Picking Up the Pieces

When my son, Petty Officer 1st Class Jarrod Ray Beck died on January 12, 2023, my puzzle and all the pieces waiting to be placed dropped to the floor and scattered. I sat for many months, just staring at the broken pieces, overwhelmed, lost, confused, but most of all angry that my progress and planning for a future that included Jarrod were destroyed without warning. I spent over a year after Jarrod’s death struggling to place that anger and confusion. Was I angry with Jarrod? The Navy for not protecting my son? God for taking him away? All three?

It’s said we must “pick up the pieces and move forward” after a loss, but the hardest decision I faced when looking at my life’s puzzle on the floor was deciding where to start. Which pieces get left on the floor? Which pieces get put back on the board? Where do I even find new pieces that don’t include Jarrod? Some pieces no longer fit; others were destroyed beyond recognition.

Trading Anger for Clarity

I began by finding and picking up two pieces I needed to survive: my wife and my job. However, in early grief, the thought of sorting and picking up any other pieces overwhelmed me. For 18 months, I sat there — only two pieces back on the board — just staring at the rest, full of anger sadness, confusion, and frustration.

I brought my puzzle analogy to the table during a group session at a 2024 TAPS Men’s Program retreat. The anger, sadness, confusion, and frustration I felt while staring at my scattered pieces resonated with many of the men there. I was not alone. The group discussions and individual conversations that evolved out of this analogy over the course of the retreat were deep, reflective, and powerful — many times leaving us wanting for more. We stayed up many nights talking into the wee hours of the morning because we knew our time together was limited.

I also spent a great deal of time in deep introspection at the retreat. A gazebo on the grounds of our camp, which overlooked the serene beauty of The Lake of the Ozarks, became a favorite spot to sit with my thoughts surrounded by nature.

As a group, we spent several hours building benches and restoring this gazebo the previous owners of the camp dedicated to a daughter they lost. When our work was finished, we each received a dog tag with our lost loved one’s name, and we affixed them to a post on the newly restored gazebo in a deeply emotional, healing ceremony.

On the last day of the retreat, I sat in that newly dedicated memorial with my grief and the emotions from the previous day. As I cried, I knew Jarrod was beside me crying with me. He never wanted this for me or his mom. There, I let much of my anger go and decided it no longer had a place in my life, and letting it go made space for clarity — what to do with all those scattered puzzle pieces.

Back home, I dug through the rubble of my puzzle and found the largest in-tact section I could find — my past. I put this section back on the board, realizing these pieces cannot be taken from me. I continued to scour through the debris, knowing there was another piece I desperately needed to locate, Jarrod. While I knew this piece would never fit in my future puzzle, it was the one magical piece that would replicate and be a part of every other piece I would add in the future. This piece would carry me forward in my life.

My puzzle changed on that horrible day in January 2023 — it will never be the same. But my hope now lies with the Jarrod piece I hold in my hand and the bracelet I wear around my wrist. With this piece, I find the strength to pick up the rest of the pieces, find new ones to build my future, and live a life that honors him.

Chris Beck is the surviving father of PO1 Jarrod Ray Beck, U.S. Navy.

Photos: TAPS Archives, Pixabay.com