Sadness

Tonight the kid and I had his big going away to college dinner. We got all dressed up and headed to Gearhart to celebrate.

While I sat there and listened to him talk about his future, his plans, his hopes and dreams, his life, I remembered 8 years ago.

He was heading off to his first day of fifth grade. His first day at a new school. The tv was on, which was odd since we never had it on in the morning. I was nervous. He was nervous. We were hardly paying attention to anything but the butterfly feelings we were experiencing. The tv was in the back ground. When the tv suddenly became the focus. The events that were taking place. The horror that was unfolding before our very eyes. It was as if the entire morning took on a slow motion effect, I couldn't look away. I turned off the tv and headed off to school, his first day, now not important and yet, so important, as if I was searching for normal that wasn't going to be found ever again.

The school was packed. Parents shocked and kids, thankfully, unaware. We left in huge groups. People we didn't know meeting up with other people we didn't know and yet we needed them. We grouped together on the sidewalk and watched tv through the window. And cried. And didn't understand. And hurt. Oh, the hurt, so unbelievable painful. Hugged and moved on to our cars and headed to our home. Home that a few hours ago had been a sanctuary and now, now just seemed broken.

The ex and I walked our dog. Our neighborhood was quiet, since we are on the flight path and all flights had been grounded. The neighbors were out, somber, scared, shaken, just like we were. Hugs were exchanged. For a moment, we were all one. One large group trying to make sense of a senseless act. Trying to decided how to regroup, how to explain to children the unexplainable. How to make sense of something that had no rhyme or reason. In the end, it was people hugging, crying and just giving in to the emotion of unbelievable sadness.

Now it is eight years later. Time has gone on and the raw emotion of that day has passed. Yet, has it really? Doesn't everyone remember where they were? How they felt? What they did? How they reached out? That kindness and compassion were what we gave away in abundance. Expecting nothing in return. Isn't that how it is suppose to be?

Tonight, as I watched a bubbly, enthusiastic eighteen year old get ready to embark on the start of his adult life, I gave a thought to that day, and the parents who don't get to have this moment. My heart broke all over again.