Molly K. Martin is a dear friend of Nancy’s who found a way to gather and share the good, even around great loss. Experience her stories.

“Steve, I’m headed outside to set up,” I call out to my husband. It’s 7 p.m. on June 23, 2016. On beautiful summer evenings like this one, Steve and I move to our patio to enjoy the outdoors.

My cell phone rings. It’s my daughter-in-law of almost eight months, Stacey.

“Molly, is Steilyn with you and Steve?” Stacey asks sounding concerned.

“No, Stace, we haven’t talked to or seen Steilyn today. Is everything OK?” I ask.

There is a pause and she says, “I’ve left him several messages, but he hasn’t returned my calls. He should be home by now as we have plans for this evening.”

We end the conversation with my believing he is probably busy finishing up a project and forgot the time.

Twenty minutes later Stacey calls again. I answer the call thinking, “Looks like he made it home,” but what I hear is a nearly hysterical Stacey saying Barnes-Jewish Hospital called. Steilyn is in the hospital. She has no idea what has happened or if he is hurt.

“Can you come to the hospital?” she asks.

“Absolutely,” I respond. I inform Steve of my conversation with Stacey and tell him that I am going to Barnes-Jewish to meet her.

Steve has outpatient surgery scheduled for 6 a.m. the next morning, Friday, June 24. He has been home all afternoon taking the prep meds for his surgery and is unable to go with me to the hospital. I assure him I’ll be in touch as soon as I know more.

As I drive toward the hospital, I begin my Hail Marys which is my go-to prayer in stressful moments. I am five minutes from home and approaching our parish, St. Elizabeth of Hungary, when my phone rings. I drive into the empty parking lot. As I answer the call, I hear Stacey crying uncontrollably. I try to make out her words through her distress.

“Is he OK? Is he alive?” I ask. I hear the nurse trying to talk to me on Stacey’s phone but Stacey is resisting. The call ends abruptly.

I call Steve to let him know that it sounds bad but I still have no facts. I tell him I will be in touch. I then call my sister, Mary Helen, and my sister-in-law, Mary Joseph, to let them know that Steilyn is in the hospital. l am confident they will alert the family.

As I pull out of the parking lot, Stacey calls again and says Steilyn is dead. He was in a car accident. She offers no other details. She remains on the line sobbing. My questions will have to wait until I can be at the hospital with her. I tell Stacey I will be there soon.

I call Steve, and I quickly tell him the unimaginable news that Steilyn is dead. There is a lengthy silence, then he falls apart and so do I.

There is something in all of us that empowers us to move forward when the unthinkable occurs. I have to keep it together so I can drive to the hospital.

I arrive at Barnes-Jewish around 7:50 p.m. and report to the reception desk. I ask to see Steilyn Martin. The receptionist cannot find his name. I explain that his wife called me and said he was there. I add, “She also said he was dead.”

Several minutes later a young man appears and escorts me to my son. Steilyn is listed as a John Doe because they did not have a name for him when he was brought to the hospital. I’m taken into the bowels of the hospital. There are people lined up on either side of the hallway, none of whom I recognize. Later I will learn that I did indeed know these people; they were my family.

We stop at a door, and I am told to enter the room. Inside I am given time alone with my son; my only child. He is dressed in the suit he put on that morning. Because of the massive internal bleeding, there is no visible blood. His body is like a rag doll as his bones were crushed in the accident.

As I stand there looking at his shattered body, I flash back to Steilyn as a 3-year-old. It was just the two of us then, and it would remain that way for the next 17 years. Steilyn was my world as we navigated through life. I loved him with every fiber of my body. When Steve, a widower with no children, and I married, Steilyn was in college. How blessed we were to have this fine man join our small family. Steve and Steilyn became good friends. I cherish my memories of Steve, an attorney, and Steilyn, while in law school, debating various aspects of the law.

The funeral was the second Saturday after Steilyn’s death to allow for family and friends to travel to St. Louis. Because of Steilyn’s age, 35, the visitation was expected to be quite large, and it was.

We were all devastated for the days and weeks that followed Steilyn’s passing. The question “How could this have happened?” was a part of every conversation. Steve and I, broken and bruised, were loved and cared for by our families, friends and neighbors.

The beautiful thing about life is that it triumphs over death. The November after my son’s death, Steilyn’s cousin, Ben, and his wife, Kate, gave birth to their baby boy. His name is Jackson Steilyn Martin. I was deeply touched and humbled by this tribute to my son.

It was Jack’s grand entrance into the world that inspired the Steilyn Stories Book series. Stories and books were an integral part of Steilyn’s life. When I wasn’t reading a book to Steilyn at night before bed, I was regaling him with made-up stories. As a former teacher, I taught creative writing to fifth and sixth graders. Writing books was a natural way for me to celebrate Steilyn.

My first book, The Sleepover, was a thank you to Ben and Kate. It featured Steilyn and his cousin Ben having a fun adventure. I found such joy and closure in writing that I often refer to it as my self-imposed therapy.

Shorty after completing The Sleepover, I decided to write additional children’s books to memorialize Steilyn. I prepared a strategy that outlined a plan to publish more Steilyn books. Each book would highlight Steilyn as a child enjoying happy, carefree times with his young cousins.

Since Steilyn’s death there have been many months of writing, pausing, learning and grieving. During this time, I’ve taken classes on self-publishing, creative writing and graphic design, and I’ve watched numerous “how-to” videos. More importantly, I’ve come to understand that there is no answer to “How could this have happened?” I’ve learned to embrace the pain and to keep going by praying through the hurt.

In 2018, I began working with a wonderful graphic designer on my second book, The Cave. She is busy with a full-time job but I hope to publish it by summer 2021. The Cave is based on one of my made-up stories that I told Steilyn.

In early 2020 Steve suggested I reach out to our community college’s art department to find an art student who would be interested in doing the illustrations for my next book. Mary Claire is the art student who agreed to work with me. She has changed my life. Mary Claire has completed the illustrations for The Camping Trip, my third book, and she is working on my fourth book, Old Dutch.

It’s been more than four years since Steilyn’s death. Writing the Steilyn books helps me accept his loss and brings me much-needed peace. Additionally, writing these books evokes beautiful memories and reminds me of the incredible life Steilyn enjoyed.