Posts Tagged ‘Family’
Christmas Letter for 2011
Matt And Jojang
Dear Family and Friends,
“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow…”
~ Melody Beattie
The cool breeze and the slight smell of pine brushes through my face as I contemplate with gratitude the year that is soon to end and welcome with open arms the new year that is to come.
To begin with, this is the first time in nine years – since we got married – that Matthew was never rushed nor brought to the hospital. Sure, there were times when we almost did, but because he has already gotten stronger, we weathered the storm.
The past months, God is providing for us through a project in Baguio that I am currently involved in. It is also the first time in nine years that I regularly report for work in an office.
Matthew has always been tech-y. Thanks to Mark Zuckerberg communicating with relatives and friends through Facebook has made the world smaller for us. So don’t be surprised if you will notice that he has just posted a comment at your status and/or “like” it 
This year end review will not be complete without mentioning this blog. We never expected it to have 100,000+ hits and 20 regular followers who have subscribed. It is a source of joy for us to know that we are reaching out to so many people.
All in all, I guess I can say it has been a halcyon year of sorts for Matthew and I. We can only thank God for making it so.
We look forward to the year ahead knowing that God is with us every step of the way.
May the good Lord bless you, our readers. May He make His face shine upon you and give you peace.
~Jojang
Allaying Grief Through Books
Photo: Antonio Mantero/Flickr
FOR three years after the death of her adored eldest sister, Anne-Marie, Nina Sankovitch mourned by staying relentlessly busy. She felt a guilt-strafed survivor’s obligation to live life enough for two.
The mother of four sons, she signed up for PTA committees, coached soccer and a Lego robotics team, taught art appreciation classes to elementary school students, took Pilates classes and parenting classes, joined a book group and a tennis group, began kayaking, started a theater group for children in her basement and a Web site for trading books, gardened ferociously and wrote a novel (unpublished).
But in her increasingly frantic efforts to taste joy for herself and her sister, she tasted only ashes. She would still wake in the night, sobbing.
Finally, she jettisoned almost all her commitments in favor of the one pursuit that had always given her special pleasure. She committed herself to reading a book a day for an entire year.
“After years of chasing after joy, I finally sat down and let it come to me,” Ms. Sankovitch, 48, a tall, tennis-vibrant woman, said over coffee at her kitchen table in Westport, Conn. A photo triptych of Anne-Marie in thick reading glasses, posing in merry solidarity with Ms. Sankovitch’s son Peter, wearing his first pair, gleams from a rosewood frame nearby.
On Oct. 28, 2008, her 46th birthday, Ms. Sankovitch began the project, dedicating it to Anne-Marie, who died four months after receiving a diagnosis of bile-duct cancer, a week shy of turning 47. That last day, driving home from an encouraging visit with her sister in the hospital, Ms. Sankovitch got the phone call, pulled her car to the side of the road and screamed.
In the resulting memoir, “Tolstoy and the Purple Chair” (Harper Collins), whose title alludes to her reading armchair of cat-clawed, faded purple brocade, Ms. Sankovitch writes about that redemptive year of contemplation. The book is also an account of her family traumas: not only the death of Anne-Marie but also the World War II murders of three of her father’s siblings. It is a meditation on grief and healing, on values held sacred by her family and the life well lived. It is, of course, a paean to reading.
“I was looking to books for more than just escape and pleasure,” said Ms. Sankovitch, an accomplished environmental lawyer who gradually gave up practicing after she had children. Now she was seeking answers about “how to live with sorrow and how to find my place in the world.”
While the mechanics of the project could occasionally be daunting, Ms. Sankovitch found the solace she yearned for. Books like “The Laws of Evening,” the short story collection by Mary Yukari Waters, taught her about addressing loss. “The characters were past the denial stage, past anger,” she said. “They were figuring out how to go on living with loss. Everyone’s solution was different, but many used memory to cope, as proof that good things will come again.”
Diana Athill reinforced that lesson. “Somewhere Towards the End” is a memoir she published at 91. “Every day is still a new day for her,” Ms. Sankovitch said.
Sitting in Ms. Sankovitch’s sunny kitchen, as her sons, ages 10 through 17, tromp in and out of the house, and talking books with her can be just plain fun. As she trades ideas about characters, her blue eyes sparkle. She opens a worn notepad to jot down unfamiliar titles.
“I do read a Kindle on the exercise bike, but I love a real book, especially from the library or a used one,” she said. “I like knowing that other people have held it. I like reading what others have scribbled in the margins. I’ve even seen people make little grammar-correcting marks.”
Seeking safe haven in reading was natural for a woman who grew up in a family of book worshippers. Her middle sister, Natasha, had been a comparative literature professor (later a lawyer); her Belgian mother, Tilde, taught French literature at Northwestern. The year her Belarusian father, Anatole, now a retired surgeon, spent in a sanatorium for tuberculosis, he and another patient read novels aloud to each other. The books Ms. Sankovitch read to her young sons, all passionate readers, include volumes of poetry she had written for them.
Reading was a means of communication for her close-knit family, with its European formality. “My parents are private people,” Ms. Sankovitch said. “Americans are raised to ask personal questions. But I feel that if something isn’t my business, I won’t pry. Books are a shield and a way to get closer to those questions, so you can talk about taboo subjects. You can have those intimate conversations without prying.”
Anne-Marie was an art historian who loved the written word, and the sisters, unlike in many ways, often found common ground through books. “She was smarter than me and more beautiful,” Ms. Sankovitch said sadly, recalling her sister. “But I was more fearless and socially adept. She didn’t suffer fools. I’d been at dinner parties where she would up and leave if she was bored. But she was a saint to me.”
In “Tolstoy and the Purple Chair,” she describes how she and other family members would bring books to Anne-Marie’s sickbed. The visits often included book chats. After her death, the family dedicated a bench in her memory in the Conservatory Garden in Central Park, where passers-by can sit, contemplate the surrounding blooming beauty and read.
During her reading year, Ms. Sankovitch received recommendations for books from readers of a blog she had started (readallday.org), where she posted short reviews of each book. She also drew inspiration from the deep, eclectic collection in the Westport Public Library.
“My year would have been different with a different library, in a different town,” she said. She discovered new stacks, exploring genres outside her comfort zone of novels: essays, plays, science fiction, travel.
Typically reading 70 pages an hour, she’d try to finish each book in about four hours. She still did the laundry and carpooling, reading while the boys were in school, percolating at night, posting in the morning.
She described her reviews as “a public diary.”
“They’re not intellectual dismemberment,” she continued, “but more of my emotional response to the book.”
About “Little Bee,” the devastating novel by Chris Cleave, she wrote: “We connect to those we can see and touch; we protect the ones we can. But even then, a sister can die, and you won’t even know it until you get the phone call driving home over the Henry Hudson Bridge after what you thought was a very good day.”
The quixotic intensity of the project did not surprise those who know Ms. Sankovitch: she seems hard-wired for the full-bore experience. When tennis elbow threatened to forfeit her daily match with her husband, Jack Menz, a Manhattan lawyer (their home sits on two acres, including a clay court), she switched to her left hand, playing poorly but gamely. As a young associate at a Manhattan firm, a position demanding 16-hour days, she was focused and efficient, largely because other priorities called, including books. She would skip lunch and close her door to read for pleasure.
Once, while biking, recalled Stephanie Young, a friend from Harvard Law School, Ms. Sankovitch mentioned that her father advised “everything in moderation.”
At that, Ms. Young laughed. “Nina doesn’t do anything in moderation,” she said. “While she was telling us this, she was eating her sixth FrozFruit bar.”
As Ms. Sankovitch began to emerge from grief during her year of reading, her husband said the impact on the entire family was salutary.
“Nina had such a serenity,” Mr. Menz said. “And part of it was that the pace of her life was just slower than everyone else’s. We had fun dinners, because you’d not only hear about what our guys did during the day, but Nina would talk about the new characters she had just read. I’d watch Giants games with our son Michael, and she’d be there, but reading. We just gave her that space.”
Now, Ms. Sankovitch’s own readers have written her, saying that her memoir has become their handbook about how to read through grief.
“I am so happy that what I found in books, someone else might have found in mine,” Ms. Sankovitch said. “It’s all back to Anne-Marie, what a tribute to her.” She is thinking of writing a new book, based on letters from the late 19th century that she found in the family’s former Upper West Side brownstone.
And she is still reading. Last November, she proposed that she and her husband tackle “War and Peace” together. He somehow set it aside.
Naturally, Ms. Sankovitch finished. But not until January.
Some books are just not meant to be read in a day.
~Jan Hoffman
A Serving of Gratitude May Save the Day
Photo: moel1/Flickr
The most psychologically correct holiday of the year is upon us.
Thanksgiving may be the holiday from hell for nutritionists, and it produces plenty of war stories for psychiatrists dealing with drunken family meltdowns. But it has recently become the favorite feast of psychologists studying the consequences of giving thanks. Cultivating an “attitude of gratitude” has been linked to better health, sounder sleep, less anxiety and depression, higher long-term satisfaction with life and kinder behavior toward others, including romantic partners. A new study shows that feeling grateful makes people less likely to turn aggressive when provoked, which helps explain why so many brothers-in-law survive Thanksgiving without serious injury.
But what if you’re not the grateful sort? I sought guidance from the psychologists who have made gratitude a hot research topic. Here’s their advice for getting into the holiday spirit — or at least getting through dinner Thursday:
Start with “gratitude lite.” That’s the term used by Robert A. Emmons, of the University of California, Davis, for the technique used in his pioneering experiments he conducted along with Michael E. McCullough of the University of Miami. They instructed people to keep a journal listing five things for which they felt grateful, like a friend’s generosity, something they’d learned, a sunset they’d enjoyed.
The gratitude journal was brief — just one sentence for each of the five things — and done only once a week, but after two months there were significant effects. Compared with a control group, the people keeping the gratitude journal were more optimistic and felt happier. They reported fewer physical problems and spent more time working out.
Further benefits were observed in a study of polio survivors and other people with neuromuscular problems. The ones who kept a gratitude journal reported feeling happier and more optimistic than those in a control group, and these reports were corroborated by observations from their spouses. These grateful people also fell asleep more quickly at night, slept longer and woke up feeling more refreshed.
“If you want to sleep more soundly, count blessings, not sheep,” Dr. Emmons advises in “Thanks!” his book on gratitude research.
Don’t confuse gratitude with indebtedness. Sure, you may feel obliged to return a favor, but that’s not gratitude, at least not the way psychologists define it. Indebtedness is more of a negative feeling and doesn’t yield the same benefits as gratitude, which inclines you to be nice to anyone, not just a benefactor.
In an experiment at Northeastern University, Monica Bartlett and David DeSteno sabotaged each participant’s computer and arranged for another student to fix it. Afterward, the students who had been helped were likelier to volunteer to help someone else — a complete stranger — with an unrelated task. Gratitude promoted good karma. And if it works with strangers ….
Try it on your family. No matter how dysfunctional your family, gratitude can still work, says Sonja Lyubomirsky of the University of California, Riverside.
“Do one small and unobtrusive thoughtful or generous thing for each member of your family on Thanksgiving,” she advises. “Say thank you for every thoughtful or kind gesture. Express your admiration for someone’s skills or talents — wielding that kitchen knife so masterfully, for example. And truly listen, even when your grandfather is boring you again with the same World War II story.”
Don’t counterattack. If you’re bracing for insults on Thursday, consider a recent experiment at the University of Kentucky. After turning in a piece of writing, some students received praise for it while others got a scathing evaluation: “This is one of the worst essays I’ve ever read!”
Then each student played a computer game against the person who’d done the evaluation. The winner of the game could administer a blast of white noise to the loser. Not surprisingly, the insulted essayists retaliated against their critics by subjecting them to especially loud blasts — much louder than the noise administered by the students who’d gotten positive evaluations.
But there was an exception to this trend among a subgroup of the students: the ones who had been instructed to write essays about things for which they were grateful. After that exercise in counting their blessings, they weren’t bothered by the nasty criticism — or at least they didn’t feel compelled to amp up the noise against their critics.
“Gratitude is more than just feeling good,” says Nathan DeWall, who led the study at Kentucky. “It helps people become less aggressive by enhancing their empathy. “It’s an equal-opportunity emotion. Anyone can experience it and benefit from it, even the most crotchety uncle at the Thanksgiving dinner table.”
Share the feeling. Why does gratitude do so much good? “More than other emotion, gratitude is the emotion of friendship,” Dr. McCullough says. “It is part of a psychological system that causes people to raise their estimates of how much value they hold in the eyes of another person. Gratitude is what happens when someone does something that causes you to realize that you matter more to that person than you thought you did.”
Try a gratitude visit. This exercise, recommended by Martin Seligman of the University of Pennsylvania, begins with writing a 300-word letter to someone who changed your life for the better. Be specific about what the person did and how it affected you. Deliver it in person, preferably without telling the person in advance what the visit is about. When you get there, read the whole thing slowly to your benefactor. “You will be happier and less depressed one month from now,” Dr. Seligman guarantees in his book “Flourish.”
Contemplate a higher power. Religious individuals don’t necessarily act with more gratitude in a specific situation, but thinking about religion can cause people to feel and act more gratefully, as demonstrated in experiments by Jo-Ann Tsang and colleagues at Baylor University. Other research shows that praying can increase gratitude.
Go for deep gratitude. Once you’ve learned to count your blessings, Dr. Emmons says, you can think bigger.
“As a culture, we have lost a deep sense of gratefulness about the freedoms we enjoy, a lack of gratitude toward those who lost their lives in the fight for freedom, a lack of gratitude for all the material advantages we have,” he says. “The focus of Thanksgiving should be a reflection of how our lives have been made so much more comfortable by the sacrifices of those who have come before us.”
And if that seems too daunting, you can least tell yourself —
Hey, it could always be worse. When your relatives force you to look at photos on their phones, be thankful they no longer have access to a slide projector. When your aunt expounds on politics, rejoice inwardly that she does not hold elected office. Instead of focusing on the dry, tasteless turkey on your plate, be grateful the six-hour roasting process killed any toxic bacteria.
Is that too much of a stretch? When all else fails, remember the Monty Python mantra of the Black Plague victim: “I’m not dead.” It’s all a matter of perspective.
~ John Tierney
Wishing for Less Time
Photo: Leandro Perez/Flickr
I never used to go anywhere without my cell phone. It was not only a means of communication, but my sole timepiece, and not knowing the time made me crazy.
That all changed one afternoon when my oldest son was two years old. After four years of living in the Southwest and its two seasons of hot and hotter, we moved to the upper Midwest. I couldn’t wait to experience the change in seasons, so one crisp October day I packed up my son and a picnic lunch and headed to a nearby state park to see some fall colors.
When we arrived, I unfastened the buckles of his car seat, retrieved our lunch, and instinctively reached for my cell phone. Then I paused.
It was one of those rare days when I had no other obligations or deadlines. My husband was on a business trip, so there was no one waiting for us to come home. I asked myself, ‘What if I just don’t worry about time today?’
I returned my cell phone to its resting place among the loose coins in front of the gear shift and turned my full attention to enjoying the afternoon with my son.
After our picnic lunch, we wandered over to a pile of fallen leaves. My son splashed through them up to his thighs, tossed them in the air, and giggled as I buried him over and over. “Wow!” he gushed appreciatively as gusts of wind rearranged the pile and made little leaf cyclones.
While he was enthralled, I felt myself growing bored and impatient. I wanted to pull out my “five more minutes” ultimatum and move on to something I deemed more interesting; but, without my phone, I would have had no way of knowing when five minutes had passed. Then I reminded myself, ‘There is nothing you have to do today except be with your little boy.’
I gave myself over to the freedom of not worrying about what would come next. Right now, nothing mattered except sharing in my son’s joy of as he raced through those leaves.
We went for a walk and came to a bridge spanning a river. I let him run back and forth across it as many times as he wanted, a carefree “Whee!” accompanying each crossing. We wandered farther up the path. He peered at the insects hopping through the tall grass, and I was right there with him. The ability to share in his wonder and curiosity came naturally once I quit clinging to a preconceived schedule.
When he tired of walking, we headed back to the car. I welcomed the delay when some flowers caught his attention. We stooped and examined them to his satisfaction before moving on.
I can’t tell you whether that afternoon lasted one hour or four, but I do know that we both had the time of our lives. Eckhart Tolle points out that humans existed for millennia without clocks. Our modern obsession with time perplexes me when I remember this. I wish for less attachment to time. I wish for more afternoons when time doesn’t matter. I wish for my son’s ability to be fully in the present moment.
I have to live by the clock day-to-day to keep appointments, interact with the adults in my life, and meet my children’s all-important bedtime deadline each night. Whenever I can, though, I put all my clocks out of sight and out of mind. I let my children take the lead and slip into their world, where nothing matters but the present moment and time is reckoned in hugs and laughs instead of hours and minutes.
~ Leah Elliot
Birthday Greetings
Today, June 14, 2011 is Matthew’s birthday… and this is a surprise post for him!
The Paradox Of Our Age
Photo: Kurtis Billard/Flickr
We have bigger houses but smaller families;
more conveniences, but less time;
We have more degrees, but less sense;
more knowledge, but less judgement;
more experts, but more problems;
more medicines, but less healthiness;
We’ve been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet
the new neighbor.
We build more computers to hold more
information to produce more copies then ever,
but have less communication;
We have become long on quantity,
but short on quality.
These are times of fast foods
but slow digestion;
Tall men but short character;
Steep profits but shallow relationships.
It’s a time when there is much in the window,
but nothing in the room.
~ The 14th Dalai Lama
2010 Christmas Letter
Jojang & Matt
Dear Family and Friends,
It was a stormy day. In fact, the fog was out almost the whole day. People were advised to stay home. We both chose to follow.
Matt tinkered on his computer, while I busied myself pottering around the house. Matt donned a long sleeve shirt and jogging pants. I, on the other hand, was wearing a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt. I put the fan “on” yet in spite of the storm and efforts to cool myself, it still felt hot! If you are thinking what I’m thinking… yup, you’re right. Hot flushes! I turned fifty last March.
When I was a little girl, I thought that people who were fifty years old were ancient. Now that I have reached this age, I realize we’re not. In fact, we can be hip. And life can still be exciting.
Anyway, this is our usual year-end Christmas letter. Like, I said earlier, this year I turned fifty! As I look back on my fifty years in existence, I cannot help but see that the Lord has really been good to us. Amidst the trials and vicissitudes of life, He has always been with us. Guiding and loving us, every step of the way.
Matthew, on the other hand, struggled with his health especially during the first three quarters of the year. Having been hospitalized three times this year. Last July, Matthew and I stayed for three weeks in Manila. He remembered his grandparents that used to bring him to Manila (or Pampanga) whenever he would have very bad asthma attacks. And true enough, his health significantly improved. We were sure that warm weather helped (the Doctor said that oxygen is thin at high altitudes and thick at low altitudes). But the very clean environment was surely a major factor too. We stayed at my friend’s place – thanks to Dave and Wawi Dellosa and family for the hospitality, generosity, warmth and loving kindness – where Matthew’s health improved by leaps and bounds. There, he was able to take strolls and even go to Mega mall. Something he has not done in years.
As the year ends, we look forward to the year ahead with hope in our hearts. We place our life in God’s hand. He has always been taking care and providing for our needs. And we believe that He will always continue to do so.
Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Grace Filled New Year ahead!
- Jojang
Para kay Kuya Pepe
Meron akong kakilala
siya’y tunay na maginoo
mabait, guwapo, dakila,
at ubod pa ng talino.
Siguradong sigurado
ako, sasang-ayon kayo
kung sasabihin ko sa ‘nyo
sya’y kaaya-ayang tao.
Masarap siya kung magluto
fabada, paella, bacalao
pollos, pescados, mariscos
lagi na lang busog ang tyan ko.
Siya’y laging handang tumulong
makinig, magbigay payo
tuwing kami ay lumalapit
nagatubilin magkuwento.
Siguro alam ninyo na kung
sino ang tinutukoy ko
walang iba kung hindi
si Pepe, ang bida sa gabing ito!
Binabati ka namin
ng maligayang araw.
Nagpapasalamat kami
Ika’y naging bahagi ng aming buhay…
Nagmamahal,
Matthew at Jojang Aguas
Kuya Pepe Lugay is Jojang’s first cousin, and our Godfather. He passed away yesterday, October 24, 2010. She wrote this to honor him when he celebrated his 80th birthday last August 25, 2008. Kuya Pepe is a good man. He is so endeared and respected amongst his colleagues and relatives. We will surely miss him.
Recovering the Skill of Neighborliness
Research has shown that when we live on car-filled streets, our number of close friends drops by half. We eat half the meals we used to with friends, family, neighbors. Forget about the flax-swingler; our clothes come through the ether from the mysterious geography of Lands’ End. We don’t need each other anymore, and that’s the saddest thing we’ve done… The big question for this century may turn out to be how fast we can relearn the skill of neighborliness.
- Bill McKibben
He Aint Heavy, He’s My Brother
This is their story of friendship, faith and the ultimate sacrifice.
We met the brothers at 5:30 a.m. on July 29th in the waiting room at the University of Colorado Hospital. They were both in good spirits and surrounded by their parents, wives and siblings who were there for support.
By 6:00 a.m., Ryan and Chad were being prepped for surgery.
Chad was overcome with emotion as he told us about the day he learned his brother’s liver was a perfect match.
“It was a very humbling experience,” said Chad. “Ryan called me and said, ‘I’m a match.’ And you feel a lot of things at that point. Relief, gratefulness to God and to Ryan. And after that you wrestle with a lot of guilt, like I really don’t want to bring him through this. But he shut me up pretty fast and said, ‘Well, you would do it for me, wouldn’t you?’”
Chad had PSC, a disease of the liver for which there’s no cure. His symptoms were getting worse — the itching, fatigue and jaundice. He was in the final stages of liver failure, his condition was deteriorating and he needed a liver fast.
A living donor was his only hope, so his brother Ryan stepped in.
“You know, I love Chad. He’s my brother and he’s got a lot of life left to live,” Ryan told us as he was being prepped for the procedure. “I’m healthy and I know I’ll stay healthy. I’ll recover and I want to see him do the things he wants to do, and spend time with his family, and I want to have him around for a long time.”
Little was said as the brothers said goodbye to each in the surgery room. They hugged and smiled, but didn’t speak much.
Ryan’s surgery was first as they quickly whisked him away. Within minutes, the procedure began with a team of doctors who carefully removed 60 percent of Ryan’s healthy liver, while Chad patiently waited and shared his thoughts with us.
“The thing I’ve learned through all this is that God writes the story. It’s not my story to write. Ryan’s the hero and I’m just playing my part. He’s the real hero,” Chad told us.
Once the organ was removed from Ryan, it was carefully rinsed and carried next door to be transplanted into Chad after his diseased liver was removed.
Doctor Igal Kam performed the surgery on Ryan.
“We have two brothers here today and one of them is very sick and probably can’t hold on for too much longer,” Dr. Kam told us. “It’s hard for him with his disease to get to the top of the transplant list. But his brother came around and said he would give him part of his liver. It’s that kind of generosity that’s wonderful to see because he’ll probably save his brother’s life.”
Deaths of living donors are rare — about .5 to 1 percent, but the surgery is still risky. While both livers will regenerate and grow back to their original size, if too much is removed or something goes wrong, it’s the donor whose life is at risk.
“It’s still a very controversial surgery in the United States. There have been a few deaths of donors, healthy people who gave part of their liver and didn’t make it. But I think we’re very careful in selecting our donors and the chances of it happening here are very, very low,” Dr. Kam said with confidence.
In the initial days following the procedure, both men were recovering at different rates. Ryan’s family says one minute Chad was doing better, and then Ryan, and vice versa.
On July 30, Ryan was moved out of the Intensive Care Unit. The next day, on the evening of July 31, he suddenly went into cardiac arrest, lapsed into a coma and was placed on life support.
He died two days later, on Aug. 2.
Ryan Arnold was healthy, active and strong. He was a husband and father of three little boys, ages 1, 4 and 6.
Chad is now recovering at home. He’s tired and weak, but otherwise doing well.
He described to us how he first learned of his brother’s death.
“My dad came to my hospital room and grabbed my feet. He leaned forward and said, ‘I’ve got some bad news.” He was holding back the tears. “Ryan’s gone, but we still serve a good God.’ He couldn’t have said it better,” Chad told us.
Ryan gave Chad the gift of life, a gift which led to his own death. And because of that, Chad refuses to place the focus on himself.
“This is a story about a man who is deeply convicted by his faith and because of that, what he did for me was just sort of a normal thing that he did for people. Ryan is the hero in this,” Chad says.
And while there’s a huge scar on the outside, there’s one on the inside as well. Chad is now committed to living his life the way Ryan lived his: with faith, compassion and humility.
“Ryan gave without hesitation. It’s the ultimate sacrifice, but he’d do it again.”
Ryan Arnold was buried on August 9 in Watertown, South Dakota. He’s survived by his wife Shannon and three young boys, his parents and three siblings.
- Source: http://neogaf.net
