I remember holding the telephone, sobbing hysterically. My brain was trying to tell me I was wrong; this couldn't be happening again. My heart was already breaking into pieces. Fear was rampaging through my body.

September 1, 2008 - It was a beautiful Labor Day weekend. Even the weather had cooperated with blue skies, sunshine and 85-degree temperature. If I had been able to foresee the future, I would have been praying for a tremendous thunderstorm. Instead, our family was about to face some of the darkest days of our lives.

Picking up the telephone, I glanced to see who was calling. My youngest daughter's name appeared on the caller I.D. A smile crossed my face as I said "Hello".

"Mom, DJ is missing. They think he drowned in some pond." She was screaming into the telephone and I tried to convince myself I hadn't heard what she said. The terror in her voice sent chills through my body.

"What? What do you mean he's missing?" Fear was already gripping my throat. I listened for an answer, struggling to remain calm. After all, I am the mother of five children and seven grandchildren and someone is always doing something they probably shouldn't be doing.

"One of DJ's friends just called here and said they think DJ drowned in a pond over in Chicory Ridge."

"Where's Wendy?" Wendy is my oldest daughter and mother of five. Her oldest son, DJ, a senior in high school, was the object of our concern. He'd done a lot of crazy stunts growing up and my mind struggled to convince me  this was merely another one. My heart wasn't so sure.

"She jumped in the car and headed for Chicory Ridge. Told me to call you." She was crying and so was I.

"Are they sure he was in there? Maybe he got out and no one saw him." I was grasping at straws, but at that moment, I had nothing else to hold on to but hope. My fingers were gripping the telephone so tight my hand ached.

"They saw him go under, mom."

"No...no, this can't be happening. Not again." The realization that my grandson had probably had a swimming accident washed over me. We had already buried my son because of a swimming accident. Why would God let this happen again? It had to be a mistake! This couldn't be happening to our family again.

"What are we going to do?" She was choking back her tears, gulping for air. "He can't be in that pond, he can't."

"I'm on my way." I was crying so hard, I couldn't talk. Choking on my words, I repeated myself, "I'm on my way" and hung up the telephone. Sobbing hysterically, I fell into my husband's arms, attempting to tell him what was happening.

For the next seven hours, our family stood at the edge of the pond, crying, pleading, hugging, denying, and watching water rescue units from twelve-area crews search the pond. Ten rescue boats staffed with divers and search dogs patrolled the retention pond, searching and dragging the bottom for DJ's body. An ambulance was parked at the water's edge. Hundreds of friends, family and neighbors stood on the hillside, straining to see through the thicket of trees, hoping he'd be rescued. My husband and I sat on a blanket next to the pond; my eyes glued to the water's surface, praying for a miracle.

After three days of relentless searching, the Roscoe Fire Chief made the decision to halt the recovery and bring in two giant pumps from a local construction business. Construction of a temporary gravel road was required in order to move the gigantic pumps near the water's edge. Throughout the day and night, thousands of gallons of water pumped from the pond into nearby fields as the recovery teams walked the circumference of the pond, looking for some sign of his body.

September 4, 2008 - My birthday.  At 7:12 A.M., the recovery team removed DJ's body from the bottom of the pond. When he had tried to surface by kicking his feet off the bottom, he couldn't. The silt and grass reacted like a quicksand, sucking him in, unwilling to let go. God had answered our prayers. After 4 days, we could begin the grieving process and mourn the loss of DJ.

My beloved grandson's resting place is beside my son. I know someday, we will see them standing side by side, waving and smiling at us. Until then, I will remember him. I will remember his smile. I will remember his laugh. I will remember how he would always tell us, "You know you love me." I will remember the pain and the grief. I will remember the hundreds of strangers who offered to help with the search, brought food, donations, offered condolences and prayers.

At times, I would love to forget the pain, the sorrow, and the emptiness, but that would be forgetting a part of DJ. Therefore, with tear stained face, I remember everything, but most of all, I remember his love.