I’m fond of typing here that “sometimes the universe provides”. By that I mean that often times in the past, when I’m stumped about what to write, something, somewhere happens that triggers something for me. And I spin out a thousand words or so based on that, whatever it may be. I’ve been working on a piece to put up here for a few days now, and it hasn’t been an easy write for me.
And then, about 45 minutes ago, I got a phone call from the Oldest One, She was very upset. As I was cycling through in my mind what might have happened to get her so upset, and landing on a handful of things (that’s kinda the way my mind works I guess) she told me one of the Heir To The Throne’s childhood friends was killed in a car crash last night.
She didn’t really know any details, she had just gotten the call alerting her about it immediately before calliing me, but she told me she didn’t know how to tell HTTT and wanted him to know before he saw it on social media. Which is, of course, a perfectly reasonable response. So I told her I’d make the call if she couldn’t. She agreed but said she wanted to be conferenced in to the call.
So I called him. And I told him. In an intentionally dispassionate voice. Because, even though the boys had grown apart over the years, they were still on good terms. And because, even though he’s had to deal with a lot of loss of loved ones in the course of his young life, it’s not an easy thing to hear, ever. It’s not that I didn’t care about HTTT’s friend, I always found him to be a very likable, somewhat goofy, and charming kid. He was also the only one of HTTT’s circle that callled me Papa. And he always did. If I showed up at one of their ballgames, whenever he saw me he’d call out “Hi Papa!” and was genuinely happy to see me.
So, knowing HTTT was at work, I tried to be as calm as I could be, knowing he would probably not be in a place where he would feel comfortable letting his emotions go. I’m not going to go into any greater detail than that now. Since this is all flowing pretty quickly in the aftermath, I won’t have time to let him proof this and see if he’s good with it. So I’ll leave this part of it here.
But really, how do you tell someone you love that someone has died?
I’ll always remember telling my then three year-old grandson that his Nana was gone. Vividly. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of a room in my niece’s house, trying to explain to him that he’d never see the Nana that he adored, and that worshipped him, again. And that she was now with Aunt Caitlin. I used to tell that story at Victim Impact Panels and it was not at all unusual, even after telling it hundreds of times, for me to cry as I tried to relate what that was like. Telling him that was difficult, maybe the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. And it’s not that this time was easy, I’m not trying to compare the two, it’s just that after we got off the phone I did nothing but second guess myself over my phone call.
I’m rarely at a loss for words, it’s true. But I can’t shake the feeling that I failed him as a support person in this moment. I told him to call or text whenver he wanted, but…
So, I sit here at the computer; listening to “God” by John Lennon on a loop. And I think about the morning I got up for work to this song and listened in stunned disbelief as Terri Hemmert told her audience that Lennon had been murdered late the night before. And I think about how the dream is over for a family, a group of friends, so many people that were a part of this young man’s life for twenty years and I know that their dream is over. Dreams of a long, happy life. Dreams of children or grandchildren. Dreams that we all have for our loved ones.
Hold the ones you love tightly, often.
Tell them you love them, often.
Do nice things for them, for no reason, often.
And, when they want to do nice things for you, let them.
Because sometimes the universe is an asshole.
Peace.