Maggie is picking up our oldest from camp today. She left last night, and will be home late this afternoon. Before she left, she said to me: "It's so strange how I adjusted to his being gone. I feel bad because I got used to it."
I thought about that, and I realized that this is probably a very tiny version of what eventually happens when a parent loses a child. In the same way that I couldn't imagine life without Carter, I suppose that people just, eventually, have the pain of loss overlaid (not replaced) with a thick layer of Normal.
The pain can always poke through, but eventually it's not right at the surface.
In 2002, a girl in my town was killed in skiing accident. She was a young high schooler. I had coached her younger brother in soccer. I didn't know the family. But when the high school had a memorial event in the auditorium, I went. It was kind of a strange affair, with a big picture of the girl on the stage, peple coming up and talking about her, a bunch of high school kids playing "Wish you were here" by Pink Floyd. The whole thing was both touching and edged with teen drama, which made it a little bizarre. Her father even got on stage to talk to everyone about his girl.
How the man was able to do that, I have no idea.
I see the dad in town, on the train, on the fields, and every time I see him I think "How does he do that? How is he able to function after sustaining a loss like he did?" The answer, I guess, is just because he does. I don't think it's "for his son" or "for his wife."
I guess the nature of life is to keep living, no matter what.
Whoa. I'm missing Carter right now. A lot. Jesus.
Love to all. Even you, whoever abandoned that crazy black dog in a New Jersey parking lot in 1992.
5 comments:
You know, after I posted that SHOW-OFF photo (tee hee), with the question about longing for the pre-kid days, I thought to myself, "How incredibly selfish. What about people who lose their children? What if one of them reads that??"
I totally agree with you. When I saw that dad in New Jersey calmly talking about his daughter who was brutally raped and killed last week, I kept wondering HOW the hell he could even speak. I'd be sedated...either naturally or artificially.
Every once in awhile, my son will be out for a few hours without me, and I find myself rattling around my condo realizing what life will be like in a few years. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.
Ah the questions about loss and death. Real tough ones.
The father that lost that teenager will probably never be the same, but I guess it is indeed for the living son, who needs his father more than anybody else.
Having been raised in the same house with my grandmother who had lost one of her three sons at age 28, shortly before I was born, I got first-hand experience about this matter.
There was not a day in her life that she wouldn't spend 15-20 minutes sobbing in her room and looking at his picture. It made me incredibly sad to witness this daily ritual, but other than that, she was pretty cool.
My greatest fear is the loss of one of my children. Heidi says if it happened she does not know whether she would be able to persevere. I think that you just keep marching, baby steps moving forward. Scares the Hell out of me to think about.
The greatest tragedy of death is when the living fail to keep on living and enjoying life.
My father lost my sister within a month of losing his mother.
He's hasn't been a happy person since.
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