Growing up too soon

At 10pm, last night, I picked up a recorded message from my daughter's school principal. The news was bad. Not "Your daughter clocked a kid" kinda bad. This was indescribably bad. A student in the school had died & families were being advised that there would be grief counsellors at the school over the next few days. I told you in was indescribably bad.

I mulled this over in my head for a while. How do I explain what's happened to my children? Will I frighten them if I try to explain this first thing in the morning, before school? I decided to let it play out on its own. I didn't have enough information to deal with the situation properly. Did my daughter know the student? Was it someone in her class? Was it an accident that occurred at school? Was the child ill? So many questions that I wouldn't be able to answer, so I let it be. I filed it under my "to dos", to be handled after I had contacted the school for more information.

The receptionist only told me that the young boy was in the 4th grade. It happened at school. A note would be sent home to advise us of when the memorial service would take place. I didn't have the heart to ask any further questions. I'd find a way to explain this with the information I had...once I got home from work.

I asked my daughter how her day went, prepared to discuss the loss of a fellow student, but she beat me to it. "Mommy, it was a sad day today. A boy in my school died. Mrs. Peacock told us & we had a special guest come to tell about the boy who died." Her eyes were wide & full of question. She looked as though she needed to hear that even though this poor child was taken away far too soon, that things would turn out okay. I wasn't quite prepared to tell her that & fluff it over. No, she had been exposed to the fragility of life & there was no going back. I held her close & prepared myself to deal with an onslaught of questions, but there was only silence.

I still remember the first time I was exposed to death. I was the same age as my daughter & my cousin, who was only a year older, had passed away. I remember the tears & uncertainty. That day, I grew up a little. I remember that feeling & wish so much that I could protect my children from it. Sadly, I cannot. All the bubble-wrap in the world won’t protect them from the hurts to come. All the camomile tea in the world won’t sedate me enough to make it through this part of parenthood unscathed.

And through all these emotions & questions, I send my prayers of comfort to a family who lost their little boy...friends who lost a buddy...a school that will always remember the time a shadow befell it, one tragic March day.