A couple of weeks ago, I had just finished a really good run on the treadmill. I was feeling revitalized, and pretty damn proud of myself. I showered, dressed and headed out to have a quick breakfast before starting on my day's plans.
One of my bestest gals was just a couple of steps behind me, and I ordered my standard breakfast of home fried potatoes with all of the contents of a western omelette on top (hold the eggs). I ordered her "I'll take the same as usual" breakfast and sat down to give my slightly jittery legs a bit of a rest.
I hit the update button on my iPhone to push the latest emails, and my world came to a screeching halt. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. My eyes instantly filled with tears, that I couldn't stop from spilling over onto the screen of my phone. I could not finish reading the email because I could no longer see the screen, for my tears.
My entire to-do list went out of my head. I was no longer starving for my breakfast. I didn't realize I would be late for my meeting.
I had received news from a close friend in Ohio ... letting me know that a tragedy had occurred with another mutual very close friend of all of ours.
A family with whom we'd shared meals with, laughter with, and many a hug ... had just lost one of their children in a car accident. Our children played lacrosse together, they colored pictures together. They swam together and learned about life and respect and friendship from each other.
Jeremiah was an amazing kiddo who had a ridiculous amount of zest for life and those around him. His smile was crazily infectious and our two littles loved when they would come over "cuz he played with us and likes us!"
It was too early. It was too unexpected. It was very unfair. It was not what anyone had planned. It was causing heartbreak, shock and lots of grief.
It hurt to be so far away.
I had not yet experienced death while living miles away. So far in my lifetime, when a tragedy or death occurred, nothing was more than a quick flight, or at most a day's drive away.
In the past, sad news has always meant simply altering some plans and then showing up to be present to help console, to put in my time making some meals, to offer to play the piano at a memorial service, to help transport the flowers back home after the funeral, to help keep other family members occupied, to give a hug, to pour a drink, to just sit in silence. To recall fond memories, followed by laughter.
To not be present is hurtful. To tell your oldest kiddo about the accident, and have his only option for reaching out to one of his best friends (an older brother to Jeremiah) be Facebook. To hope that my quickly typed message to Jeremiah's mother was at least a small indication of how much we love them. To feel that even though you've contributed to the fund created in Jeremiah's name, that it isn't nearly enough.
While my pain is absolutely nothing compared to that ache this family is feeling, I still wanted to share a bit (and give some credence to) about the fact that there is a huge negative ramification of living far away from family and friends.
I was pretty torn up in the weeks following the news of Jeremiah's death. His face, his wonderful smile and his sweet and innocent, yet very grown up mannerisms keep flooding randomly through my memories.
I continue to think of the family during this week, and the next, and the next. As they have laid him to rest in the ground, and rejoiced in the memories that they have of them, as they tend to final arrangements, take care of the mundane normalcy of life that still needs to be lived, and all of the days beyond, I will be thinking of them.
As I have recently tried to process the reality that death is final, and that our family is unable to be there to assist our friends in their grief, it became the topic of many conversations. There have many friends here who have had a loved one pass away, or become very ill. The question becomes : Do I stay or do I go?
When a grandmother becomes ill and death is knocking at her door ... should you go? When a close family friend is going through chemotherapy and reaches out to fellow friends for help and assistance ... should you go? When a death has sadly already occurred and your 24+ hour flight means you'll arrive after the memorial service ... should you go?
I am struggling with an appropriate way to end this post. While I don't have the right words to wrap it up concisely and neatly and surely don't have the words to truly express how much my heart aches for our friends, I did want to share just a bit about how much it hurts to be so far away.
Rest in Peace, Jeremiah ...
One of my bestest gals was just a couple of steps behind me, and I ordered my standard breakfast of home fried potatoes with all of the contents of a western omelette on top (hold the eggs). I ordered her "I'll take the same as usual" breakfast and sat down to give my slightly jittery legs a bit of a rest.
I hit the update button on my iPhone to push the latest emails, and my world came to a screeching halt. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. My eyes instantly filled with tears, that I couldn't stop from spilling over onto the screen of my phone. I could not finish reading the email because I could no longer see the screen, for my tears.
My entire to-do list went out of my head. I was no longer starving for my breakfast. I didn't realize I would be late for my meeting.
I had received news from a close friend in Ohio ... letting me know that a tragedy had occurred with another mutual very close friend of all of ours.
A family with whom we'd shared meals with, laughter with, and many a hug ... had just lost one of their children in a car accident. Our children played lacrosse together, they colored pictures together. They swam together and learned about life and respect and friendship from each other.
Jeremiah was an amazing kiddo who had a ridiculous amount of zest for life and those around him. His smile was crazily infectious and our two littles loved when they would come over "cuz he played with us and likes us!"
It was too early. It was too unexpected. It was very unfair. It was not what anyone had planned. It was causing heartbreak, shock and lots of grief.
It hurt to be so far away.
I had not yet experienced death while living miles away. So far in my lifetime, when a tragedy or death occurred, nothing was more than a quick flight, or at most a day's drive away.
In the past, sad news has always meant simply altering some plans and then showing up to be present to help console, to put in my time making some meals, to offer to play the piano at a memorial service, to help transport the flowers back home after the funeral, to help keep other family members occupied, to give a hug, to pour a drink, to just sit in silence. To recall fond memories, followed by laughter.
To not be present is hurtful. To tell your oldest kiddo about the accident, and have his only option for reaching out to one of his best friends (an older brother to Jeremiah) be Facebook. To hope that my quickly typed message to Jeremiah's mother was at least a small indication of how much we love them. To feel that even though you've contributed to the fund created in Jeremiah's name, that it isn't nearly enough.
While my pain is absolutely nothing compared to that ache this family is feeling, I still wanted to share a bit (and give some credence to) about the fact that there is a huge negative ramification of living far away from family and friends.
I was pretty torn up in the weeks following the news of Jeremiah's death. His face, his wonderful smile and his sweet and innocent, yet very grown up mannerisms keep flooding randomly through my memories.
I continue to think of the family during this week, and the next, and the next. As they have laid him to rest in the ground, and rejoiced in the memories that they have of them, as they tend to final arrangements, take care of the mundane normalcy of life that still needs to be lived, and all of the days beyond, I will be thinking of them.
As I have recently tried to process the reality that death is final, and that our family is unable to be there to assist our friends in their grief, it became the topic of many conversations. There have many friends here who have had a loved one pass away, or become very ill. The question becomes : Do I stay or do I go?
When a grandmother becomes ill and death is knocking at her door ... should you go? When a close family friend is going through chemotherapy and reaches out to fellow friends for help and assistance ... should you go? When a death has sadly already occurred and your 24+ hour flight means you'll arrive after the memorial service ... should you go?
I am struggling with an appropriate way to end this post. While I don't have the right words to wrap it up concisely and neatly and surely don't have the words to truly express how much my heart aches for our friends, I did want to share just a bit about how much it hurts to be so far away.
Rest in Peace, Jeremiah ...