“I saw my parents go through it and knew there was no getting over it,” McHenry said. “It’s a lifetime sentence that stays with you. For my parents, that was 1973, and people didn’t talk about grief. You were supposed to just move on.”
For McHenry, grief involved vulnerability, openness and a touch of moving on without denying that she’d never actually move on. It sounds complicated because it is.
“There’s no protocol,” McHenry said. “For me, I felt adamant about honoring Jamie’s memory and not letting this tragedy overshadow the beautiful life he had, which is a lot easier said than done because you have to process the fact that he’s never going to be here anymore. That’s a tough, tough pill to swallow.”
While not here in person, the foundation, started less than a year after his death, allows Jamie to live on.
“We had all these young, 13-year-old boys — these friends of Jamie’s — were looking to us to show them that we didn’t want Jamie’s memory buried in time,” McHenry said.
McHenry looked to the Trautwein family, whose son, Will, had died by suicide. The family started the Will to Live Foundation to help prevent teenage suicide.
“They were a beacon of hope on how to start a foundation and honor Jamie’s memory like they did while still moving forward and having it become a positive thing, rather than focusing on such a tremendous tragedy,” McHenry said.
It began with an equipment drive to help kids interested in lacrosse who couldn’t afford the necessary gear. People came out to help, honoring Jamie and helping others. It didn’t stop there. Then, a friend and mother of one of Jamie’s friends and lacrosse teammates suggested a 5K to raise money to support local youth sports in his honor.
The concept of organizing one was new to McHenry. The first year, the race capped registration at 500 participants because of the affected neighborhoods along the route. Seven hundred people showed up anyway.
“It just makes you feel so good — everybody’s there, remembering Jamie,” McHenry said. “Jamie had his lacrosse brothers, whom he loved and adored, and those families rallied around us. That’s what helped me.”
The Rocket Shot 5K continues today. The foundation also supports Team 8, a club team named for the uniform number Jamie once wore — a number no player on the team takes. Youth players from 14 schools in Georgia, Florida and Tennessee participate in numerous tournaments locally and out of state.
“It’s been a great program, and it’s allowed us to meet so many families,” McHenry said. “It’s been cathartic for our family.”
Also cathartic? Taking part in writing her part of a new book about grief, co-authored with 13 other bereaved mothers. “The Warrior Moms,” they call themselves. They met in a support group in North Atlanta.
“We realized, ‘We can help other people,’” McHenry said. “This has become my life ministry to help other bereaved parents — not that I ever wanted to, because the price I had to pay was excruciating. Nobody gets it like we do. I’m sorry, but even [psychiatrists], unless you’ve lost a child, you will never understand what it’s like to go through this. That was my mission and is the mission of many other women.”
If Jamie were here, what would he make of all of this? Kids can become famously bashful about their parents, especially during the tween and teen years, as they naturally start to pull away and assert their independence. Christine thinks her son would give her the ‘W’ on this one, though.
“I can totally see him being like, ‘That’s so cool. That team is for me,’” she said, deepening her voice as she attempted the best impersonation of her son. It’s a goofy moment amid an emotionally charged conversation. Time is one of the funniest things of all, though.
“It’s weird, you know, because, of course, he’ll always be 13, right?” McHenry said.
And there’s no getting around the tragedy of that – or the good that managed to come of it because of a grieving mother’s resilience and lacrosse community’s rally cry.
“It sucks to be in these shoes, but I know we’re making him proud,” McHenry said. “I learned from my own brother’s death that you have to live your life the best you can, regardless of this tremendous weight you carry.”
Because time is funny, tricky and all we have. It’s the essence of the foundation’s rally cry to “Live for Jamie.”
“Live for Jamie means to live unbounded and to the fullest,” McHenry said. “And keep Jamie close to your heart. I hope the interest in his story never dies because that is what keeps us going. Whether it’s Team 8, the Rocket Shot 5K or the scholarships we give out, I want those to continue. As long as we’re alive, he’ll stay alive.”
