Thursday, February 28, 2013

Heartbreak

Our community lost one of its mothers this week.  It was a tragedy that I want to call "preventable," but I'm not sure that would be entirely accurate.  This mom was beautiful, athletic, fit, exuberant, outgoing, inclusive, always laughing and welcoming, extending friendship.  She was one of those people whom I was always genuinely happy to see.  If I went to an event and she was there, I knew I would have someone to talk to or sit by.

Now she is gone.  I don't know anything about anything, but I have to assume she wasn't the only woman out there who has felt a sense of hopelessness.  What is the answer?  I always tell my children that, if they are approached by a stranger, they must run to the nearest house and go in.  Just go in.  Or run to the nearest mom.  If you are an adult who senses danger, either internal or external, you could use the same advice.  Run to the nearest mom and expose that danger.  You have a friend, you have a neighbor, you have an acquaintance.  Don't downplay your agony.  Sometimes, people feel like they have exhausted their support system.  Maybe their troubles are chronic or recurring.  Go to someone you barely know.  Had this woman knocked on my door and said, "Help me," yes, I would have.  Anyone would.

Like I said, I don't know anything about how to make the world a better, safer place or how to ease the silent suffering that surely must be going on right in my face.  But I say:  If you're hurt or wounded and you can't knock on my door, knock on somebody's door.

And to my beautiful friend:  My daughters will watch out for your daughters.  They will try to shelter and help them.  And I will watch out for your daughters from where I am, as you watch over them from where you are.  I wish you peace.

 https://www.facebook.com/groups/416533615104539/

4 comments:

Jennifer said...

I knew her from only one afternoon working side by side in our daughters' class on an art project last fall. Yet in just one afternoon, one tiny afternoon, I was struck by everything you described about her: beautiful, fit, inclusive, cheerful, engaging, warm, a light. My daughter was in tears when she shared the news with me yesterday afternoon. Again, afternoon. I am still reeling. I am sad for the family she leaves behind. I am even sadder for her, for the sense of despair she must have felt. And perhaps I am frightened -- that the delicate balance between floating and sinking, or even just the feeling of one or the other, can be so easily overturned.

Thank you for writing this. Will you pass news of arrangements on to me, if you have it?

Catherine said...

I'm so sorry you have lost this dear friend. Praying for her family. Praying for you.

((hugs))

Jennie said...

Still can't believe she is gone. When I was running this morning, I kept looking over at her spot and thought, "You should still be here!!!!"

She will be missed.

Loved your post. It sums up everything we are all thinking.

Ernstfamilyfun said...

that is tragic. So sorry.