When I was released from the USC Memorial Hospital, I did not have any kind of assigned counseling or case worker.  I didn’t have a ‘mentor’ figure or really did much research the first couple of years into my recovery.  At the time I did not think it was necessary, because since I was released, surely, I was fine.  So, I focused on my clients, writing my thoughts and memories and starting my ‘married life’.

 

Somewhere along the way I saw an interview about the Chicken noodle soup for the Soul, and another book, all about little stories that had some ‘common thread’.  I sifted through all the stories, some mine and some other people, and other than trying to have a positive outcome or a lesson, I could not find a ‘common’ thread.  But I kept writing them and asking for more.   I even found some stories from the news or from old clippings or notes I had in one of my “books of knowledge”.  These were journal like books that just had all kinds of stories, notes, memorabilia that I had just saved and filed over the years.

 

I just kept writing and giving it some prayerful thought as to what to do with it all and how to make it a “thank you” as it was intended.  To be able to say, here is the story you shared, with a bunch of others. Or something like that.

 

I figured with some guidance from God, maybe it could be turned into something ‘readable’.  Otherwise, I would just be writing a lot of ‘thank you’ letters.

 

At this point, I thought my life had been pretty interesting and very blessed, for the most part, but I did not think it was ‘brilliant enough’ or a home run right out of the park to make a ‘readable book’.  So, it would have to be fiction, and somehow strung together, with some of the stories I had already written down spread throughout it.

 

As a child I had kept the solution to my ‘situation’ to myself because I decided when it was right, I was just going to walk off into the sunset and not look back.  Also, it had always stuck in my mind when I was a child and blurted out how I wanted to be like my action figure Torpedo, and save the others, while being raked over the coals for something that was scoffed at, and my idea was ripped apart.  So, I just kept it buried and to myself from then on.

 

So, I decided there had to be some way I could use some of the stack of stories, write a fictional story, create a character that I could tie some stories to, and make that character become what I had dreamed of.  It’s not my story, so I can use parts of mine, parts of others but make the main character his own story.  It’s fiction, so there is no need to write under an alias or a pseudonym, I’m not going around saying “I’m a Navy SEAL, and this is my story.”  My life is pretty easily accessible, and available.

 

Eventually I would have to come up with a name, initially I was using “BOB”, only because it was easy to type…that lasted a day.  So, I kept writing everything else I could that did not involve the main character and worked on putting the pieces in some kind of order.

 

At some point my name block came undone when I was sitting at one of the pubs I visited with friends and fellow tradesmen for sporting events, paperwork and pints with a side of food.  I was alone, finished my emails and paperwork and was watching a Red Sox game….and even though I had been reminded he no longer plaid for the Sox, Josh Beckett came to mind.  And contrary to some theories, that is how the name of the ‘hero’ became Beckett.  At that moment, I had totally forgotten my brother had named his son Beckett after the same ball player.

 

There are plenty of famous people, movies and tv shows that have the name ‘Beckett’, I figured it’s a name, and there was no agenda behind the name and it’s a fictional book.  So, until otherwise I figured I would stick to it and continue on my path.  At some point I looked up the name of ‘Beckett’, it has a lengthy history to it, with a lot of ties to faith, which helped me make the decision to use it.  The more I learned, the more I felt it was the right one, the right name.  And I kept writing away.

 

At some point Gladys and I went to visit my mom who was in town visiting my brother and his family while staying there.  I was still getting my bearings, and I had not seen much of my brother or his family.  I still was getting them back into my stubborn memory.  I do remember that the hardest part was Josh and Nicole would not be there, so it was just the kids.  I was afraid I wouldn’t know what to do, what to say and just freeze the whole time.

 

I was also concerned they wouldn’t remember me, why would they?  I was just another adult, that isn’t their parents.  They were kids and ‘had much better stuff to focus on’.  On the way out the door of our home, I caught a look at some photos of Ruby and Beckett at our wedding.  It stunned me, they were small people, that talked like people.  That is what I thought about the whole drive to see them and my mom.  These are some of the types of thoughts that go on throughout the day of a TBI Survivor.

 

At Josh & Nicole’s home, eventually my mom, Gladys, Ruby and Beckett were all outside enjoying the evening, the stars, some music and a fire pit.  After a bit, Beckett got over excited and started playing ruff, so my mom put him a time out.  We all chatted while Ruby played and Beckett sat somberly by the picnic table, alone, away from everyone.  When his couple minutes of quiet was up, my mom asked me to go and let him know he could play again.

 

I went over to him, and called out his name several times, and told him once his time out was done, but he didn’t budge.  He just took the car he had in his hand and now that he could play, he ran it over and over the tabletop, not acknowledging me.  I was about to walk away, as I had no idea what else to do or say.  He paused and didn’t look up as he slowly rolled his car to a stop, “Uncle Jon, do you love me?”  I didn’t know what to say, I knew deep down I did, I just couldn’t recall how it ‘felt’.  So, I told him what I knew, “With all my heart.”  He left the toy car on the table and walked to me, I knelt down and we hugged.

 

That moment stuck with me for days, and it still has.  It showed I would have to have faith in those close to me, that they were and are expressing their true feelings, and at some point, I acknowledged their emotions, and I ‘felt’ something in return.  Now I would just have to re-learn it, to experience it, and must have faith in that it is real and true and would come back to me, hopefully.

 

I hadn’t written anything more than proposals for my construction business in 20 years, but over time the book started to come together.  There are true family stories, altered a bit to compress timelines and out of respect.  Stories with people’s stories of their Faith and Family, who at some points have been a focal point in my life.  There are stories that are someone else’s, but it is something in their life that is important to them, and they passed the story onto me to share.

 

The Military aspects are told out of respect for those that do and have served to defend our country, and other countries, written to honor them for their service.  Some are completely fabricated, to fill a gap and show some characters inner being or tell part of their story.  Others are pieces from something that is some piece of history, altered or a bunch of pieces put together, to tell a story.

 

It felt like I was bringing back the old and forging the new, in a way that I never would have found or thought up if it wasn’t for the accident.  And this forging is something that I still and always will work on.

 

Telling the Story of Beckett has helped me in my journey to rediscover my life again. It has helped me find some of the better parts of the past and helped strengthen me to forge the new in a better way and more faith. And if it was not for that ‘accident’, and my recovery I wouldn’t have what I do hold.

 

I probably wouldn’t have picked up writing again, in the way that I have, if it wasn’t for the accident and the discovery of Beckett.  I didn’t write this for “fortune and glory”, I wrote it to put all those pieces of stories together and say, ‘thank you’ to all those that helped through my recovery and since, it just came out as ‘Beckett’.

 

I hope by telling the Story of Beckett, some people will learn along the way what a traumatic brain injury is like, and how it can alter your life dramatically, even if you walk away pretty well intact as you were before the injury.  Maybe some people will learn how Post Traumatic Stress, is something that challenges many people face for a reason you might not even be aware of and how each person facing it is effected differently.

 

Maybe some people will find even a small piece in the words that helps them to face a challenge in their own life, overcome it and find their peace.