Let me tell you what I think makes sense: dying when you are old. Schooling, travel, different jobs, dating, falling in love, getting your heart broken, falling in love and realizing that that other time was not nearly as wonderful as this time, getting hitched, having kids, raising kids, politics, happiness, sadness, friendships, lessons learned, growing old, gaining wisdom, more travel, more ups and downs, more politics, volunteering, helping others, taking a break, enjoying it, watching grand kids grow, watching your kids try to parent, being happy to see it all. THAT makes sense. And then when you can't get around, and you can hardly see the paper, your eyes are so bad. And even when your hearing aid is turned up as high as it can possibly go, you can't hear. And everything else starts to break down, then it makes sense to die. But not one minute before then.
So, Gavin's grandma has had all her life experiences. Sweet Eloise will not be on this earth much longer. But she did it all. She outlived husbands, raised great kids, was loved by many, and probably did not have many regrets. Good for her. And so, she will be missed. But we don't mourn her death because, as you hear it said, "It's her time". But what about when it is NOT your time? What about my friend from childhood, Hutch, who is 31 years old. 31. What did he get to do? Well, he did LOVE life. And he lived it to the fullest. But he had only just met the love of his life a year ago. He'd only recently gotten married. He had only just found out that his wife was two months pregnant with their first child. He had only really just begun. And so, it makes NO SENSE. And anyone that tells me otherwise, who says "They KNOW that this was meant to be," to them I say BALONEY. Really. Absolute Baloney. He should have lived, and seen the birth of his child. He should have been at every birthday party, and milestone. He should have been up at night with the child to give comfort when there were nightmares. He should have been able to have a ten year anniversary with his wife. He should have taught this child to ski. He should have taken out the trash every week, year after year after year after year. He should have been able to grow old...THAT MAKES SENSE.
It is almost enough to paralyze me with fear. No driving, no flying, no to anything that could take my life, or the life of my family. Because there is no sense to it. No sense to who goes...and when. Hutch lived every day like it was his last. Full of life. So, that is the lesson that I will take away from this tragic day- love life and live every day like it is my last. Kids, in case I don't hug you enough, I want you to know that if I could permanently stitch myself to your bodies, glue myself to your skin, I would. To be near you always is my dream. To listen to your stories, and see the expressions on your faces, and touch your lovely cheeks and look in to those almond eyes. If I could do nothing but that all day, I would be content. And to Gavin, I love you. I love you for taking out the trash, and filling the car with gas, and doing our finances, and spending hours at Costco every weekend, and playing with the kids, and rubbing my feet, and Tivoing "my shows" and barbecuing the meat (as well as cutting all those gooey things off the chickens beforehand), and letting me furnish the house, and wanting to take me on dates, and backing me up when I am disciplining the kids, and not shaving your beard because you know I love it, and doing all the wash (including folding it and putting it away) and getting crickets for the gecko, and doing the kid's affirmations at night, and telling Shelby that her hair looks really long and gorgeous, and changing the baby, and running the baths, and making us chocolate, peanut-butter banana milkshakes, and showing Dalton how to register his Chaotic trading cards online, and fixing our printer, and reading Newsweek, and being nice and easy-going, and listening to me ramble, and taking the raincheck when you don't get sex because I am so tired that I can not function, and making waffles for breakfast on the weekends, and buying me chocolates at Logan Airport, and paying for all of our home projects, and playing catch with Dalton, and...well there's more, but that is the day-to-day reason that I love you. I would be very sad if you were not around. I hope that we are still getting on each other's nerves years from now, when you claim your battery was broken in your hearing aid, and THAT's why you didn't hear me and answer me, and I make you help me to the toilet when my hips are shot. We'll look back on our lives, and we'll say "Lucky us" and that makes sense.