Life Goes On

In January, when I was with Kyle (and still with child) in Connecticut at my parents’ house, we video-chatted with Stewart here at home. We do this often from home with my parents, me urging Kyle to say hi to Gramma and Grampa. Often he is too busy or sullen to sit still and delight them, but other times he says “Ah Luff YOUUU!” or he sings or shows them things or dances. We use Skype video with a little Logitech webcam that was a gift from friends. It’s a great way to keep them present for him even though they are so far away. Now my parents get to see Brady grow from afar, and he sure does a lot of that!

During our January chat with Stewart, he told me that he had very bad news. My stomach immediately clenched and I prepared my spirit for the worst. After all, he never says things like that. Plus, we were having this discussion over the internet. There’s little comfort in the cold screen and no chance of hugging.

I couldn’t imagine what he was referring to. Then he told me – one of his students, a team member on the Formula Car project – had died. It was someone I had met, a 35-year-old graduate student whose wife was some kind of humanitarian worker. And at the time, she was pregnant with their first child.

His name was Greg and he died of heart failure. I didn’t know these people – I had never met his wife – but I was tortured with sadness, for I could not help but imagine how desperately sad I would be if Stew was gone right before Kyle was born. It’s beyond words.

Stew was out of town during the memorial, and I could not bring myself to attend, knowing that I would fall to pieces in front of Greg’s poor wife.

And recently I heard that she, with her new baby, her promise of life and remembrance, went to the Formula Car competition. An event that I beg out of every year because “I have a newborn” or “I have a one-year-old” or “I have a 2-year-old and a newborn.” She attended to support her lost husband and all of his efforts, yet I who have my husband here alive and warm went to my friend’s house and ate French toast while all the other moms kept their eyes on my kids.

I bring this story up now because there was a party for the Formula Car team over the weekend, and one of the students told me about Melanie Holden’s blog. I checked it out just now and I didn’t get very far before dissolving into tears, but what struck me the most is that on the home page, the current posts are full of joy and pride in her son Reece. There are tales of sadness, of course, but mostly it’s about her forward movement, propelled by her son’s life, not by her husband’s death. (Click on the January 2007 archive on the right to see how dramatically her posts changed.)

I’ve written many times about my new terror – the fear of losing one of my children or my husband or any other person I love dearly – and this blog reminds me of it but somehow gives me comfort. It’s amazing what blogs can do to complete strangers, things that the writer never intended.