Through our grief, carry THEIR love
My nine-month-old son needs to start taking naps in his own crib. That was supposed to be a work in progress this summer.
On Saturday morning as he curled up into my arms, there was no work to be done. He stayed right with me … because one night prior there were two little boys in Milan who would never again feel their mom and dad’s arms wrapped around them. So I kissed my son’s forehead, I held him tight and I refused to let go.
A tragedy no matter the situation makes us all think. But when tragedy hits you personally, that thinking only gets deeper. On Friday evening when a tragic head-on collision on Highway 350 took Jordan and Sierra Walters away from us, my mind and many of yours began their process of trying to comprehend something unfathomable, a tragedy that we would never wish upon our worst enemy, let alone any family.
It affected me personally. To many, he was Jordan. To me, he was “Dirty” Walters. Our younger days saw us battle against each other at Pangburn Park when youth league supremacy controlled the everyday summer life of most boys in Versailles. When we were too old to grace the beloved field, our dads decided to coach a Babe Ruth League team together and our friendship only deepened as it did with his identical twin brother, Jerad. It was a friendship that not only would last on a baseball diamond, but basketball courts, school hallways and a love for hanging out with mutual friends.
His personality through any of those ventures always shined, the only thing to shine bigger was his smile and hearty laugh that made anyone feel welcome.
Sierra was and is the love of Jordan’s life. To me, she was and still is Sierra Pope. Two years younger than me just like her husband, but when Sierra comes to mind I think of her quiet ways. While we were not as close, our time together can be summed up by a couple of things. First and foremost she carried a smile that was genuine, one of compassion. Secondly, when she spoke, you listened.
When someone who is one of few words chooses to chat, you should know that the message may not be loud, but should be listened to clearly. Sierra was one of those individuals where a famous cliche stuck … speak softly but carry a big stick.
And after all those thoughts went through my mind … I kissed my son again and started digging as he slept peacefully. As times changed in life and conversations with Jordan and Sierra Walters became few and far between, I realized we all need to be more like them.
It’s easy for anyone who has followed this devastating tragedy to find sympathy for a pair of young boys in Knight and Kyro. Perhaps though it is difficult for us away from the events of last Friday to understand what they lost.
Two boys lost their daddy. He didn’t just work to provide for his family, he showed those two what it meant to put family first. Jordan lived for them. not for work. He lived for vacations, he lived for school functions, he lived for nights at home and he lived for whatever sports his sons chose to play and lived to coach them and their friends. He taught them to love, he taught them to be passionate and he taught them to be competitive. After all, Jordan Walters to this day is the fiercest competitor I ever played against or with. Nobody wore their heart on their sleeve more than that man.
I trust that trait was passed down and that whenever you see those two boys hit a big bucket, score a big goal or slide into second base, you’ll see the reflection of the man they learned it from.
Two boys lost their mommy. The same mom who opened up an in-home daycare in order to not only look after her own children but to provide a loving and safe environment for other children in the area. Unconditional love. It wasn’t just shown to her husband and their children but to other parents who never once had to worry. Extra attention? A little extra time at all hours? Maybe just a quick snuggle? Don’t worry … Sierra took care of it. And might I add she did so not for an extra dollar or two into the bank account.
Sierra did it because she was genuine, because she loved and because she gave what she expected others to do for her and her family. As you see her children grow up and see others she took care of and loved along the way, I trust you will see her warmth and her compassion in each of them.
In these past few days, you’ve seen glimpses already of what their influence has meant for so many. You’ve seen it or heard about it on youth baseball fields, you’ve seen it through the words of family and friends and the acts of kindness and charity of many in our tight knit area that finds its way to come together when unthinkable tragedies occur.
I’m asking you to take a few extra steps, not for me, but in honor of two of the greatest people the heavenly father could create and bring into our lives.
I’m asking you to be a competitor, to not live for work but to work in order to provide your family the greatest experiences. I’m asking you to take that vacation, to coach that ball team, to have the most hearty of laughs and biggest of smiles to welcome that next stranger into your conversations. I’m asking you to be like Jordan Walters.
I’m asking you to love without rhyme or reason. I’m asking you to open your heart not just to your own family but to others. Let your kindest and softest words fill the hearts of every child and adult that comes across your way. I’m asking for compassion to be your guide, not a wallet or a selfish desire. I’m asking you to be like Sierra Walters.
And if all else fails, hold someone tight just like the nine-month-old in my arms. Remind them the sun will shine tomorrow, that their best days are ahead and that there is a multitude ready to love and guide them through the ups and downs of life that await.
Because that’s what Jordan and Sierra Walters would do.
