Not for Me to Reason Why

It was Dec. 16, 2004, and I was driving to work, looking at the impeccably landscaped golf course near my family’s home, watching mist rise from the ponds. As I admired the beautiful morning, I thanked God for it, and for letting me keep my infant son, William.

The day before, we learned that he did not have cystic fibrosis, a degenerative, debilitating disease that would have killed him young, or required a double-lung transplant – neither of which I had envisioned for our dark-haired, big-eyed boy. I was so relieved my older son Martin would have his brother throughout his life, and that my husband and I would not have to bury our child.  

Diane Crim Photography. Used with permission. All rights reserved

 I thanked God again for sparing my family – my own and my siblings’ – the tragedies I had seen befall many of my friends’ families. Terminal illnesses, suicides, tragic accidents. I wondered out loud how all of that worked. How one family experiences typical life events, while another family suffers tragedy, sometimes many heartbreaks. How two people can suffer the same illness, disease, or injury, and one lives while the other dies. 

Four days later, I learned there is no rhyme or reason. On Dec. 20, tragedy befell my family. Jonathan – my sister’s and brother-in-law’s only child, my mother’s grandson, my nephew – died in a single-car crash on Tallahassee’s dark, dangerous Deerlake Road. He was only 16.

I still thank God. But I’ve never again wondered, silently or out loud, how any of this works; there is no sensible or reasonable explanation. I’ve never looked at the world the same way since. I do try even more to live each day with gratitude, reverence and humility.

Thankful … and Wanting

Mom

Growing up, holidays were magical. My mother made them that way. “I Believe” has always been her motto. Snowmen (even in Florida), Santa Claus, flying reindeer … she made it all seem possible and real.Today, I muster up all the “I Believe” I can and try to make the holidays magical for my kids. I want that for them. I want that for myself.

I am thankful my mother is here to share Thanksgiving. I love having one more Thanksgiving with her. She is 83 now, and I know there are not as many Thanksgivings ahead for us with her, as we have had with her in the past. I wish my father were still here to meet and know his youngest grandchild, my son, William George. They would delight in each other’s company.

I am thankful my sister Becky and brother-in-law Doug have joined us again these past few years for our Thanksgiving meal. I wish so much that their son Jonathan were here with us. He was 16 when he died on Dec. 20, 2004.

Thanksgiving 2002
From left, kids in front: Lauren, Jonathan, Martin.
From left, back row: Lee, Mom, Becky, Me, Joaquin.

Thanksgiving 2004 was the last holiday my sister and brother-in-law had with him. None of us knew there would be far more Thanksgivings ahead without him, than all the ones we had shared with him in the past. 

Loss makes love, thankfulness, family and holidays bittersweet. They make me aware of not only my family’s grief, but the mourning of others, too. As the holidays arrive, I think of not only my sweet sister, but all parents and families who are grieving losses.

May we all find peace and comfort throughout the holidays, and maybe, muster up a little magical “I Believe.”