A child is born.
He is the most beautiful thing.
A child dies.
He is the kindest of hearts.
A new life comes into the world and only days later, one leaves it. This was our weekend: me and my boys. As we drove to the beach Sebastian, my nephew was being born into our family and this world. All new and bright, happiness and joy surrounding him. And today, as we drove home we got news of our friend passing away from the injuries he had sustained in the horrific bus accident in Argentina last week.
A new life comes into the world and one goes out.
I haven’t stopped crying. Tears of joy, tears of sorrow.
But it’s not about me, right? Rhetorical. Of course, it’s not about me. But as I drove home from the beach I couldn’t hide my sadness from the boys. I couldn’t help but make it about me. I put myself in the place of my dear friend who had just lost her baby. I wept as I drove. Unable to hold back my tears, I cried as I told them how much I loved them. I wiped my eyes; I warned them never to leave me.
As if they can stop death.
I got mad. Shit, I’m mad as I’m writing this. I can’t understand how such a wonderful young man could be taken from his parents, from his brother, from all of us. I’m furious as I think about what his mom will have to endure every day of her life without him.
But I still warned my sons not to do anything “stupid or dumb” or to ever make a “bad decision” that might shorten their time with me. Even though that’s not the case with this tragic accident. But I was upset. And I meant it. I cried as I begged them to tell me if they were happy and to make a list of all the things they want to do this year, next year, years to come. Grasping at every second, minute I have with them.
As if I have a choice.
Like I can stop death. I can’t keep stupid accidents from happening. Things in this world that are SO unbelievably unbelievable that you couldn’t ever imagine them taking place. You can’t even comprehend your son not falling in love, kissing that girl they have a crush on, or graduating from high school. Things that are such flukes that we could never fathom them ever happening. Not to us. Not to them! Never. I drove on crying and thinking of my dear friend wondering if she was ever going to feel whole again. I am so angry for her, heartbroken and sad.
But we have no choices when it comes to death.
Our children are on borrowed time, right? No parent should ever have to outlive their child. I looked at Jonah in the passenger seat and said,”I hope I die one day before you, baby. So I never have to live without you.” He totally understood and then he told me I was losing it. (And obviously, I was.)
This has been the hardest week for all of us at PD (my son’s school), I think. We are a family–a team. When one hurts, we all hurt. Sounds stupid, but it’s true. And the administration has been absolutely incredible throughout this entire situation. I’m proud of our community and thankful to be a Charger. (Oh, that’s our mascot.)
My heart aches tonight, for real.
And I can’t seem to stop telling my kids how much I love them. I hope it’s ok that I wrote this. It felt right. It’s from my heart and for my dear friend. Even if she never reads it, she has loved all of our children for so long… and we love her with all our hearts. Love you, S.