Tribute by Janice M. Bell
December 16, 2018
Curtis and I, my children Brenden and Ashley, and my new favorite son-in-law Brenden Matus, would like to thank you very much for joining us today as we “Honour Jordan’s Journey”. Over the past 2 weeks since Jordan’s unexpected and untimely death, we feel like we have been carried by angels with your phone calls of comfort, emails about what you appreciated most and what you will miss about Jordan, as well as your texts, flowers, and food. We have been overwhelmed and grateful for the love and support we have received. It has felt like drinking water from a firehose!
High on the list of the team of our team of angels has been my wonderful friend LeeAnn Shipowick. She and I were close friends in Calgary and our friendship continued when we both relocated to the Kelowna area. LeeAnn organized the events of this memorial weekend which honour Jordan and we have both benefited from the expertise of her amazing daughter Toria, who has created a website to honor Jordan, and who has offered her gifts and expertise wherever and however they were needed. Heartfelt thanks to LeeAnn and Toria.
I also wish to thank my dear friend and colleague Dr. Lorraine Wright from Calgary who, when I learned of Jordan’s death in the early morning hours of December 2, enveloped me with her love, wisdom, and comfort. Lorraine’s amazing support and coaching sustained me through that heartbreaking day until I boarded my flight back to Kelowna on Saturday afternoon. A special thanks to Lorraine for joining us here today along with my former graduate student, Dr. Nancy Moules, who now enjoys a flourishing academic career at the University of Calgary and has been the recipient of many research awards and honors for her scholarship in extending knowledge about families experiencing illness and grief.
Thank you to Blenda Arzadon Adams who is here today from Calgary and who has been an integral member of our family for many years in her role as a caregiver to our family and “second mother” to our children.
Thank you to our families: Curtis’ two sisters and their families and my family–my two sisters and brother and their families who have joined us here today as well as numerous cousins from our extended Bell, Horne, Luchak, and Melenchuk families.
To Jordan’s friends from Chinook Winds Adventist Academy in Calgary as well as friends who were students with Jordan at Walla Walla University in Washington–you’ve travelled great distances to be here with us today, one week before Christmas, thank you.
To Curtis’ Interior Health colleagues, thank you for your support and allowing Curtis time away from work to grieve.
We wish to acknowledge and welcome Jamey Bryant from Sunshine Coast Health Centre – an addiction treatment center for men where Jordan received support and developed a special connection with Jamey. Jamey recently announced that she is creating a scholarship in Jordan’s name that will provide addiction treatment to a young man in Jordan’s honor.
And a special thank you to the Kelowna Urban Rec volleyball community who shared Jordan’s passion for the game and with whom Jordan enjoyed playing his favorite sport– 2 nights every week. We are looking forward to meeting you today and we thank you for being such an important part of Jordan’s life over the past 8 years.
So, here is my love letter to my precious son Jordan:
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” ~ Kahlil Gibran
Jordan Michael Bell: aka Jo, Jordie, Pee-Wee, JoJo, “the sweetest PeeWee of Cousins Cove”.
Jo, you were a planned and longed for baby—conceived on a hot summer night while we were vacationing in Lake Country and born on April 14 at 4 pm in the afternoon—a convenient time for a university professor with the intensity of the academic term just completed. Dr. Margaret Scott Wright, Dean of the Faculty of Nursing at the University of Calgary at the time of your birth, was supportive of each of my three pregnancies during my academic career—but likely only because each one of my precious children were born in either April or May, allowing me to return back to work by September! Oh those long hot summer Okanagan nights…
When I was six months pregnant with you, Jordan, a routine ultrasound detected an unusual fetal heartbeat. The pediatric cardiologist assured us that the science was new and they did not really fully understand whether this was just a normal developmental process or a symptom of some pathology. For the next 3 months—I won’t lie—we worried about you! At your birth there was entire cardiac pediatric team in the delivery room of the Foothills Hospital in Calgary who were ready to airlift you to Edmonton if you needed cardiac surgery to sustain your life. I’m guessing you looked around at the all the fuss that was being made—let out a lusty cry and demanded you be returned to your mama’s breast! In fact, I know if you were here today you would say the same thing—“hey guys, what’s all the fuss?” You did not like the spotlight and you did not like celebrating your birthday (although you loved the gifts)—but you did enjoy being the best and knowing you excelled whether it was in your academic studies or in your athleticism. In what seemed like an eternity during that birthing experience while we waited for the cardiac team to check you over (but was probably only 20-30 minutes) you were indeed reunited with me and your Dad and we were thrilled that the cardiac team decided you were OK. Just to be sure, the cardiac team admitted you to the neonatal intensive care at the Foothills overnight but by the morning you were back on the postpartum unit rooming in with me and the crisis and worry were over!
I’ve always wondered whether the stress of a “questionable cardiac diagnosis” offered at month six of my pregnancy had some long term effect on you. You truly were born an “old soul” with a depth of kindness and sensitivity to others that neither a traumatic brain injury (TBI) sustained in a skateboard accident your second week of university in 2006, nor a subsequent alcohol use disorder could diminish. The TBI, which was eventually diagnosed in 2012 through neurological testing, caused subtle changes in your executive functioning which, I believe, changed you forever. Executive function refers to HOW YOU DO what you want to do. You knew what you wanted to do, but you couldn’t seem to manage the “how you do it” part. Neurological testing showed your intelligence was not affected by the TBI, but there were deficits in your ability to plan, organize, and follow through, and there were changes in your inhibitory control and emotional regulation. It was certainly a disability—but an invisible one. By the time you turned 30 in April 2017, you were suffering increasing despair about the way your life was unfolding—feeling more “out of sync” when you compared your life to your siblings and your cousins and your friends–wishing only to find satisfying work, find love in your life, enjoy close friendships in the Kelowna community, and feel like your life had meaning and purpose.
But I am getting ahead of myself in this love letter to you…
I have a treasured photo of your Dad and me introducing you to your older brother Brenden who, even at two, seemed a bit confused and miffed that he was no longer the center of attention! And when your sister Ashley was born just 13 months later (our little “oops” baby) with the most calm and contented disposition, both you and Brenden had a female “queen bee” in your midst and you both worked hard and often competitively to be her friend. Oh the family dynamics of a triangle which usually consists of “two in and one out”—but it seemed that you two brothers managed this arrangement very diplomatically each taking turns being one of the two in and the one out in your relationship with the queen bee!
However, Jordan, you actually won the lottery in your relationship with the queen bee Ashley because when you started Grade 1 in a small private Christian school in Calgary, the seasoned and well loved first grade teacher, Miss Deer, had a belief that boys matured much later than girls so she started you in what she called, “Junior Grade 1”. When Ashley began Grade 1 the following year, Miss Deer did some careful assessment and believed that the two of you would be compatible classmates in a small classroom and so from Grades 1-12, you were classmates and soulmates. It turned out to be a great arrangement for me. On the drive home from school each day, I would ask my two sons—”So, how did your day go?” “Fine, mom”, was the usual response. Ashley would then proceed to offer her observations which were much more detailed about who was friends with whom, and a play by play description of the day—that included useful information about the dynamics of the classroom and her observations of her brothers and their friends.
What you taught me, Jordan, was the love I experienced for you as 3 or 4 year old child was a different species of love than the love I had for you as a 12 or 13 year child. And the love I had for you as my 30 year son with an invisible disability made it impossible for me to imagine life without you. You enlarged my heart and my world to the point that I could never contemplate life without you.
You loved sports and loved collecting hotel cards from our numerous travels, nationally and internationally.
You were a daredevil/risk taker – running around the bedroom after your evening bath at 4 years old, slamming into the door jam and cutting your chin wide open; taking a dare from your siblings to jump off the balcony of a condo at Emerald Lake into a snowbank, then complaining about pain in your ankle as we started out on a 10 km cross country ski loop, and later being diagnosed with a broken ankle!
You were very bright, intelligent, and very strategic (which could look alot like “lazy”)! “Work smarter, not harder” was your motto in everything you did–maximum gain for minimum effort. Unfortunately, it was often the “minimal effort” part that caught our attention as parents! Blenda recalls frequently reminding you to complete your homework. You would respond with “Ashley is almost finished her homework. I’ll just copy her work!”
On the basketball court, you would look like you were standing still, your hands tucked under your jersey as you observed the play that your team members were frantically running around trying to set up. At the last minute, you would swoop into the play and score the point!
Through grade school and high school you were always second from the top of the class. When asked why you didn’t make an effort to compete for first place with your classmate, Heather, the star student who consistently held first place, you told me it would be “too much work and not worth the effort”!
The love of risk-taking continued into your adult life. You loved buying lotto tickets and dreaming of the big win!
You had amazing musical talent, completing the Grade 7 Royal Conservatory exam in piano and playing a mean saxophone in the school band. I have one very special memory of a particular brass jazz number you performed in a school concert with great flair along with your beloved teacher Mike Berdan, your brother Brenden on trumpet, your best friend Chantz on trombone, and you on the saxophone.
From a chubby little baby with a deep husky voice, you became a tall lanky kid with a big smile; then you grew up to be an impossibly tall handsome guy–6 feet, 4 inches, with the thinnest legs and that 1000 watt smile and beautiful green/gray eyes. You were always friendly and polite! And always ready for fun, with a certain easy “go with the flow” demeanor that probably came from being a middle child.
In a grade 4 essay you wrote about your future goals:
“To do good in gymnastics.
To get a dog.
To get a good job.
Hope my parents get a good life and get taken care of.”
In 2006, you graduated with honors from Chinook Winds Adventist Academy and chose to attend Walla Walla University – a small private university in southeastern Washington where you graduated with a business degree in 2010. And despite the TBI which occurred during your second week of university in October 2006, your first 3 years of university were the happiest years of your adult life thanks to supportive friends and family around you—your two siblings, Brenden and Ashley, your cousins Kory and Josh Ferguson, your dear friend Aaron Laudenslager, your girlfriend Sharla Shroeder and many other friends who supported you within an academic atmosphere where there were schedules and cueing and reminders and everybody around you was doing the same the thing within a community of support.
When you returned home from university in June 2010, and the chaos and despair of your life became more visible, the question I’ve been asking myself on a daily basis over these past 7 years is: “What would a good mother do?”
As your parents—and as health care professionals, your Dad and I were resourceful and committed to your healing. We consulted with many experts, read many books, got you involved in lots of different treatment programs (neuro-rehab, addiction treatment, mental health) and offered you our love and support while encouraging financial independence. We never gave up hope for your healing yet we wondered what it would be that might create that leverage for change. We longed for the wisdom of our elders: if only Grandpa Bell were still alive and could take you to the ranch to help you heal; or if only Nana were still alive and could your offer some guidance and wisdom; or perhaps healing would come in the form of a friend, a good book, a wise therapist, a conversation, a new community, or maybe, as my cousin’s daughter suggested– a “good pussy”!
Illness truly is a family affair; as a family we have all been affected by the TBI and by the alcohol use disorder that developed as you struggled to live alongside TBI. I am forever grateful to family members like your Uncle Randy Ferguson who mentored you in construction work and looked out for you; family members like Aunty Marcia Hill and her husband Kelvin who offered to invite you to live in their home in Central Alberta where work was plentiful and they could provide a home with structure and loving support; to my young friend Roz who looked me in the eye this past spring and said—“I would be willing to be Jordan’s friend.” I am very grateful to your Uncle Michael and Aunty Pam for giving your Dad and me the keys to their house in Vancouver and letting us know that we would always receive a warm welcome and a place of respite when we needed a break from caring for you and worrying about you. And I am forever indebted to my dear friend and family nursing colleague Dr. Lorraine Wright, who has carried me and your Dad with her enduring support and advice through the long haul of this illness journey. And lastly I am grateful very grateful to your volleyball community—Jordan– here in Kelowna who helped you feel that for at least 1 hour twice a week, while you were offering your gifts of athleticisim and love of the sport to a community, you were accepted and appreciated just as you were.
On September 23, 2017, noticing your increasing despair, I wrote you a note before leaving town and left it by your bed. “I just want you to know that your Dad and I have love you very much and we have your back. When we are working or travelling we are always thinking about you. You are the center of our lives. If anything were to happen to you, we would never get over it. And anything you ever go through, we will always to be there for you. We are proud of you and we love you more than you’ll ever know.”
Jordan you were my most gifted child—with your sweet sensitivity and your courageous spirit and your risk taking. You were an old soul who wore your heart on your sleeve. On November 11, 2017, you wrote a note to my sister, your Aunty Karen, who had just received a cancer diagnosis: “Dear Aunty Karen: Do you know how special you are to all of us? Your love and kindness has always been there for us and we will always be there for you. No matter what, we will get through this together. I believe you will get healed. Love always and forever, Jordan.”
Jo, your brother and sister are superstars in their own right, but you—I always held a belief that one day you would surprise us all and hit it out the ballpark in some unusual way. In other words, my middle child—the go with the flow, kind of “lost in the pack kid” with an invisible disability—would not only exceed expectation but would soar!
You wanted a vibrant full life for yourself with satisfying work, a woman to love, and rich circle of friends. But despite living in deep despair about your life, you never lost sight of what was central to you—the importance of family, concern for others, and deep kindness.
If you could offer us any advice today, you would likely say–
“May we remember to be kinder.
May we remember to be gentler.
May we teach our children to listen with their hearts,
And by so teaching, may we listen for our own heart’s song.
May we smile more, breathe more deeply, walk slower, and help sooner…”
~Accidental Spirituality, by George Kaufman
When I learned about your death in a tortured phone call from your father just a few minutes after midnight Pacific time on December 2, I was in a hotel room in Calgary alone. I was flooded by a deep sense of peace knowing that your struggle and suffering is now over.
In closing, my heart is encouraged by my belief, that as my precious child, you are understood and loved by God–even more than your Dad and I could ever love you. And what gives me the greatest peace is that I believe God can be trusted with your eternity!
Love you forever, Mom xoxoxo
