The story about the freshman who died on campus raced like wildfire through the parents Facebook group launching a million texts and telephone calls.
I read the posts and the comments and shook my head at the rumors and hearsay along with the demands for details from the university.
My daughter had already confirmed something was going on but we didn’t have details and I thought back upon my days as a student.
Every year of high school and college I heard stories about kids who died, some in car accidents, some by drunk drivers, some by dumb luck and some by terminal illness.
As a father I understood the concern of other parents but also felt anger at the lack of care some others displayed. In their interest to protect their own children and assuage their own fears they trampled upon the privacy of a family whose grief deserved better.
I have been to the funerals of those who died young and seen the grief of parents and siblings firsthand. You don’t forget such things.
So I closed down the computer and discovered the case for my Airpods had disappeared…again.
Not Again
Technically I am on my third set of Airpods Pro. I lost the first pair for about two days but as I use them for both personal and professional needs I didn’t wait long to replace them.
They have become a key tool so after hours of searching I went out and purchased a replacement pair. Two days later we found the missing pair and so another family member got an early gift, albeit used and unexpected.
When Apple released the second generation with improved noise cancelling features I went out and purchased those. They made an immediate positive impact and so it has become rare not to find them on my person.
They are a traveling cone-of-silence, used to amplify my hearing as needed and trusted tool for meditation.
After I closed the computer and discovered they weren’t in my pocket I momentarily cursed and wondered if I had managed to misplace them because surely I hadn’t lost them again.
I quickly confirmed I hadn’t and left for the gym. I need to move my body and work off frustration.
****
I keep thinking about the parts and pieces that made up this last post.
I knew then there was a carriage being driven by a guy in a robe who carries a scythe but wasn’t sure how far away he was.
After my father died SQ had mentioned how memories from that time would be lost and found again. I remembered hearing her say that and thinking it made sense.
But I don’t think I realized how fragments would rise to the surface long after it all had taken place. It makes sense but at the time I didn’t have context to put it in.
Someone in the Facebook group said they couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to see someone put in a body bag and I rolled my eyes at it.
I watched them put my father in and walked with them to the minivan into which he was loaded.
The man from the mortuary and the hospice nurse kept a careful eye on me. I suppose they were concerned I was going to freak out but I never worried about that.
They had already given me time with Dad after he had died. If I was going to lose it that would have been it.
I walked with them because I wasn’t going to let him fall off of the gurney or out of the van. It was one of the last few things I could do to physically look after him. I hadn’t planned on it, but when the opportunity presented itself I took advantage of it.
The only thing I knew I was going to do was make sure that I filled as much of his grave in as I could. Once that was done, well there was nothing more I could do physically.
What I read in that group also reminded me that I am pretty familiar with death and funerals. I wouldn’t claim to be an expert but I know enough.
And I know the power of saying a simple “I am sorry” to the mourners. It is not a panacea and it doesn’t fix things but it is not meant to.
It is an acknowledgment of their grief and pain. It is you recognizing their hurt and when there isn’t much you can do, well that does more than people realize.
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