan Potluck), college, and while in China. Josh loved to attend concerts, paint, draw, read and write stories. He was especially interested in various political regimes, African and Chinese studies, American culture, and sharks. Josh also loved ice hockey and soccer. He played goalie for ice hockey at Kutztown and Lehigh. In China he played goalie on an international soccer team at the university where he taught English. Josh loved to travel and had visited Honduras and Roatan with his Marine Biology class, Mexico, Taiwan, and the Netherlands with his Model UN class at Kutztown, Australia, and New Zealand with People to People for soccer, and Scotland with his dad after his high school graduation. Josh was scuba certified, enjoyed skiing, parasailing, and hiking. In 2004, he hiked close to 100 miles in Philmont Boy Scout Camp in New Mexico.

Josh had a great sense of humor, a vast vocabulary and an extensive knowledge of foreign affairs, politics, geography and culture, history, music, and sports. Josh will be lovingly remembered for his wit, wisdom, his good nature, and compassion for others. He was known by his friends as helping the underdog. He was a fan of the Steelers football team, the Penguins ice hockey team, and the Pirates baseball team because his father was originally from Pittsburgh. He also watched Penn State and Pittsburgh college football, because his parents went to Penn State and his sister went to the University of Pittsburgh.

Life

Life is like a mist, here for a moment, then gone.

—James 4:14

The best things in life are the people we love, the places we have been, and the memories we've made along the way.

—Unknown

When we chose to be parents, there will be another person on this earth whose orbit around us will affect us as surely as the moon affects the tides, and affect us in some ways more deeply than anyone else can. Our children are extensions of ourselves.

—Fred Rogers

In life there are no true comfort zones. Life comes at us in ways that we can't predict or control.

—Robin Roberts

Did you ever hear it said that life is not a sprint but a marathon? Too many people worry about the future or try to bypass the present and never enjoy the journey through life. As one of those people, I am always in a hurry to get things done. I make a daily list of what I need to accomplish, and cross each item off the list when it is completed. If I can't get it done in that day, I am disappointed in myself. Being a professed type-A control freak is a behavior learned or inherited from my dad. My dad was an industrial engineer, a Marine, and the most disciplined, organized, ethical, and regimented person I ever knew. When he had a stroke in September 2002, I helplessly watched him lose control over everything in his life. He could no longer walk, talk, or use his legs or right arm. The stroke irreversibly damaged my dad for the remaining five years on this earth. He no longer controlled anything in his life; he was at the mercy of those caring for him. In 2013, I would learn, like my dad did, I control little in my life.

Believing that I was a control freak, I determined I would have at least two children: a boy first, who I'd name Joshua, and then a girl, Ashley, which eventually I changed to Aubrey. My husband and I discussed starting a family in January of 1987. I decided that since we had been married four years, it was time to start trying for our children. Who knew how long it would take for me to conceive? After all, my sister had problems conceiving her first two; so I worried that I might also have issues.

On our anniversary in June, I showed my husband the store-bought pregnancy test that had a plus sign in the window. That indicated I was pregnant. My husband laughed it off and said, I won't believe it until the doctor says the rabbit died. An old-time method for pregnancy test, or so I have been told. When the doctor confirmed my results with a similar test like the store-bought one, my husband seemed surprised, nervous, but happy simultaneously.

My pregnancy was more eventful and problematic than I expected. Multiple tests and ultrasounds were necessary to track my progress and ensure all issues were being monitored and addressed by my doctor. When the last ultrasound was over in December, I became very depressed because I knew that I would not see my son again until February when he was born. That seemed like an eternity.

On February 19, 1988, I had taken the day off from work because I had severe back pain. It was also my husband's twenty-eighth birthday when my labor started with Joshua. He called me from work around 11:00 a.m. and heard the distress in my voice. He immediately left work early to come home and keep me company. Once at home, Al calmly unpacked his briefcase and spread a lot of paperwork on the dining room table. He made himself a steak sandwich, which smelled delicious, but didn't offer to share it because once in labor, you were not supposed to eat.

From our childbirth classes, he knew it could be many hours before I gave birth with our first child, so he appeared relaxed, at least in my presence. Joshua arrived about twenty-three hours after the start of my difficult labor. I should have known he would be laid back like his dad. Joshua was born around 9:00 a.m., Saturday, February 20, weighing in at 8 pounds, 11 ounces, and 21.5 inches long. Since there were only two babies born in the hospital that day, and one was a different nationality, it was easy to determine which baby was ours (fair-skinned, chubby, and bald). What a birthday gift for my husband that would eventually bring him sorrow. We left the hospital Monday to start our new life together.

Two years later, Aubrey, my daughter, joined our family. I now had the all-American family, exactly how I had planned it. My pregnancy with her was totally normal, and she was born a week before Christmas. What a Christmas present for our family. Our lives happily changed forever, so I thought.

As a mother, we carry and nourish our babies throughout pregnancy. We are emotionally and physically connected from conception. An umbilical cord connects us for nine months, and then an invisible one connects them to us for life. They deform our bodies, which are forever changed, even after their painful birth. Yet many of us do it again and again for the prize at the end. We would sacrifice our life for them, no questions asked. We love them unconditionally forever.

As parents, we hopefully are handed this beautiful gift, a perfect specimen at birth, with ten fingers and toes. We anticipate the baby's birth with showers and gender reveal parties. At home, we prepare their nursery with a crib, paint their room, buy clothes, diapers, formula, toys, and other necessities. Our goal, once we leave the hospital, is to protect our children and to ensure a safe, happy, and healthy environment for them to grow and develop into responsible human beings. We are solely responsible for all their physical, spiritual, mental (psychological/emotional) needs and development. Regularly we visit the pediatrician for physicals, growth measurements, and preventative shots for common childhood diseases. We even go so far as insisting that grandparents and guests wear a blue gown in the hospital, have flu shots, whooping cough vaccinations, and wash their hands before holding our precious bundle of joy.

We research preschools, online schools, private and public schools, and charter schools in order for our child to achieve the greatest success in life. As our child enters school, we worry about their self-esteem, and we are vigilant against bullying on social media, which reaches more people than when we were bullied in the schoolyard. As helicopter parents, we monitor their schoolwork and teachers, their school and home food for healthy choices, and their friends for positive interactions. We enroll all their free hours with activities to keep them physically and mentally fit and to learn teamwork. Our belief is a busy child is a good child, and if we control their environment, it will keep them safe.

Death

Losing a child is the singular most devastating passage anyone will endure during a lifetime.

—Dr. Abigale Brenner, Psychology Today

Dead people receive more flowers than living people because regret is stronger than gratitude.

—Anne Frank

Death takes our body, while God takes our soul. Our mind holds the memories and our heart holds the love. Our faith lets us know that we will meet again.

—Kelly's Treehouse

Death leaves heartache no one can heal. Love provides memories no one can steal.

—From an Irish headstone

And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.

—Abraham Lincoln

It's not the quantity of your days here, but the quality.

—William Ellery Channing

It's not the number of breathes you take but the moments that take your breath away.

—Maya Angelou

As parents we shed tears of joy when our child is born and tears of sorrow when they die.

—Unknown

The reason death hurts so much when we are separated is because our souls are connected.

—Nicholas Sparks

The only thing that you take with you when you die is the love you hold inside you.

—Patrick Swayze

As a bereaved parent, it saddens me because althrough we knew what our child was like when they were here, we will never know who they would have become as they grew up.

—Unknown

As I lay in bed upstairs, feeling ill, I heard Josh, Aubrey, and Al laughing downstairs on a cold January, Friday night. It was our weekly family pizza night. This tradition started when the kids were in elementary school, but the wine was added once they were twenty-one. It was a time to unwind, reconnect, share stories, feelings, news, something funny or sad. We'd order two pizzas from our favorite restaurant every week: one cheese for our vegetarian son, and one was half pepperoni and half mushroom for the rest of us.

The next morning at breakfast, I asked, What was everyone laughing about last night?

Josh told me that the Style magazine had arrived, and it was the wedding issue. Aubrey showed Josh a picture of his ex-girlfriend, whose wedding was documented in the magazine. Since it was not a friendly breakup, he ripped the photos and article out of the magazine and shared it with our new puppy, Miles. Miles loved to shred magazines and newspapers. In seconds, the pages were gone, just like she was from his life.

On Saturday, I was still feeling under the weather but tried to move around more. I had purchased tickets to a chocolate event that evening in Easton. I had promised to take Aubrey but asked Josh to replace me at the event; however, he had plans to meet his friends for dinner. Joe was an aspiring politician, and Mark was a political science major, now working at a small company. Mark had just moved back from California and was anxious to see Joe and Josh. They all met at Kutztown University in the Model United Nations (MUN) Club years ago. Joe and Mark were older than Josh by a few years, but their friendship endured long after graduation.

Before I left for my event, and Josh left for dinner with his friends, he was excited to share some music he recorded with Al and me. Josh was proficient at the bass, guitar, and drums. He had recorded three tracks of music he composed and hoped to add a fourth track with lyrics he had written, in the future. In high school, he played the upright bass in the orchestra, but it was too big to bring home and practice on. Otherwise that instrument would also fill our basement. We were always impressed by his work and told him so.

Aubrey and I left for our event in the early evening and had a wonderful time consuming chocolate drinks, cupcakes, candies, puddings, lollipops, and wine. By the time we left the event, we didn't want anything chocolate for a long time, despite the fact that the Kortze household was known for being chocoholics. Al, Aubrey, and I headed to bed around 11:00 p.m.

Josh went out around 8:00 p.m. with Mark; Joe was no longer able to join them. They went out to dinner and then met up with some other friends at a bar near Lehigh University, where Josh earned his master's degree in political science. Josh enjoyed having an extended period of time at home after Christmas because he got to reconnect with many old friends.

At 2:30 a.m., Sunday morning, I woke up to go to the bathroom, a common ritual. I checked to make sure that Josh's car was safely parked in the driveway. He usually returned from his outings by 1:00 a.m. at the latest. To my surprise, his car wasn't there. As an overprotective mom, I texted him and continued texting every fifteen minutes:

Are you on your way home? You have to get up early to pack for school.

He was supposed to return to Binghamton University on Sunday afternoon, because his PhD courses resumed for the next semester on Monday. I did not hear back from him until 3:17 a.m., which was unusual because he typically responded within minutes. However, all that I got was his phone number in the text screen. I began to worry and sent him another text at 3:22 a.m. and repeated my first message.

At 3:33 a.m., he responded, Yes. Then at 3:35 a.m. the accident that would change our lives forever occurred. Now I wished I would have embarrassed him in front of his friends by calling him excessively instead of texting. Had I only known he was driving, I would not have texted him.

The police arrived at our front door at 4:00 a.m. and said that there had been an accident, and my son was in the hospital. Their final words were, He is in good hands. Please do not drive crazy to get there. Police tend to downplay accidents so people don't panic, which I understand.

So that was the response I received when I asked them if Josh was alive (in their defense, they did not know his status at the time). My old boss, Brenda, shared with me that when her two boys were in their twenties, she always worried about them. A friend of hers said, Why do you stay up waiting for them every night? If something happens, the police will let you know. That's what went through my mind in that moment.

Al and I immediately changed from our pajamas to jeans and T-shirts, got our coats on, jumped into the car, and rushed to the hospital. We made it there in record time, despite the warning from the police. It is never good news when the police come to your home in the early hours of the morning, well past the time your child should have been home, sleeping.

On the drive to the hospital, we didn't talk, but my mind was racing around: How bad are his injuries? Did he total his car (he was supposed to drive back to college in a few hours)? Did he have any passengers in the car, and if so, were they hurt? Did he hit and hurt someone else? We were definitely not prepared for what happened next. Nowhere in our thoughts was death an option.

When we arrived at the hospital, the receptionist escorted us to a special room. Al and I glanced at each other and knew this could not be good. Soon the doctor, a priest, the coroner, and an EMT entered the room. The coroner showed Al a picture of the tattoo on Josh's shoulder.

Is this your son?

Al said, Yes, why? Where is he?

We never ever anticipated the words that followed, I am sorry, but your son is gone. He suffered severe blunt-force trauma to his head, and we could not resuscitate him.

It seemed like the words came out in slow motion and were muffled. Those words still echo in my ears.

I yelled, No!

Then I fell to the floor in a fetal position and cried hysterically. I thought that I'd stay in that position forever. Al dropped onto the floor and wrapped his arms around me, where we sobbed uncontrollably for a long time. I was in disbelief and kept saying, I need to see my son, it can't be him. They refused repeatedly, claiming it was because of his injuries.

I don't know how long we stayed there, but I know that the tears did not stop for a long time. (I am crying as I type these words and remember that evening.) How could this happen? I just got a text from him at 3:33 a.m., and he was alive. I couldn't comprehend the reality of the situation and repeatedly asked to see my son. I knew if I saw him, it would be a mistaken identity. That didn't happen.

We drove home in silence; what was there to say? Our hearts were shattered into a million pieces. I didn't say broken because broken implies it can be fixed. I felt like I was in someone else's body, and this was a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. It couldn't be happening to me, to us. I was numb, in shock. At 5:30 a.m., I opened the door from the garage to the kitchen and saw my daughter on the couch with our dogs.

Once our daughter saw us, she asked, What happened? Where is Josh?

She said the phone rang at around 4:00 a.m. (when Josh passed), and since no one was answering it, she ran downstairs and answered it. It was just static. She immediately ran upstairs looking for us and then, in a panic, ran to the garage to see our car was missing. Our daughter then looked for Josh's car in the driveway; it was also missing.

We whispered with tears in our eyes, I'm sorry, he didn't make it.

Josh was never coming home again; we didn't believe it ourselves as the words left our mouths. He was her best friend; they were like twins, only twenty-two months apart. Our hearts broke for her loss as much as ours. We all held one another on the couch and cried until there was nothing left. From that point on, life became a blur. We went through the motions, confused, numb, on autopilot (eventually guided by my sister) as our life changed forever.

The Reality of Death

Death does not discriminate against the young or old, rich or poor, political or religious affiliation, gender, or ethnicity; it is a universal and solitary experience. We will all die eventually; the questions are when, where, and how. Age doesn't matter, someone dies every minute in this world; the rest of us just wait in line for our turn. We don't know where we are in the line to exit this world; we can't change our position in the line or avoid death, but we can make every minute count. A professor I once knew said, Every day you are alive is one day closer you are to death.

One day we all will depart on a journey free of cost. Our seats are reserved and our reservations confirmed. The flight is always on time, there are never any delays. Our deeds will be our baggage that we have packed throughout our lives. Kindness and humanity will be our passport and love will be our visa. Make sure we do our best in life so we can all travel to heaven in first class. (Unknown)

As bereaved parents, we feel alone in the loss of our child and wonder why God took them instead of us. However, the death of a child is more common than we realize. Notable politicians, actors, musicians, sports figures, and other wealthy people weren't able to save their children from passing away either. For example, the Kennedys lost their sons John F. Kennedy (president) and Robert F. Kennedy through assassination. John's son John F. Kennedy Jr. died in a plane crash. Eric Clapton wrote Tears in Heaven for his son, Connor, who fell from a window. Other famous people who lost children are John Travolta (Jett), Marie Osmond (Michael), Sylvester Stallone (Sage), Keanu Reeves (Ava), Mary Tyler Moore (Richard), Jerry Lewis (Joseph), Marlon Brando (Cheyenne), Barbara Eden (Matthew), Loretta Lynn (Jack and Sue), Carol Burnett (Carrie), Prince (Gregory), Vanessa Bryant (Gianna), John Legend and Chrissy Teigen (Jack), President George H. W. Bush and Barbara Bush (Robin), Joseph Biden (Naomi and Beau), Cristiano Ronaldo (son), Toby Mac (Truett), Priscilla Presley (Lisa Marie), Lisa Marie Presley (Ben), and Michelle Obama, Carrie Underwood, Shawn Johnson, Chrissy Teigen, and Beyoncé who all suffered miscarriages.

According to UNICEF data, in 2020, 5 million children worldwide died between birth and under five years of age, while 2.2 million dies between five to twenty-four years of age. The World Health Organization and the Center for Disease Control states that the main cause of death for teens and young adults is attributed to accidents (unintentional), homicide (guns are now the number 1 cause of death for US kids according to Journal of Medicine (2022), suicide, cancer, and heart disease. Unintentional accidents include: car accidents, poisoning (drug/alcohol), falls, suffocation (ingestion or inhalation), drowning, fire, heat or cold exposure. Younger children tend to pass from SIDs or home injuries like home accidents, drowning, and disease. Death due to medical error is also quite high according to a study by John Hopkins, but it is not broken out by age and not investigated as much as it should be (250,000 deaths per year, more than wars, guns, or drugs). Additionally according