Eric Grove
Evergreen resident Eric Grove, 13, died Dec. 7, 2004 and was laid to rest surrounded by hundred of friends, schoolmates and family at Evergreen Memorial Park on Saturday, Dec. 11, 2004.
Eric was born Dec. 5, 1991 and was in such a hurry to get into the world that his birthplace was almost Interstate 70. He was creative and active—an inventor, an artist, a writer, and someone who would practice a new skateboard trick for hours to get it right so that he could show it to his family and friends.
His infectious laugh, ear-to-ear grin, and love of life were impossible to ignore. He was an individual and nonconformist who loved to set his own trends; few things made him happier than dressing in an unusual color or style combination to step out into the world. He never met a mud puddle or a body of water that he would not launch himself into – no matter how cold, or where he supposed to go next.
He loved animals, SpongeBob Squarepants, snowboarding, skateboarding, his friends –particularly Ian Blackburn, Kayla and Corbin Helvenston, Lillia Jackson and Austin O’Brien, and his family.
Eric had a lot of dreams for his future, including traveling the world with his best friend, Ian Blackburn. He was considering careers as a professional skateboarder, an attorney, a therapist and masseuse. He will always be remembered for his sense of justice and fairness and his kindness and defense of the underdog. We will miss his love and his humor, but he had places to go, angels to see, great things to accomplish elsewhere.
(Eric's obituary, written by Steve Jackson)
How to Live?
There was once a time
On planet Earth
When people loved well
And knew their worth
When tragedy struck
And it did then, as today
Folks opened their hearts
To chase pain away
There was comfort to be found
In the arms of a neighbor
For whom pain and death
Had not been a stranger
Together they faced
The demons of life
And together they
Conquered unspeakable strife
There was no type of trouble
That would make people hide
When life gave them death
Together they cried
Community was created
In those suffering souls
Who banded together
With but one common goal
To help each other
With healing balm
Kind words, a prayer
A poem, or song
Back then it was noble
The right thing to do
To extend a heart--
Love’s healing glue
Today we’re no different
Than we were in those days
We still have the pain
But we’ve lost our way
Progress is the term
We now use to describe
Our new way of being
And where we reside
Distance, careers, prosperity
And change
Are the new ‘paradigms’
That inhabit our brains
The magic of community
Has all but been lost
To today’s upwardly mobile
It is but a small cost
But what is the price
Of the self centered who blame
To a person who’s lost
Grief stricken with shame?
I’ll tell you the cost
For I am the one
Who lost everything
When death took my son
Now I no longer compete
Or commute
Life’s common rewards
Just don’t compute
In death I've discovered
A big secret I’ll share
It’s not progress
When people can’t care
So listen to me
A Mother who grieves
Be kind to a stranger
Who may be in need
For that person might well
Someday be you
Lost, sad and broken
Desperate, searching for clues
How did I get here?
Where did I go wrong?
Did I succumb to progress
And forget how to belong?
God sees our souls
As clear as our deeds
Be kind to all people
Is the message He pleads
And then our community
Will become what it had been
Honoring God and ourselves
Over the supreme quest to win
How to win at life
Is what we all wonder?
Love is the answer
To each question we ponder
When progress begins
To consume your day
Take a moment to reflect
Remembering Love is the way
Love is the magic
We all have to give
Progress, through Love
Is how to live!
Teri Grove
On behalf of Teri and family members, we want to thank you, To all of our family, friends, and visitors for lighting candles in Eric's memory, sharing stories, and the kind words of comfort you have expressed. This lifts our spirits and means more to us than you will ever know. Thank you so much.
ERIC'S STORIES--Eric wrote these stories a few months before his death for a creative writing assignment in which he was to write about the most significant things that had ever happened in his life.
MARK
Prologue
Many medicines have been made in order to help people with bipolar disorder, but the best way to control it is just to try hard. Have you ever wondered how you would cope with everyday life if you had this disorder? Well, let me tell you. A boy named Eric had this disorder, always getting into trouble, one way or another. Eric was going to get his way. Always fighting with teachers, yelling at peers, or making a big scene in the mall when Eric got in trouble. Though it rarely happened, Eric could be a nice, calm, easy-to-work-with kid. But only on the most seldom occasions. If I have grabbed your attention enough to read this far, as I obviously have, please read at least up to the beginning of this story.
Chapter 1
Why won she just leave me alone, I thought.
"OK, are you ready to go to school?" Eric's mom inquired.
I was watching Wiley Coyote.
"I'm not going," I yelled angrily.
"You have to go to school honey. I'll tell you what. I'll let you pick a treat from the Barney Bag," mom pleaded.
The Barney bag was a small suitcase filled with candy and small toys and treats, that I got to select from whenever I impressed my parents with a good thing I did.
"Well, OK," I said, and walked over to my dresser sluggishly and threw on my clothes. I always wore khaki pants and a striped collared shirt. I then walked over to my mom's bathroom and reached for the top shelf. My mom walked into the room and found me on the 2nd shelf reaching high.
"Honey, only mom can get the Barney Bag," mom said with a concerned tone. "Understand?"
"Get the Barney Bag," I whined. She reached up and grabbed her old round tan leather business bag (the Barney Bag.) I reached into the bag and pulled out a plastic hand-held pinball toy.
"Oh Yeah!" "Dad, Dad, look I got the pinball," I yelled into the kitchen where dad was having breakfast.
"Time to walk to school," mom said nicely.
"No!" I shrieked. That's how I responded to everything. The simple two-letter No always seemed to roll out of my tongue.
The entire way to school I was playing with my new pinball toy. When we got to the kindergarten doors, my mom stopped me, knelt down and said, "Remember Eric, today is your first day of after-school care. Be a good boy, OK?"
"Fine, OK," I said breaking away.
"Bye sweetie, I love you," Mom said.
"I love you too," I forced myself to say.
CHAPTER 2
After school, I followed Steven and Hannah, my two best friends, to after-school care. We were put into a group with Mark as our teacher. The first day, we made a yellow submarine out of paper maiche, while listening to the song by the Beatles. (Mark was a big Beatles fan.)
Steven, Hannah and I were talking about the principal and how all the older kids hated her. Just then, I had a terrible idea. I told Steven and Hannah.
"Don't you think we should plan it?" Steven asked. And so we made blue prints. Hannah made a secret language so that parents could not understand what we were planning.
We were going to kill the principal. Or at least that was the plan that day.
Mark came over to us and read our secret papers. Apparently, the language wasn't so secret, cause he immediately got a concerned lok and said "If you demolish these plans and never speak of them, I won't tell anyone."
That's how Mark worked. He negotiated with us. However, Hannah's mom found some papers in her backpack and she told what we had discussed. I was called into the office the next morning.
"Do you want me to turn you into the police?" Pat, the principal asked. "Because what do you think they would say?" "What you did was very wrong, and I have to admit, I was not threatened, because you are kindergartners. These types of games aren't funny and you must promise to never play anything like this again."
My parents were very upset about the call they received from principal Pat. But it was all settled, and I spent a lot of time within the four walls of my room (grounded).
CHAPTER 3
A few weeks later, at the YMCA, we were having our soccer championship. Sadly, we lost.
After school the next school day, I talked to Mark about the soccer game. He always kept my spirits up.
"You'll win next time, sport," he said confidently.
It was a relief to know that Mark would always be there for me in times of despair.
THE END
NEWBORN
It was about mid November and the only thing that was in my head at the time was the images of my brother that my dad had given me. You should see his cute little pink chubby face dad kept telling me. But he sure can cry louder than you ever could. He said it sounded like a car or train horn. This would be the first time I had ever seen him.
As soon as I saw the dark navy blue 1989 Ford Explorer that was reliable for my dad for 15 years and the car I have learned to love pull into view I knew my brother was in the back seat gargling in his own baby filth, I couldn't wait.
A normal reaction would be to get out of the car, wave and wait until it pulled up beside me. Into the side of the El Rancho parking lot. You could just smell the food from El Rancho. They were clearly making bread or pie. But I was so enthusiastic that I slumped down into my seat and pretended to be invisible (when I was little I used to pretend that I was invisible and I used to make a buzz sound but now that I was in 5th grade I left out the noises). A whole field of butterflies in my stomach. I was so nervous I didn't know whether I wanted this intruder in my family or not. I guess it didn't make any difference. He was going to be in the family whether I wanted it or not. The way I see it is even though he could be the most cute thing on the planet he still didn't do anything to earn my respect. You don't get tokens just for being born. I peeked my head over the bottom of the window just to get a slim idea of where dad's car (old Bessie) was. I was able to make out a large object gliding into the empty parking space. I quickly rushed back into hiding position.
Funny how over a million thoughts can go through your head in one second, but who's counting. I must have thought about over 1,000 scenarios just in this 5 seconds. I slid farther and farther into the crack of the seat hoping no one would look, no one would see. I suddenly allowed a terrible idea slip into my head. What if he doesn't like me? Just six words, but so powerful.
Knock, knock,knock,knock,knock,knock. The pounding woke me out of my little dream. I looked up to see my dad's face pressed up against the glass of the window.
"I should have thought of a better hiding place," I said quietly aloud.
"Open the door." He said to me.
I won't open it. I won't open it. I won't open it. I opened it.
"OK, get your coat, I'll grab your bags, Teri did you get the check, Eric don't forget your coat. Teri!" Dad was babbling on. Not listening to a word they say I walk right through the middle of them. They didn't seem to notice. All I could hear was the bickering of what right now wasn't my parents, they were just the ex-couple.
OK Eric, it's cool. Your looking sharp. I felt confident. I grasped the plastic black bumpy handle and pulled. The door swung open. I could instantly smell the horrible smell of Bayliss. The bickering grandma voices stopped but their mouths were still open and moving. Nothing they said mattered, nothing they did mattered. All that mattered was caring for the pink chubby face. All that mattered was Bayliss.
Though the first ride to the house was quite strange what with me staring at the baby and not saying anything at all even though dad was trying to get me to talk the whole time and all, I would not trade anything in the world for it. I think the reason why my brother and I have such a close bond was because of that day. If you were to take a close look at my life today you would vaguely understand what I am talking about. No one can take that day away from me. We will always have a great relationship.
Now he was 18 months and he had lived his entire life like this. There was a slight flaw in his life plan though, Bayliss went to day care after school.
After a hard day at school I was content on being able to see my baby.
"Why do the teachers always bug me?" I thought while coming home from school. I glided into the garage on my bike. "Well at least I can still see Bayliss."
I wheeled my bike in between the car and the wall of the garage. I opened the door to the house quickly. But I found no baby crying, or no mother trying to calm him. I found no father waiting for me. The house was surprisingly quiet. I must have searched the entire house, backyard and all the house about 3 or 4 times. While sitting in the dining room I looked up and noticed a note written to me on the white board. It read, "Eric, I had an important meeting to attend. I'll behome at 6 and so will Katie. P.S. Bayliss is at day care.
The dreaded word=DAY CARE.
I knew that any day care would not give him the fun and attention that he deserved. I walked straight outside and grabbed my bike, lifted it over the side of the car and rode off. I rode up the street thinking about the hard day I had at school and how the only thing that was not going to change was seeing Bayliss right then. I rode down the street, passed the turn off to the school and went the opposite direction. Why didn't dad call or say something in advance? What if he's not having fun? What if they're not treating my baby with the respect that he deserves? I do respect him, I thought.
Funny how over a million thoughts can go through your head in one second, but who's counting.
I was starting to get tired. But I was not close to backing down. Discouragingly, cars were roaring past me, but I still tugged behind like a tug boat lost at sea. Only I wasn't lost. I knew right where I was. Round and round, I kept peddling. I was feeling faint. I had biked about a mile away from the house but the tug boat kept tugging. I must have taken a wrong turn. Miles away from what I once recognized, but the tug boat was still tugging. The only difference is I'm not lost. I had said that so many times it was as if I was reciting it. Two miles and no break. Suddenly, everything stopped. Nothing moved. All I could hear was me panting. I fell off my bike and hit the cement. Cars stopped and people were watching. My body was numb. The tug boat stopped, the only difference is I'm not lost. But I was lost. Just then, I was at the day care. Babies smiling, Bayliss sitting next to me. Toys were everywhere, cribs lined the wall. It was dark now. Past 6. And yet there I was sitting by Bayliss. No worries at all. We looked out the window, there were red and blue flashing lights and a figure on the ground next to a bike. The boat was now tugging again.
HHHHHuuuuuuu. I opened my mouth and gasped for breath. There was a police officer kneeling above me.
"Eric, Eric are you OK?"
"I just wanted to see Bayliss."
Everyone was there. Katie, dad, all my friends and Bayliss. I stood up and grabbed Bayliss and hugged him tight.
They put me in the car and sarted to drive home. We turned the corner and I saw the day care. We drove closer and I looked at the window. I saw me holding Bayliss's hand and waving it around. I vanished and there was no one there. I leaned over, grabbed Bayliss and hugged him tight.
"I would die for you Bayliss. I would die for that pink chubby face."
THE END
Poem by Eric Grove, December 2000 (9 years old)
I AM A WONDER
I am like a ferret
Snooping, loving, napping
I am like a cheetah
Leaping, spying, striking
I am like a tree
Weeping, haunting, calling
I am like a rock
Boring, sparkling, sitting
I am a boy
Playing, smiling, living
|
Tributes and Condolences
Add to favorites 
