Friday, May 6, 2011

Rude Awakenings

My youngest daughter's good friend lost her dad yesterday. A heart attack, no warning, gone.

We are all at a loss; nobody knows how to process the news. He had seemed healthy, young, and strong when I shared a laugh with him a few days ago. Two nights ago, when I dropped his daughter off after drivers ed, I marveled, as I always do when I see her, at how beautiful and genuine her smile is. She was particularly radiant because she had just passed the test for her learner's permit and was officially on the road to, well, being on the road. Probably with her dad beside her. My daughter can't stop wondering how her friend feels about the way she said goodbye to him in the morning. Did she tell her dad she loved him? I'm pretty certain it didn't matter to him -- some things don't need to be said -- but it will always matter to her.

I suppose I'll reap some benefits from all this for a little while. I've already received a few gratuitous hugs and I love you's, and I expect my teenager will at least attempt to cut back on the grunting when I do things that annoy her, like breathe. But life will get back to normal soon, and I will just make a point of reassuring her that I love her no matter how bitchy she gets, and that I know, deep down beneath the scorn, she loves me back.

Loss of a loved one is bad enough; an untimely and shocking loss is unbearable. It reminds us all that nothing lasts forever, and we need to cherish what we have -- at least occasionally, when we're not too busy. The good news is that the pain won't last forever either, at least not in its current raw and stinging form. My daughter's friend's beautiful, contagious smile will return, in due time. But life, for her, her mom, and her sister, will never be quite the same.

Our thoughts are with them.


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