Then, Friday, March 4 came along.
The college I work at - Harvey Mudd College - completed what we believe was a very successful site visit by a team of peer reviewers who were on campus for the college's reaccreditation efforts. The visit concluded on Thursday, March 3, with enormously positive feedback provided by the distinguished panel of professionals who comprised our peer review team.
To celebrate, Glen and the kids and I had planned a long weekend in the Bay area. Chloe, my youngest niece, turned four on March 7, and her party took place on Sunday. We planned to cavort around our usual haunts and hang-outs, meet with friends, and enjoy an otherwise unstructured weekend. We drove up on Thursday evening, during which time David and Elizabeth contentedly watched DVDs in the back seat, I dozed, and Glen drove us safely to our apartment up north.
On Friday morning, while I was strolling around the IKEA store in East Palo Alto, I received one of the worst phone calls of my entire life. The five-year old son of one of my dearest and closest friends, had died.
For the purposes of this blog, I won't mention the names of the family impacted by this horrible, devastating tragedy. But, by way of a bit of background, the mother of this beautiful boy was one of my Scripps classmates. She and I were next-door neighbors in Browning Hall at Scripps during my senior year. She and her husband live in the northern party of the Bay area, and they have two sons. She is one of my closest friends. We gave each other baby showers prior to the arrival of our respective oldest kids. David and this little guy enjoyed playing together whenever our families got together.
The oldest woke up on Friday morning not feeling well, went back to his room to rest, and he was gone.
Always looking for some sort of silver lining - however remote - I was grateful that the kids and I were already up north so that I could get to my friend's home in a jiffy. Glen and I arrived at their beautiful home late in the afternoon that same day, and all I could do was hug them, cry with them, and sit together with them in shared shock.
We'll be returning to the Bay area bright and early tomorrow morning so as to be with the family, talk, visit, share beloved memories of a beautiful little boy, and attend his memorial service on Monday.
In light of all of this, I've gained remarkable new perspective and appreciation for so many things. I only hope that this new-found enlightenment lasts. Here are some of my initial lessons:
1. If the David and Elizabeth's rooms are messy, strewn with toys, clothes, and assorted clutter, that means they are happy, healthy, alive, and with me today. The mess doesn't matter one wit.
2. There is always time for one more hug, one more lullaby, and one more popsicle.
3. Kids understand death and loss better than we give them credit for. David has been such a trouper, but this is his first experience with losing a friend. He is so sad, and yet so wise, honest, and forthcoming about his feelings.
4. Yes, I'll be happy to get the new "Megamind" DVD at Target. Not a problem.
5. The honest and candor with which children express their feelings is absolutely amazing. At the candlelight vigil held for our friends' son at his school on Monday evening, students and classmates left messages and artwork on yards and yards of butcher paper. Their insight, expressed in words and drawings, are brilliant.
6. It's terrifying when a friend loses a child. Absolutely terrifying. You don't know what to say, what to do, and how to act. If anything, I've learned that if all you can do is sit there with them, hold their hand, and just be present, it helps not only the grieving parent, but you, too.
7. Kids' celebrations are so vitally important, but they need to be about the kids, not the parents. For Elizabeth's 4th birthday party, we originally planned to do an elaborate tea party theme. After this weekend, it became clear to me that the elaborateness of kids' parties have nothing to do with the kids. It's about the parents. To that end, Elizabeth's party will now just be a big, whopping play date with cousins, classmates, kids from the neighborhood, and friends. Pizza, mac and cheese, and other kid-friendly fare will be served. There's no need for white gloves, lace tablecloths, and fine china. There IS a great need for unstructured play time, laughter, and running around like crazy. Example of how this worked beautifully: Chloe's birthday party on Sunday. It was a princess-themed affair, but the kids got the greatest pleasure from playing ball in the front yard, bouncing on the trampoline in the backyard, munching on cupcakes, and climbing in the tree house. Bliss!
Cherish every moment, my dear friends. Life is a gift. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
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