There are so many other things I'd like to be sharing today. Like how I have just re-read the Harry Potter series one after another and love those darn books to pieces. Or how I'm worried that Man-Child may accidentally kill Hubby in his quest to help him lose weight and fit; apparently the boy doesn't recognize that Hubby isn't 18 anymore. Or how they both seem to have some kind of electro-magnetic thing going on that causes at least one of the windows in the cars they drive to fail in some kind of spectacular way (I have now forbidden either one of them to drive my car, by the way, since I like my windows to go up and down at my command). But instead, you are getting this post.
The first day back to work after a four day weekend is ALWAYS hard. Always. This morning was particularly difficult because for some odd reason I had severe indigestion. As in, I found myself awake at 4:00 am chomping on Tums before falling back into bed, in what was, apparently, a coma since I found myself being woken up by Hubby shaking me violently on the shoulder a few short hours later telling me it was late.
And I still had heartburn. Which pretty much meant that I had to mostly forgo my caffeine this morning - I had about half a cup before I realized I couldn't take much more. This, of course, meant that I was very sluggish this morning.
This, coupled with all the "catch-up" work and "surprises" (i.e., did anyone think to order lunch for this meeting that was scheduled over a month ago? Ummm, no.) that kept popping up all morning made for a very off-balanced Gigi.
So when Man-Child called and asked if I wanted to grab some lunch (at this point, at least the heartburn was gone), I decided to forgo the packed lunch I had and dine with one of my most favorite persons in the world.
As soon as we sat down, he looked at me and said, "Well, I got some bad news last night while I was hanging out with the guys." When I asked what had happened, he informed me that one of his high school classmates had died. The guys apparently found out about it last night via Facebook.
He had no idea what had happened only that the boy had been found in his bed. By his parents, I assume.
And I cried. I don't personally know this boy, but Man-Child does. He wasn't one of MC's usual crowd, but despite the fact that they were one of the largest freshmen classes the school had ever had it was still a small class - there was maybe 150 kids, if that, in the graduating class of 2012. They all knew each other pretty well. MC had him in his homeroom class and maybe a few others. They talked every day.
And this has haunted me for the remainder of the day. Imagining what might have happened. Imagining the pain and horror that his parents are dealing with right now. Knowing that this kid had just finished his first year of college - and that there is no future for him. That he will not graduate. That he will not find his passion in life. That he will never find his soul-mate. That these poor parents have to bury their only (I think) child.
Bad things happen every day. We witness it on the news, online, hear about it from people and it hurts and we mourn. But then it hits that close to home and it really, really becomes real.
So today, my heart does hurt. A lot. For the family and friends of this boy; particularly the parents. For the life that won't be fulfilled. My heart hurts for his classmates who are now reeling in shock - because to most of them this is a new experience. Their friends aren't supposed to die - at this age they are invincible. They are supposed to come home and meet up at parties - like the one they had last weekend - to talk about all their new experiences and dreams for the future. They aren't supposed to be discussing memorials.