No parent should have to write their child's obituary. I did, once.
In her junior year of high school, Erika took part in the Every 15 Minutes program. As part of this intense, week-old effort to make kids think about the consequences of drinking and driving, Erika "died" and her obituary was read to her classmates. There's a lot of role-playing, and the mock accident in front of the whole school is meant to be as realistic as possible. Almost too real--they film a real police officer coming to your door with the news, and to say that was an unsettling experience is an understatement.
I wrote an obituary, but I knew my child was alive. I cannot imagine writing any other kind.
A child is born, and with that birth comes the promise of a next generation--a person to live on after you. I don't think you can help but have dreams for your kid--dreams of happiness, of achievements, of a very long life filled with doing things that will make this world a better place.
You shouldn't have to list those accomplishments in a death notice. That's just cruel.
But life is cruel. There are diseases, and wars, and and freak accidents, and evil people who do horrible things, and there are drugs and alcohol. And, there are those moments, nanoseconds of time, when things go terribly wrong.
In the past few months, two young men, known by our family, have died. Died suddenly at tragically young ages. Stephen Rane was killed by a man with a gun. Daniel Kline died in an auto accident. They left behind families whose grief is unfathomable to most of us.
I knew these young men through my children, and both of them were such sweet boys. Their parents? People just like me. Which makes these tragedies strike home all the harder. As parents, you do the best you can, and hope beyond hope that your children grow to be...old.
There is nothing I can say to these parents. Nothing but "I am so sorry." And that seems so...lacking. But I am sorry. Deeply and completely sorry for their loss. A loss and a pain I cannot comprehend.
No parent should have to make funeral arrangements for their children. Pick out clothes, a casket. If there was a rule in the Universe, that should be it.
Of all the items on the "Heartbreaking, Soul-Crushing List", burying your child certainly is at the top.
In her junior year of high school, Erika took part in the Every 15 Minutes program. As part of this intense, week-old effort to make kids think about the consequences of drinking and driving, Erika "died" and her obituary was read to her classmates. There's a lot of role-playing, and the mock accident in front of the whole school is meant to be as realistic as possible. Almost too real--they film a real police officer coming to your door with the news, and to say that was an unsettling experience is an understatement.
I wrote an obituary, but I knew my child was alive. I cannot imagine writing any other kind.
A child is born, and with that birth comes the promise of a next generation--a person to live on after you. I don't think you can help but have dreams for your kid--dreams of happiness, of achievements, of a very long life filled with doing things that will make this world a better place.
You shouldn't have to list those accomplishments in a death notice. That's just cruel.
But life is cruel. There are diseases, and wars, and and freak accidents, and evil people who do horrible things, and there are drugs and alcohol. And, there are those moments, nanoseconds of time, when things go terribly wrong.
In the past few months, two young men, known by our family, have died. Died suddenly at tragically young ages. Stephen Rane was killed by a man with a gun. Daniel Kline died in an auto accident. They left behind families whose grief is unfathomable to most of us.
I knew these young men through my children, and both of them were such sweet boys. Their parents? People just like me. Which makes these tragedies strike home all the harder. As parents, you do the best you can, and hope beyond hope that your children grow to be...old.
There is nothing I can say to these parents. Nothing but "I am so sorry." And that seems so...lacking. But I am sorry. Deeply and completely sorry for their loss. A loss and a pain I cannot comprehend.
No parent should have to make funeral arrangements for their children. Pick out clothes, a casket. If there was a rule in the Universe, that should be it.
Of all the items on the "Heartbreaking, Soul-Crushing List", burying your child certainly is at the top.
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