How I Lost A Mother and Gained A Brother
By: Travis Nicholson
Tags: Grief, Funerals, Grief And Loss, Hope, Family

Sometimes life throws you for a loop.

The miracle of the century happened to me in the summer of 2015, only to be followed months later by the worst day of my life.

My brother had been separated from us for over a decade. As a five year old, he was put into foster care and then adopted to a family that didn’t allow outside contact. We had no clue where he was, or how he was doing.

Some context: My parents divorced when I was young and I grew up primarily with my dad. My mom went on to have another son when I was 8 years old. He was my half-brother and his name was Jordan- which I liked because my favorite basketball player at the time was Michael Jordan (This was 1996 and the Chicago Bulls were red hot!).

I met Jordan’s father once, he seemed like a kind guy. But he didn’t want the responsibilities of fatherhood, so he ran off months before Jordan was born. This forced my mom into life as a single mother. She did the best she could, but that’s a really hard gig. She loved well, cared deeply.

My mom dealt with bipolar disorder among other things, and this created an ongoing inconsistency in our relationship. There have definitely been long gaps that I didn’t hear from her, while other times I had to place boundaries on the number of phone calls because she wanted so much connection. During the season she was raising Jordan, we both lived in the Houston area, so we were fairly close. I would often visit and stay with them at their apartment. Usually every other weekend. I was there for Jordan’s birthday parties. I sat with him and watched Dragon Tales. I was there on the frightful day when he poked his eye with a butter knife. (Why was he even playing with a butter knife?)

I was his big brother, and he my little brother.

I then remember getting a phone call that my mom was in the hospital and my brother was being taken away. I don’t recall being too emotional to the news, but everything about the moment is seared in my memory: where I was, time of day, what I was doing. I must’ve felt it. I was 13, he was only 5, and I would never see him again.

So I thought…

Fast forward 12 years, and I’m living as a pastor in Raleigh, North Carolina. I’m learning about the importance of prayer and how God hears our prayers to accomplish the impossible. I started to pray for Jordan, adding him to my family prayer list. One particular day, I am praying for him and utter these words:

“Lord, save my brother and connect him back to our family.”

Honestly, I was just throwing a Hail Mary to heaven and not really expecting much in return. It’s hard to tell which prayers are faith-filled and which ones are routine. But this one felt like it was God-inspired, God-initiated and God-empowered.

The next day in rural Pennsylvania, my 18-year-old brother decided to search for my mom on Facebook. It’s something he had done plenty of times, desperately looking for family. It’s a miracle in itself that he remembered her name from such a young age. Nobody told it to him, he just remembered. He searched “Jennifer Ruffin” and there she was. Waiting as a search result, a simple profile picture that held the promise of long awaited connection. He reaches out.

That evening, my mom and brother had an emotional, tear-filled phone call that lasted over three hours. Can you imagine having a conversation with your son after losing him a decade earlier? Her deepest desire was being realized. Can you imagine having a conversation with your mom having only faint memories of her in the past? To have never experienced family, but then hear the voice of a loving mother on the other line? His deepest desire was being realized.

It was a miracle.

The next morning, I wake up to this Facebook message…

“Hey, it’s your brother Jordan.”

Mind blown! I never knew if this day would actually come. I immediately call my mom and celebrate.

“For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.” Luke 15:24

We were overjoyed that we had reconnected with Jordan. It truly was a dream come true. However it was difficult to hear that his adoption situation had been rocky. His parents were emotionally distant and borderline abusive. He had been kicked out of his house and was living in a friends spare bedroom, having no contact with his adopted parents for the past 8 months.

We make plans for him to visit me in Raleigh. He comes down for a July 4th weekend and we have a blast together, it was surreal hanging out with a brother.

The next month, we take a trip to Arizona to visit my mom.

I knew this would be intense. Mother and son reunited after 12 years.

I arrive a few hours before Jordan. My mom and I anxiously wait at the airport. And then we get the text that he’s landed. We go to closest point we can get before security. Jordan turns the corner, and the moment my mom lays eyes on him, she lets out a scream of joy and runs and gives him an embrace that lasted minutes.

Jordan spends the next week with my mom in Arizona.

They ask questions, share stories, and form a new bond of relationship. One week to catch up on so much lost time. The euphoric sense that this was a miracle moment was still in the air.

Reconnection. Family bonding. Establishment. A true dream come true.

And then…

One month later, I receive a phone call from my mom’s sister in Arizona.

“Travis… your mom…. Passed away last night”

Heart pounding. “What? How?”

“We’re not sure exactly. Her heart stopped as she was sleeping last night. She didn’t wake up. I’m so sorry Travis.”

I calmly thank her for calling and hang up the phone. I drop to my knees and burst into tears, heaving for what felt like a half hour. I don’t know if I’ve ever cried so hard. After a few minutes, I come to the realization that it’s my job to share the news with Jordan. What would I say? How would he take it?

I knew that I had to be strong. I had to be clear. I had to be loving.

“Jordan, I need to share something with you. But first, I want you to know that I love you and I’m with you and everything is going to be okay…”

Everything would be okay. After the initial shock wore off, I felt a strange sense of peace regarding my mom’s passing. I’ve learned in my journey that God is the author of life, and I can find rest in His sovereignty even when I don’t understand. And I didn’t understand. How did she die? Why now?

We fly back to Arizona for the funeral. At the airport, we walk past the spot where the beautiful reunion had happened just a month prior. We tearfully connect with family members and work on funeral arrangements.

It was also during this time that I learned more of the specifics of my mom’s passing and her overall health condition. Without going into detail, I will just say that her years of health trouble finally caught up to her.

The funeral was beautiful. Thankful to those who sent flowers and made the event possible.

I performed the service, including a eulogy celebrating my mom’s life and describing the wonderful qualities of her life.

“My mom, Jennifer Ruffin, was a woman of deep love and compassion. She cared deeply for every person in this room. I hope for this time to be a celebration of her life and legacy. Though we are saddened by the circumstance, funerals are a great time to celebrate the good of a person’s life. I know that I speak for everyone here when I say that I’m thankful for the time that I got to spend with my mother. And I look forward to re-uniting with her on the other side.”

Funerals are hard, but important. The closing of the casket and the burial provide a sense of closure that you can only experience in the moment. The finality of death becomes a reality that you face head on.

They asked me what to put on my mom’s tombstone. Without second thought, I knew exactly what was the one thing she wanted to be remembered for…

And so we found ourselves as two newly discovered brothers. Missing our mother. The joy of connection blended with the despair of loss. Our lives turned upside down, in more ways than one.

We move forward.

Jordan comes to Raleigh and we lived together for 8 months, before making his way back to Houston. Our relationship hasn’t always been easy, but I’m thankful. In him, there’s glimpses of Mom that I wouldn’t otherwise see.

In pain, I’ve chosen to be thankful.

Thankful for the time that I had with my mom. Thankful for the days ahead with my brother.

I know that’s what she would’ve wanted.