10 January 2015

Eighteen years



This post was originally going to be called "Three years," alluding to today being the three-year anniversary of Arzigogolare on Blogger. But instead of taking some time over the last few days to revisit the past & consider the future of this blog, the week took a very different turn from what I had planned. Unfortunately it was not the pleasant, creative kind, where you're following whimsy & finding serendipity. Instead, the week began with the unthinkable news that one of my daughter's closest friends had died, very suddenly and very unexpectedly, of a fluke medical complication.

I have been lucky that death has taken few close to me in the last forty-seven yearsand never a dear friend who was part of my every day. This means, though, that I don't really know how to deal with such things. It's hard enough to comprehend the hostage situations, killing sprees, plane crashes and other tragedies that happen all-too-often around the world, but finding a place in my mind for this quiet, but very intense, close-to-home event has been a terrible struggle...and I hardly know how my daughter and her tight-knit group of friends are managing to get through it. Well, actually, they are the only thing getting themselves through it. They have clung to each other, cried with each other, supported each other, and are beginning to find ways to honor the friend who is no longer with them.

All week I have been trying to understand why I can't seem to come to terms with Marco's death. Maybe because there is no explanation or reason, no logical chain of events: he wasn't hit by a drunk driver, he wasn't doing drugs, he didn't have a terminal illness. He was a good kid. There's no lesson here; he was valued, he was loved. I could try to look at it from the standpoint that he had the best eighteen years that a person could, that he is a vital part of memories that his friends and families will always hold dear. But I can't help but mourn the future he will never live...the future that so many had counted on sharing with him.

And I mourn for his familyfor the younger brother who shared a room room with him, for his parents having to bury their beautiful eighteen-year-old son and all of the dreams they had for him.

I mourn for his many, many friends, and the musicians in the multiple bands he played guitar for. And there's been that core group of friends that my daughter is also part of, nearly inseparable, who have been like a second family to one another, helping to navigate the waters that take some teenagers on a pretty scary journey. I've admired how there was no drama among them, just music & memory-making. At least you can say they didn't waste their precious time together (though I am not really at the point where I can use "at least this..." and "at least that..." to rationalize or find comfort).

I mourn for his girlfriend of the last year-and-a-half. She has been friends with my daughter since first grade, and it has been amazing to see her blossom in the time since she met Marco. They were the couple who everyone assumed would be always be together—the ones who must have given the rest of them hope for someday finding someone too.

In trying to work through this, I realize that one reason this tragedy feels so close to home is not only because of Marco's importance to my daughter and her dearest friends, but also of course because losing a child is the always-present fear of every parent. I have been extremely lucky as a mother; my daughter brings joy into my life daily, and our household is a harmonious one. I will admit that my mind sometimes wanders to what it would be like to lose my daughter—you never know what tomorrow holds, as is glaringly clear nowbut in the light of such thoughts I always comfort myself with the knowledge that she has lived seventeen years fully and beautifully, and that I have had the privilege of loving, cherishing and being proud of her every single day. I know now, though, how naive it is to think that would be enough. To lose her would be unbearable...

I suppose it boils down to this: we don't know which day will be our last on this earth. All we can do—or at least a startis to live every day as well as we can...to recognize the beauty each day holds, and to find & give joy.

 

 

*

 

...Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.

― John Donne, No Man Is An Island - Meditation XVII

 

*

 

 

I do hope that others of you out there have had a happier start to the year, and may you find comfort in the sadnesses and difficulties that, inevitably, do come. But may they be few...


19 comments:

  1. de près ou de loin.. la tristesse nous submerge ..
    et en ce moment il se passe des choses tristes aussi en france ...
    mais il ne faut pas abdiquer... une petite pensée... aussi pour le blog, qui me plait!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Merci pour les pensées, Elfi, et je envoie mes vœux que la France peut guérir de sa récente tragédie...
      - Lisa

      Delete
  2. Lisa-
    I'm so sorry to hear about your sad start to the new year. It's always hard when we lose loved ones...but doubly hard when it is unexpected and they are young. Know that I am thinking of you and your daughter. Much heartfelt love-Julie

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Julie - Thank you so much for your kind thoughts...I know it hasn't been long since your Father passed away, and I hope you are continuing to heal from that sadness. The death of someone special is never easy...
      - Lisa

      Delete
  3. Dear Lisa,

    My deepest condolences to you, your daughter, and the circle of friends and family that are going through this difficult time. I hope that you can find comfort in the good memories that you all must share of Marco, hard as this might be right now. I hope that time will heal. Sending warm thoughts your way - Sophia

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I appreciate your words, Sophia, and thank you for your warm thoughts. And yes, thank goodness for the good memories that people leave behind - those will always be with us and bring comfort...
      - Lisa

      Delete
  4. Lisa - this is such sad news - such a shock and no words can really deal with it. Surreal. Wishing you and your daughter gentle times as you find your way through, and strength in your sadness...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Fiona, thank you for your sympathies. It's true - the news still feels surreal as the mind resists this new truth. It is amazing the ripples that are felt from the hole that one person leaves...
      - Lisa

      Delete
  5. Lisa,
    This is such a painful time, emotionally and physically. I think it is very courageous of you to have shared the news. I read your post twice and I wish that I could write something helpful.
    However, in your message there are things that are very meaningful, that I believe will be helpful, day by day. The relationship you have with your daughter, the relationship she had with her friend Marco and the relationship she has with their group. This will bring strength, you are there for each other, not isolated and you can count on each other. My condoleances to you and your daughter. Take good care of each other,
    Céline
    Céline

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Céline ~ Thank you for writing...and what you wrote is indeed helpful, and so true. I believe these relationships will all be valued even more than before... Take care -
      - Lisa

      Delete
  6. So sorry. Having lost a number of family members and close friends, I can only say that having a good support system is what has helped me the most. It sounds like your daughter has a good support system. I pray you have one too. Candy

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the importance of support systems, Candy. I'm so sorry to hear that you have had so much experience discovering this firsthand. I think it's going to take many ups and downs for this group of friends until the ups start to outweigh the downs again, but I have been amazed at how brave they have been together.
      Wishing you continued comfort for your losses -
      - Lisa

      Delete
  7. I just wanted to take a moment to write a general thank you for your heartfelt comments and condolences. I really wasn't sure if I should write this post, but as the week went on the desire to share what has happened became stronger; it's where I "am" right now, and the idea of skipping over something as importance as this didn't feel honest or right...
    Here is hoping that others of you out there are in a happy & creative space -
    - Lisa

    ReplyDelete
  8. Dear Lisa and Ella,

    "This too shall pass..." (ancient Persian proverb)

    No matter the religious belief a person has, the idea of death always scares us, despite knowing we will face it someday. Unfortunately no words have the power to take away this emptiness feeling.

    Acceptance, get together with friends / family, let the tears flow and let time get away the sadness are the only remedies I know. This is how I faced the closest losts I've had (my younger brother and my father). It's hard, but we must go on.

    Keep the nice memories, and it seems that you have plenty of them.

    My warmest thoughts to Marco´s family, his girlfriend, his friends. Special ones to you and Ella.

    Vera

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hello, Vera, and thank you for your condolences, and writing about what has helped you with the loss of your father & brother - losses I can not even begin to imagine.
      It's beginning to hit me now just how far the ripples of loss can spread. I think this is why the line from John Donne - that each death, no matter how close to home, still touches us all - is striking a chord for me. And yes, the passing of time will help - at some point.
      I hope you, too, are holding onto the memories with you father & brother...
      - Lisa

      Delete
  9. Lisa, I simply haven't the words. My heart broke reading about Marco's death. I wish I could offer a hug or cup of coffee...or just sit and be quiet with you and your daughter. Know that thoughts of solace and love are being sent your way. Jennifer

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for your "virtual" hug/cup of coffee/thoughts of kindness, Jennifer...much appreciated. Everyone is still feeling very lost about Marco's death. I think now that the initial shock is starting to wear off we are left with trying to accept the reality of what's happened. Not an easy time, but the warm thoughts do help immensely...
      - Lisa

      Delete
  10. Lisa, so sad and sorry to read this post. Our thoughts are with you and Ella. We hope to make it there to see you before too long, and hopefully share some memories. Our girls have no doubt both grown so much since they last saw each other.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's good to hear from you, Ken - and thank your for your kind thoughts. Things continue to be very sad around here, but I suppose it is a testament to how much a person has been loved & valued when the emptiness without him is vast.
      It would be lovely to see you all here one day - I hope your family's new "adventure" continues to be full of new joys & happy surprises! After more than ten years, Florence still offers plenty of those for us...
      - Lisa

      Delete

Thank you for joining in on the dialogue; I appreciate your comments!
{Sorry about enabling word recognition, but I'm hoping it will alleviate the spam.}

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...