Here is round two of my Train Thoughts series. This one is a little on the heavy side. Prep yourself with a kleenex and a couple deep sighs ready to be released.
Over the weekend, I got word that another friend lost her daughter suddenly.
I guess calling her a friend is a stretch. She’s more of the “we met once and became Facebook friends, so now I know more about her than half of my extended family” kind of acquaintance. I don’t know how it happened. She’s too far removed for me to ask details, but close enough that the situation has weighed heavily on me since.
I know I am in the place in life where I will notice these stories – anything about a child getting hurt, maimed, scared or dead gets me all frazzled and wondering “what if” in regards to Eggroll. I know this. But I also really feel like there is more news about babies dying in ways that I just didn’t think happened anymore. A couple ladies lost their babies in child birth. The mom who had twins the same night I was in the hospital with Eggroll died herself, which OK, is not baby-based, but really? That still happens?? This toddler this week (and a couple others in my fringes) died suddenly in their sleep after a short life of near perfect health.
To which I suggested to Randy that I don’t know anyone who had a sibling that died very young. You hear stories from our parents’ generation of lost siblings, but nothing from our contemporaries. Randy’s response was “who’s really going to talk about that.” Fair point, but I feel like I know much deeper and darker things than this about a great number of people.
Which makes me wonder if that’s just the difference between Randy and me or if it gets bigger and become the difference of men and women. I had two (text-based) conversations about how to support this stranger from secondary circles of friends within 12 hours of hearing the news about her daughter. I don’t think Randy would have even brought it up with his friends. That’s not a dig on him. I can’t imagine men sitting around having the well, “I can’t imagine…” conversations about a pseudo-stranger like I did. They sure as hell wouldn’t bake them a pan of brownies which I did immediately.*
As a child of the ’80s and a wannabe southern belle, these rough situations always make me think of Steel Magnolias. The term is a little much, but the older I get, the more I absolutely believe women are stronger than men could ever imagine. To walk through the world after losing a child is unimaginable to those of us who haven’t experienced it, yet I’ve watched my N’s do it with grace and poise. The rest of us will stay up until midnight with people we barely know if that’s what we are called upon to do. We will talk about these dark things or we’ll tap dance until they are forgotten. We will make casseroles, help plan funerals, run interference between you and your mom at your wedding, if that’s what we are called upon to do. We will pretend to be a work reference and tell you when it’s time to get your head out of your ass and move on. We’ll do whatever it takes for our friends to succeed.
This is a role I have grown into. When needed at 20, I sucked nuts. Today, I hope I am a better friend and a better woman. I am humbled to be a part of my circle of girlfriends, wheither I see them everyday (who am I kidding? I barely see Randy and Eggroll everyday!) or only met once. You are a strong and classy bunch, ladies. Don’t ever change.
*There it is. It always comes back to chocolate!
