Today would have been the 20th birthday of one of my sons’ friends from his cub scout days. My own son will turn 20 in just a few months – and their days as Cub Scouts seem like not so long ago. Isaac, his friend, was murdered last year. I’m friends with his mother on Facebook, and how she has managed to go on, and even thrive, is nothing but a testament to her strength and that of her family. He was her oldest of 3 sons; I always felt a bit of kinship with her, being another mom of 3 boys.
When I first became a mother, the thought of losing my children as youngsters didn’t really occur to me. I had no frame of reference for it; the only young person I recall personally dying young was a classmate of my sister’s, who was lost to suicide during their senior year.
And then my youngest son came along with a set of health problems that often had me fearing for his life. Later, mental health issues affected more than one of my sons, and I feared loss in a different way.
Along my parenting journey, I’ve known a few parents who lost their children as teen in horrific accidents – a coworker, a fellow boy scout parent. And then our cub scout friend being murdered, well, that was definitely the most horrifying.
And so now, even though the youngest of mine is a legal adult, I still hold the fear. I still, most days, remember my tomorrows with them are not guaranteed. It may seem macabre or morbid, but not to me. To me it gives me motivation to make the moments count, to not put things off, to make sure they know how much I love them and how they make me who I am.
Happy birthday, Isaac. Lots of people remember you and wish you were still here.
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| Sebastian, Isaac and Quent |
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