March 24, 1996

I arrived back from a law school trip to New York City on a bright but chilly Sunday afternoon. The first message on my answering machine made my heart sink:

Hey, kiddo, it's Uncle D. Your dad's in the hospital in Florida and he's not doing so well. We've got gramma in the car and we're driving to the airport to catch a flight down there. Call me as soon as you can. Love you. Bye.

As quickly as a I could I called my cousin Lisa up north. We talked for about half an hour. She didn't know a lot but knew more than I did. Sadly, she knew that Dad was in pretty bad shape and things didn't "look real good." We cried. We wondered what to do. We hoped and prayed.

I walked out and told my mom my dad was probably going to die. We cried. She comforted me.

It suddenly struck me try to call the hospital to get the details, maybe even talk to Dad. I was bounced around to several departments but finally was put in touch with one of the nurses in the ICU. Tearfully -- yes, she was crying -- she broke the news that Dad had passed away in the last 30 minutes.

I don't know to describe all the things I felt after that. Within days I was angry. My anger was directed at him. Nothing had equipped me to deal with his death. Oh, I managed to hold together, trying to be strong for my grandma. It was her loss more than mine, or so I felt at the time.

So many emotions and thoughts have come and gone over the last 13 years. There's not much of a point in reliving them. Despite not being one to normally mark anniversaries of things like this, I do find myself reflecting about my father's life, and our relationship, this day each year.

He wasn't the closest person to me nor was he the most important person in raising me, in making me who I am. In fact, he had a lot of shortcomings in that regard. But he was still wonderful. He's my dad. I hope he's well and I get to see him again. Slainte, dad!

Death of a young wife and mom

It's odd how we can be so moved, devastated even, by the loss of someone we've never met. We are touched by celebrity deaths as if we were their acquaintances. That makes some kind of sense because there's an illusion of "knowing" a celebrity.

What is strange is how painful the death of a complete stranger. Three days ago a young (34) wife and mother of three children (two with disabilities) from our church died of cancer. She was only diagnosed in late fall. No one expected she would be gone so quickly. God took her two days before Christmas, perhaps the worst time for a family to lose a daughter, wife and mother.

I never met this young woman. My wife met her briefly because had worked with one of her children in Sunday School. My wife sobbed when we heard the news. I've been in shock. A little hole has been poked in souls. The sadness is palpable. Maybe it's easy to feel that family's pain because we are young(er) parents. I cannot imagine losing my wife at such a young age (or at all for that matter.)

When a young person dies, more questions are raised than get answered. Why God did you take her now? Why did you leave her young children motherless? Only God knows the timing of tragedies. All I know is that it is painful to imagine being in this family's shoes.

Quite possibly, the lesson for me is to be unceasingly thankful for the blessings of my beautiful, wonderful wife and daughter He has given me. Maybe I am supposed to remember that others are suffering and could use our support. This horrible tragedy is a chance for the rest of us to show love to this family in crisis. I hope that our family and our church step to the plate.