The boys were my son, Ryan Aud, and my nephew, Scott Rhodes.

Scotty was a blonde haired, handsome young man with sensitive eyes. He was different than most young men his age. Even as a little boy he was different, so sweet and so precious. People were immediately drawn to him, not just because of his endearing looks but because he was so affectionate, so loving. He grew up surrounded by love and as a result he was very kind and loving to everyone. He was always so thoughtful. In school, he was very popular, yet he was a friend to other kids from all walks of life, not just the other popular kids. In high school, he had a crush on a beautiful girl two years older then him and eventually she fell in love with him too. I am so grateful that he realized his dream, that he experienced the love of his life. He was a lifeguard during the summer when he was in high school and he always had a beautiful tan. He was a beautiful swimmer; his stroke was so graceful. He taught swim lessons and was so good with young children and older people. He was in his second year of college and sometimes worked two jobs. He was a wonderful uncle to his niece, Taylor Rachelle.

Ryan was 21 years old when he died. I remember the day he was born. I wanted a son so desperately that I dare not say the words aloud for fear I wouldn’t get what I wanted. I thanked the doctor so sincerely as if he were somehow responsible for giving me a son. Ryan was a sweet baby. As a young boy he was so inquisitive. He was never pretentious, never phony. He was not judgmental. He had a soft place in his heart for the underdog. More than once he brought home a friend whom needed a place to live or just needed to be with a family. He worked hard, even as a child with a paper route. Later, he impressed me when he went to school to earn a certificate in aviation electronics, at the same time working a full time job and raising a family. He was mostly a homebody. He was not materialistic; most of his belongings were gifts from caring relatives. His sister was his best friend. He liked to be unique. He searched a long time for just the right names for his two children, Zane and Mazey. He put his children first and never complained even though it must have been hard raising them alone. He took them everywhere with him, to the grocery store or Wal-Mart. He didn’t have money for fancy restaurants or movies but he would treat the kids with a walk to the park and on special occasions he would take them to the zoo or the science center. I know that sometimes during the last year of his life he was sad about the break up of his marriage and he must have been so lonely. I feel so bad about that now.

Over 800 friends and family attended the visitation and the funeral. The support and compassion received from people was overwhelming and so much appreciated. The boys were buried side by side with matching gravestones. I have always felt they are together in heaven.

In the months that followed, I began to understand how different life was to be. No holiday or birthday would ever be celebrated again without the reminder of Scott and Ryan’s absence. I searched unsuccessfully for answers, learning that I am never to understand

I felt so sorry for all our family members who were trying so desperately to comfort when their own pain was so overwhelming. I felt so sorry for my mama who lost two grandsons that day but mostly because I knew the pain of watching two of her daughters suffer such a tremendous loss would be unbearable. My heart ached for Ryan and Scotty’s sisters. That day and in the months to follow they put their own grief aside in an attempt to help their parents. Both girls lost their only brother; both girls lost their best friend.

I have learned that everyone handles grief differently.

Sometimes I laugh. But on the tail end of every laugh is a voice in my head that says how can you think of laughing, your baby is dead. Every gathering of people is a gathering without Scott and Ryan. Every seemingly joyous moment is tainted with pain. Memories are like life preservers to me and I cling to them. So many people have tried to be supportive and bring comfort. I am so grateful to them. I truly appreciate those who write a memory of our boys to be placed in their memory books. Mostly I appreciate those who continue to talk about our babies, who aren’t afraid to speak their names, who aren’t uncomfortable when we cry.

It may appear to others as if we are picking up the pieces, moving forward with our lives. We know that our lives are forever changed. We can never again experience our lives as they were before January 11^th; we can never have our boys back again, at least not on earth.

There are no answers. Time does not heal our grief but helps us learn to live with it. Our grief is a welcome reminder of two beautiful souls who touched all of our lives in a way we do not want to forget, not ever. Mourning will someday pass but grief will be our companion forever.