Austin Lavicka Luehring

My beautiful one-and-only son, Austin, From your Mm (Mom),

My life truly began the day you were born April 13, 1997. You came into this world two and a half weeks early, a healthy 7lb 7oz beautiful baby boy. I’m so grateful you couldn’t wait to enter this world; it gave me two and a half more weeks with you on this earth. I was blessed to have you in my life for 27 years but my heart cries out for more time.

At a very young age you learned how to serve others and that seemed to come to you naturally. You had a God-given gift to connect with people with a true servant’s heart. I am blessed with so many wonderful memories of you sharing yourself with people. They will never know how fortunate they were to share time with you. Helping so many people, at times your heart seemed too big for your body (“almost” 6 feet of you). Every person you met and all of God’s creatures you encountered were in some way blessed to have been in your presence. Even when you had very few material goods to give you made sure those around you (including all God’s creatures you cared for) did not go without.

I taught you how to ride my motorcycle in the Thrivent parking lot (ironically a short time later, you would find yourself in the IT department, helping solve/figure out complex problems). Prior to that I taught you how to drive my manual transmission vehicle and you drove us all the way back from North Dakota. You were a new driver but I knew I could fall asleep and trust you (just as I did on our most recent epic road trip to Naples and Nashville).

A couple of my friends took you flying/let you take controls. Eventually you learned to take off and land an airplane. Last year, again, you volunteered with me for the Young Eagles program at EAA/AirVenture. At the end of our shift, someone captured a very special candid photo of us, tired, with our arms around each other’s backs and watching the Canadian Snowbirds. I will get that made into poster size and put next to a poster of you running on the beach in Key Biscayne visiting your cousins. 

From fixing cars (detail oriented like a neurosurgeon), to home renovations like fixing the electronics on a nice but defective dishwasher and installing it (because your best friend, Liz, HAD to have one if you were to be roommates) you could turn the most unsightly places into castles. And you seemed to do every project out of love, for love.

Your friends tell me that you’re the one who first taught them how to give a “real” hug and now, my precious son, they can give me those hugs when I need them most. The gifts you lavished on so many are now returning to bless and comfort me at this most unimaginable time. In your 27 years you have left a legacy most people could only aspire to. You had no enemies. Only admirers. Everyone loved you, my son. 

The moment you were able to make sounds I knew God had blessed you with an angelic gift. Your beautiful high tenor voice could melt the hardest heart and bring us to tears. It was obvious to everyone, music and singing gave you great joy. I watched you perform with the Appleton Boys’ Choir and later in the men’s choir in high school. I remember a few years ago we were watching some of your past performances at Lawrence Chapel. You asked me to “zoom in” to watch you singing as you pointed out and admitted sometimes you hadn’t memorized all the lyrics to all the songs you were performing but were able to still sing the song convincingly. 

I’m now coming across cassette tapes of your little voice when you were very young and we were in the kitchen making cookies or pancakes (or some experiment with fresh snow and food coloring). I don’t think you knew how many times I actually turned on the tape recorder, but I’m so glad I did. Whenever you sang I made sure I recorded your voice because (to me) it was always like an angel singing; before your voice changed you could match Sara Brightman note for note. I have countless hours of recordings of you playing guitar and singing. Whenever I recorded you playing music with your friends or singing solo I made sure my phone was recording you but I was holding the phone to the side so I could make sure you knew that I was watching you sing with my eyes on you, versus a screen. 

While growing up you sometimes mentioned how other kids got to play video games (many violent in nature) and questioned why you weren’t allowed. We never had our TV on. You were raised without all these electronics, save for occasional movies, limited time with interactive learning DVDs/video games (which we literally played together with your hand on one part of the control and mine on the other). Several years ago (in one of the many homemade cards you made for me), you made it clear I could be tough on you (you even said there could have been less discipline) and wrote, “But thank you, Mom. I like how I turned out.” We were looking forward to playing one of those old games over Christmas, this year. I encouraged you to be curious about everything as we explored near and far parks (some with Luke, who was just as adventurous and fun as you with shenanigans), went on several road trips/airplane trips: Grand Canyon, Washington DC, West Virginia, several Florida beaches, California (to visit Rick, who became a person who showed you what it means to care for a mom; the second he found about you, he flew here, taking a break from touring to be here for me- still here), Falling water in PA (which was closed yet we somehow managed to give ourselves a unique personal tour of all we could – some of what happened need not be mentioned here), and countless trips to visit friends. You know I would love to mention every single one, but you “know” who I’m talking about, those who were “family” to us. 

You were the kid in school who sometimes got bullied but you also had the most incredible friends who understood you and never turned you in for the shenanigans you were capable of from time to time. I’m still not sure how the teachers found out it was you, but one day it was discovered that it was my son who electronically shut off and disabled the smart board in class…just because you got bored. When you were in middle school, people in our community (some with high-profile jobs) trusted you to help repair their computers. You were just happy to help (but also always looking for ways to have extra money for purchasing more electronics). A win situation for all. Later in high school you used your computer skills to help hack into the school records account and tweak a grade to help a friend. Ethical? Perhaps not but done with good intentions to help a desperate friend (or just to see if you had the skills to accomplish such a feat). Well after graduation you began sharing stories of some of your shenanigans and I questioned you as to why the school never let me know about these extracurricular “activities.” You matter-of-factly told me how you were able to set up my cell phone to not accept calls from Appleton North High School and were somehow able to reroute those calls to one of your good friends who would assume my identity and assure the school principal, “Austin will not go unpunished.” Stinker! But I am grateful you didn’t lead a boring life, and your intentions were always to help or just see how far you could go with mischief/make a memory with those you loved.

Several days before you passed you asked me to come to your work at the assisted memory/care facility because the residents you were caring for wanted to you hear you sing. I was a few minutes behind, so you called to make sure I was okay and on my way. When I arrived, I called and you came out to greet me. Instead of making me feel bad I was a little late you said, “It’s okay, Mom. I had started ‘Dust in the Wind’ and wasn’t happy with the intro., so your phone call interrupted me, and I can go in and start it over.” As always you made me feel everything was okay and we shared a chuckle. As you were about to start singing, I was about to get out my phone and record you as I always did but something told me not to record, rather just take in your beautiful voice and face (and the looks on everyone's faces as they smiled/once in a while sang along) as you played your guitar and sang. At the end of that night you asked me to sing with you and because I was so absorbed watching the special way you were interacting with the residents I had tears in my eyes/felt I couldn’t. You kept encouraging me to sing with you and I finally did, even messing up one of my own songs. But just like you, you kept nodding your head, encouraging me and we were able to sing…one last time… “Ring of Fire” By Johnny Cash. No matter what we were singing you could always find the perfect harmonies and that evening was no exception. When it was finally time for the residents to go to sleep you had to walk away for a bit and many of them came over to me and told me how wonderful and meaningful you were to them. Then as the rain fell outside, you asked if you could have my keys to go to my car and grab my umbrella so I would stay dry as you walked me to my car. I remember I told you that you’d get wet going back in but you just smiled your beautiful smile and said “It’s okay Mom.” You were always caring for me. There was something extra special about your voice that night; I had never heard you sound better and I let you know that. Later, you sent me a note saying “I’m so glad you could make it, Mom. It was wonderful singing with you and so nice to see you…I love you so very much. Best mom in this world!

How was I to know that this would be the very last time I would be blessed to hear you sing, my beautiful son?

Two days before you left this world, you asked for help as you were on your way to work, and some road debris had put a leak in your tire. Thankfully your roommate Will (what a blessing he has been) and I were able to bring what you needed to get your spare tire on to ensure you could get to work safely. I had brought you a rain poncho (which you said you didn’t need but knew I wouldn’t take no for an answer and let me do the “Mom” one more time). You had the most beautiful smile on your face when you got in my car and hugged me goodbye (my last one from you). I followed you over to the air pump and then on thehighway to your exit to work. When you got to work I left you a message and asked you if you had thanked God for how well everything had went (that you had been able to make it off the highway without incident). You replied almost immediately with a note that said, “I did, just before I pulled onto JJ (you had a heart emoji here). Thank you SO much mom…so blessed to have you and such a great roommate. I love you so much.” I replied, “You help so many people and it was wonderful you could get helped, today. Love you, best son, ever.” Make sure to read at least one Bible verse every evening before going to bed and thank God for your health/keeping you safe. Always follow his perfect plan and you will stay on the straight/narrow path to heaven. I want to see you there! (with two heart emojis).” You replied with a heart. 

A day before God took you home you did something you had never done before and sent me a screenshot sharing how long you had been on the phone with your best friend from high school, Liz. You two were even roommates for a while. You attached a message to me saying, “My heart…I’m SO blessed (followed by a heart emoji), 2 hours and 27 minutes of the best friendship therapy going both ways…so many laughs and deep conversation….ahh…” 39 minutes later you followed that with an edited accounting of that conversation (because of your attention to detail you wanted me to know it was actually 2 hours and 47 minutes) and wrote, “*47 Goodnight mom (with a heart emoji).” I’m so glad you and Liz were besties. I love her so much and will get hugs from you through her for the rest of my life. I will always feel your love when she is with me. 

On the morning of that most unimaginable day we talked (before we both went to work) as you were at the salvage yard to pickup some things for your car. We agreed that we missed going to the salvage yard, together. I sent a note to you about going back to college to finish getting your degree. My very last words to you were, “Every single day you’re at the place you’re at, you’re making someone’s world, better.”

There were times things got messy in your life and I know we spoke many times about Jesus and his love. Many years ago I gave you a Bible which you kept on your night stand. One evening I asked you to open that Bible and read Proverbs. That night you sent me this: “Proverbs 10:12 – Hatred stirs up conflict, but love covers all wrongs.” You wrote: “I finally feel at peace after reading through different verses in Proverbs, but this verse really spoke to me.” (with a heart emoji).

You left no mess in this world for me to clean up. Everything in your life was going in the best direction it ever had. You were healthy and happy.

I’m now forced to deal with the unimaginable and although my heart is broken with pain, I’m also able to smile every time I think of your heart, your sense of humor and hope that no matter what, things would always work out, knowing there is always someone else who (despite our current heartaches) doesn’t have it as good as we have it. We always had each other. 

I am blessed to be surrounded by friends and family who are doing their best to help fill a huge void in my heart today…andfor the rest of my life. Last night was one of the most difficult resignations to reality for me and with tear-filled eyes I turned to my Bible for peace. I prayed that God would give me his words to calm my soul. I cried for His mercy and prayed that I could just open my Bible to words of comfort and that God would provide exactly what I needed. And just as He has never failed me…this is what his Word spoke to me when I opened my Bible.

Psalms 116. The entire chapter will be committed to memory but one particular verse (15) – it was like a specific message to me from our Heavenly Father “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” After I was finished sharing this chapter with two of my brothers and Rick (all three, strong, God-fearing men) I looked down and found a tear drop had literally fallen on the word, “tears” in verse 5. 

On Mother’s Day and my birthday you gave me (per your tradition) homemade cards. These words are making me smile right now, my son. In my birthday card some of your words: “… to the most wonderful Mom in the world! I am so proud to call you my Mom. I look up to you (well, not anymore) and will always look up to you. I know that I wouldn’t have the heart I possess if it weren’t for you. You will always be my mom and my best friend. ‘I’ll love you forever and like you for always.” A few words from my Mother’s Day card: “I am beyond blessed that you are my mom and I wouldn’t change a thing. My mom, my best friend, my confidant, and my rock. I love you SO very much. Always & Forever, Love, Austin.”

In due time… Austin’s mom will be gathering names of loving people who may want to come to a celebration of his beautiful life in the spring at a beautiful place in Wisconsin… one of the last places where he last sang in a peaceful place; whoever was there was blessed, tremendously. We will be presenting many of Austin’s songs on a screen… sharing his life/personal memories from those who knew him… different foods he savored or enjoyed making… a memorable gathering with everything Love.

I thank God that you are now with our Precious Lord. Your voice that always seemed to defy anything of this earth is now in Heaven…singing more angelic than ever. 

I’ll see you in Heaven.

I love you.

Mm (Mom)