A friend died this week. She was my wife’s best friend.
It’s been a tough week.
She was a mom. A seven month old baby boy and a nine-year old daughter. Her passing plays up on one of my own fears – dying and leaving my kids without their daddy.
At the memorial, I held her son. So innocent, his eyes wide and looking around with wonder and joy because he had no idea what had happened, how much of a sharp turn his life had just taken.
The daughter wasn’t there. She was with her dad, the ex-husband, who, due to some sort of feud, decided none of his family would attend. This also plays into my fears about dying before my kids are grown up – them being left at the mercy of others who may not behave or raise them in ways I would want.
So a sad day, a sad week, tinged with anger and disbelief.
The world has lost a very kind, very generous woman who was also a loving mother.
My wife has lost a dear friend.
A seven month old baby has lost his mother, will grow up never knowing her, never fully grasping what he lost.
A nine-year old girl will continue on, knowing exactly who she has lost, exactly how her life has changed.
I don’t know which is worse, to be that infant robbed of having memories of a mommy, or the little girl who has those memories and has seen them cut off forever.
Make no mistake, both situations are terrible and tragic and unfair. But which one is worse?
I honestly don’t know.
All I can say is that there is no justice in a world that would rob us of a friend, a confidant, a fiance, a mommy.