I wanted to feel the circulation of life around me.
I walked hearing each tap of my shoes on the pavement, seeing each glimmer of purple and gold in the water feature, and breathing in the summer air full of roses and trees and bees. Gratitude flooded over me for the ability to once more watch the sun set over music hall, once more tell my daughter I loved her, once more wonder at the beauty of fireflies glimmering green in the evening light…. my eyes were open and I was awakened to what was always there…life…in all it miraculous glory.
This life…which a good boy experienced for the last time today.
A good boy died today.
He was 16.
He was 16 and loved baseball and golf. He spent warm summer evenings like this walking to the square with his friends to get Graeters ice cream.
He was gentle and kind.
He was full of 16 year old charm, the vigor of a life that is in its beginning, full of all possibility, and potential.
Anna thought he was handsome.
I thought he was an old soul.
And when I awoke this morning, and was informed of his passing.
I was consumed.
A gentle spirit taken too soon.
And when his father looked at me this evening, carrying the weight of everyone’s grief on his shoulders including his own, I could only say,
“There are no words.”
There are no words when a good boy dies.