"That's heavy..."

Hearing news about something terrible happening at a distance has a completely different impact on me than when it happens in my backyard and close to home.  I imagine that it is probably very much the same when I post here some of the things that happen in my life.  As a reader, the farther you are to me physically or relationshipwise, the less it impacts you too.  Don't worry, I won't hold this against you since I understand too well how this process works.  When I was much younger, many news stories would cross my life leaving very little trace of their true importance or meaning.  Even close to home events like the passing of a relative, a car accident of somebody I knew, or a crime committed in my local community were in my mind labeled as "things that just happen."  I believe that the first close to home experience that truly touched me was the death of my father when he was just 44 years of age and I was an 18 year old teenager.  Interestingly, my father had already had his first heart attack when he was only 33 years young, and then two more throughout his life before he passed away, and even though the events were significant at the moment that they were occurring, I don't remember worrying too much about it afterwards.  His sudden death, however, felt as a paralyzing experience that brought my young adult life almost to a halt for what seemed forever.  Other relatives had passed away when I was younger without truly digging into my life in the same way that my father's death brought up inside me an awakening of the reality and finality of death.  Watching and experiencing first hand the emotional pain and suffering of my mother, sisters, and brother taught me an incredibly powerful lesson of how the death of someone that you love can bring you down to your knees in an instant.

Almost 30 years have gone by since the death of my father and to this day I still get emotional just thinking about it.  In those 30 years I have lost other relatives like my three remaining grandparents and also some very young cousins to breast cancer, lung cancer, and car accident.  Each one of these deaths has touched me deeply and taught me some lessons that I would rather not have to learn first hand.  Parents burying their children is a lesson that nobody should have to endure.  In my humble opinion it is the most devastating event anyone can experience in their lifetime.  I've also lost extended family and close by friends, some to accidents, some to drugs and alcohol, other to diseases, and worst of all to murder.  Every one of these beautiful souls holds a special place in my heart that only God has access to understand how it's affected me and my life.  Some years back I also experienced first hand the true devastation that the suicide of a teenage son had on a close to me married couple.  In essence, this kind of experience simply destroys every ounce of joy in any parent while putting their lives into a maze with no possible solution or exit.  Eventually the only way out of this crisis was divorce in order to each survive.

I apologize in advance for the somber tone of this post, but the truth is that there is no way this subject can be addressed smiling.  However, I must tell this story, and in my opinion you should read it...

Yesterday was a good day with my two sons.  As I arrived at my home after work my oldest son was waiting for me with the request for me to take him to a bookstore to buy the second volume from an author that he had just finished reading the first.  I truly enjoy getting into my car and driving around with my sons even if it is just for a few minutes hunting down something that they are interested in.  When I called my other son asking him if he wanted to go with us he was busy listening to some web cast and declined.  The 17 year old eagerly straightened himself up in front of a big mirror that lays on the side wall of the entrance of our home.  Just last weekend he got the first haircut in more than three years and his long dark hair now sits just above his shoulders instead of all the way to the middle of his back.  I am partial to liking him anyway that makes him feel happy, so long, short, curly, or straight makes absolutely no difference to me.  He had also gone shopping with his mother to a thrift store where he bought a few interestingly looking used long sleeve shirts, a pleasantly green one of which he was wearing over a dark t-shirt made him look very nice.  Of course, it would not be him without something on his head, so the final touch was a black fedora hat and some dark shades.  In my opinion, he looked absolutely smashing!  I would feel this opinion to be biased if it were not for the very pretty young lady that was at the register when we were purchasing the book that commented on how much she liked both, his choice of books, and also his shirt.  As we walked out of the bookstore I threw a tease by saying "dude, that chick was absolutely hitting on you!"  For which he replied, "she must be a hippie!"  I laughed both inside and out with the knowledge that he knew I was right, and also because of how non-challant he always is about things like this.  As she complimented him all he did was give her a simple no teeth showing smile, no words came out of his lips, and it was obvious that after I had made my comment the entire matter had not gone up to his head.  I really like that about him.  He always seems to be so content with whom he is, regardless of the entire world that surrounds him.

On our drive over to the bookstore I asked him if he had heard about the news of the missing girl in Moreno Valley California, which is just a few miles away from us.  Last week on Thursday, July 15th, around noon time a 17 year old teenage girl was abducted half a mile away from her high school while on her way back to a friend's home after her summer school classes.  Yesterday's local news reported that on Tuesday, July 20th, a badly decomposed body had been found among a grove of trees in a vacant field no more than two miles away from where she was abducted.  The next day, dental records were used to confirm that in fact it was the body of Norma Lopez.  As I told him about this tragedy I saw how the expression in his face turned somber and sad.  The only words that came out of his lips were "that's heavy."  Given the opportunity, we talk a lot and I am very familiar with most of the slang that he uses that is common to his age and social environment.  I have heard other kids using the "heavy" expression, yet to date I had never heard him use it in any of our conversations.  In a sense it took me by surprise, not because of the word in itself, but rather because of when he chose to use it.  My son is a very well read individual.  If you go back to some of my earlier posts you will discover that his love for reading began at a very early age and has never stopped.  He has an extremely advanced vocabulary and his reading and writing skills are off the chart.  In fact, even after over two years of barely attending any formal school, when he took the high school certification tests from the state he scored a perfect score on his essay and on the language arts section of the test.  I believe that his choice of words has a very significant importance and I tend to listen very carefully to what he has to say when we have our conversations.  Yes, the terrible experience that the parents, family members, and close friends of Norma Lopez are having to endure is very well described as "heavy."  The pain, the sorrow, the unjustifiable violence and needless emotional devastation caused by the death of this young girl is "heavy" indeed.  A burden that weighs much more than it should and nothing truly has the power to lift it off the hearts and minds of all that have been left behind.  When a body of a child is found decomposing in an open field so damaged that not even gender can be determined and dental records are necessary for identification purposes, indeed I agree with my son, this event is clearly so "heavy," in fact it is so massive in itself that even the space around it feels warped and the time has slowed down to an almost complete stop for all of those that are experiencing this hardship first hand.

Very few things have the power to lift us when we are in the middle of a tragedy such as death.  There are no words that are useful, there are no gestures that make it all better.  In fact, nothing that anyone says or does truly makes a difference to those that are in mourning.  The moment is so heavy that time in itself feels surreal, almost as if we are dreaming and at any moment are about to wake up and realize that nothing transpired truly happened.  Unfortunately and eventually our bodies give in to exhaustion and we collapse and fall asleep.  When we wake up we realize that it was not a dream, that we will never share a moment of life with the individual that we just lost.  The only thing that eventually keeps us going are the memories and the love we have nurtured in our hearts.  In fact, love is what carries us through these difficult moments that have no apparent meaning.  It is not just the love that we gave or received that lifts us off the hurtful path, it is also the love that we never had a chance to express, the moments that we had planted in our hearts for another time, another day, tomorrow.  This endless supply of moments that never came hurts much deeper than we ever dreamed they would, but they also eventually teach us how much those that are now gone really meant to us.

Needless to say, I ask of those of you who pray, to pray for this family that is now going through such a difficult time in their lives.  For those of you who don't pray, we'll pray for you too, so that you never find yourself anchored on the ground on your knees going through a moment like this without God's blessings.  Nobody should have to carry this kind of weight in their lives...nobody.

Dad