the surprise

Melinda Kitchen had smelled things before.

She’s an elementary school teacher, a wife, and a mother. She had smelled things before.

But this was different. Her reaction was different, but not unfamiliar. Something was up.

“I was at school and had a feeling when an odor gave me the urge to puke,” she said.

That “feeling” was spot on. Pregnant. Again. This was not supposed to happen.  

“My immediate reaction was terror,” she said. “I was a week away from turning 40, and I had a 15-year-old daughter and a 12-year-old son. How were we going to manage a newborn? What was my husband Matt going to think? How would the kids feel about this?

“We were planning for college and high school for Mikayla and Bryant,” she said. “We were definitely in a trajectory toward the empty nest, not a restart.”

Nine months and several tears (of joy and stress) later, Atlas John-Thomas Kitchen was born at Via Christi Hospital in Pittsburg. The entire Kitchen family was overjoyed.

He wasn’t in his parents’ plans, but maybe the parents weren’t in control.

“The day we took Atlas home was the five-year anniversary of my father’s death,” Kitchen said. “I don't think that was a coincidence. From the very beginning when we found out the due date was in September, the month we lost my dad and the day before my mom's birthday, I was certain that this was sent straight from heaven. We joked that my dad conspired with God to give us a reason to find joy in a month that had been so full of sadness for five years.”

Melinda adored her father. John Bryant was everything to her. He was a real life superhero.

“My father was the epitome of strength,” she said. “I remember thinking that my dad could do anything. He was talented and revered by many for his expertise. He was simple but so excruciatingly talented. He always did the right thing, no matter what. And though he had many flaws, his gentle kindness surpassed them all. I adored my dad, and he returned it unconditionally.”

John loved horses, loved to ride. He loved to teach his kids to ride. The horses were part of the family.

“My dad's passion was horses and animals,” Melinda said. “I loved riding with my dad. He started us all very young. I think I was less than a week old the first time he took me for a ride. We never talked too much -- but just enough -- and I always felt so peaceful on our rides.

“Horses were what brought our family together,” she said. “We competed or worked on horseback so it was something we all had in common. Having horses also taught us compassion and trust for an animal that had the same feelings for us. I learned how to deal with death and hard decisions. My dad always said we were responsible to do right by our animals because they trusted us to provide for them. We should never let them suffer and we should never neglect them.”

It was Grandparents Day. Meadowlark Elementary School threw a party to celebrate, and Melinda’s parents came up to spend that time with her and the kids. Later that night, the family had dinner and started preparing to celebrate her mother’s birthday.

It was a Friday.

“Then Monday morning the world completely stopped for us.”

Melinda was at work. The phone rang.

“I was at school, in between groups,” she said. “I was teaching ESOL at Meadowlark at that time. My mom called frantically saying that he had collapsed and she was doing CPR and the ambulance was on its way.”

Nothing was the same again.

“It's hard,” she said. “Whether the loss is expected or unexpected it is so hard. You feel like your world has come to a complete stop and feel so bitter that the rest of the world continues to move while your world has collapsed.”

The world does keep turning. And so did Melinda’s family. They may have lost their rock, but in turn, they became harder, stronger.

For so long, kids grow up relying on their parents. This time, the roles were reversed.

“My dad was my mother’s whole world,” Melinda said. “She left her family and everything she ever knew to move to Missouri so he could be back with his family. Losing him meant losing everything she lived for. She had to learn to live a new life for herself.

“My brothers and I became the caretakers while she healed her heart and soul and found a new ‘normal’ for herself,” she said. “My brothers and I became closer because we had to have tough discussions with each other. It also made us very keenly aware that none of our days are promised. Our family as a whole came together in a big way. My uncles were so close with my dad and now they are just as invested in our lives as our dad would have been.”

“Sometimes I cried in the shower,” Melinda said, “but sometimes I cried with my children so that they knew they could feel sad and express it.”

She knew she had to help her children through this, and part of that process is teaching them that this stuff happens. And it’s completely natural to be sad, to hurt. Pain is not always a bad thing.

“This is a powerful opportunity to show your children how to grieve,” she said. “If you hide your grief, your anger, your tears … then your children will have an unreal expectation of what it is like to feel when we have losses that rock our world. The best advice I received was from a former pastor and friend who said that the grief we feel is directly related to how much love we felt for that person.

“I really loved my dad, so my sadness was just as big and that was okay.”

Atlas wasn’t Atlas at first. The family couldn’t decide on a name. In fact, he was nearly a day old before everyone agreed what to call him.

“My daughter Mikayla offered the name Atlas as a choice when we were discussing names,” Melinda said. “Names mean a lot to us so I asked her why she chose Atlas. She said that Atlas was the Greek titan that dared to defy Zeus and was condemned to hold up the heavens as punishment. She said it made her think of Papa.”

Bryant, now big brother, suggested John Thomas, a combination of Papa John and Uncle Thomas.

“Bryant and my dad were best buddies, and my Uncle Thomas is a huge part of his life, too,” Melinda said. “So I offered the hyphenated version for his middle name.”

On Sept. 10, 2017, Atlas John-Thomas Kitchen went home … five years to the day since his grandfather made his own journey home.

Neither journey was planned or expected. 

And that’s life.

And that’s death.

“There is a time for everything … grief and sadness, joy and excitement,” she said. “Sometimes they overlap. Only God knows the plan he has for you. You can try to be in control but you really aren't. Sometimes blessing are wrapped up in the most surprising packages.”