This road we call life...

I loved High School. I got straight A's. I had lots of friends. The teachers liked me. I had a social life. Every week in senior calculus, my friend Janie would pass me the same note -
"Are you going to the game Friday? Want to do something afterward?" And then we'd make our plans, either to ride the fan bus to the away game or to meet for the home game. Basketball or Football. It didn't matter. Just so we met and spent the evening with our group of friends. Living in a home with a clinically depressed single mother, school was my safe haven. My place to be what I was supposed to be - a teenager with lots of potential. At home, I was often the parent, the youngest of four kids who had the responsibility of being my mom's companion and making sure things were always ok. I still carry that responsibility, but that's another blog.

I was reminded of my love of high school this weekend at that state basketball tournament. The student section was awesome. Some students gave up their seats on the floor to move to the top section to sit with other kids. They were great. There was every imaginable combination of blue and yellow clothing, hair color, jewelry, socks, shoes. They were all just thrilled to be there showing their support and enthusiasm - and individuality. They were truly just delighting in the happiness of being together. What else was there that weekend? Nothing. Nothing but their perfect teenage world.

Then on the way home Friday night, we got a call from Paul's parents. His grandmother was dying. So we fed the kids and got them settled with friends and drove to Pana to sit with his parents in the hospital by Grandma's bed. We had gone from the breathless, giddy joy of youth to the dying breaths of a precious 95-year old mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. We stayed for a couple hours and were told to go on home - nothing we could do. We offered to send our kids to the tournament the next day with friends and come back to spend the day on Saturday. No, his parents said. Enjoy the day with your family. There's not a thing you can do and you need this time with your kids. We enjoyed our day with the kids and on the way home at about 8:30 last night the cell phone rang. We knew. Grandma had passed at 7:17. I know one thing for certain. My mother and father in-law decided not to call when they knew we were in that stadium. They had decided not to call and take away Paul's joy of the moment. They were very SELFLESS in that. One other thing I know for certain. My mother would not have given me that gift. She would have made sure the sadness and misery were spread as soon as she had them in her hands. I will always appreciate my in-laws for that; for thinking of Paul and for loving him enough to allow him every last drop of joy before flooding him with the sadness that we knew was coming. And now, after canceling a business trip to Belgium, Paul will be their pillar. I know he will. That's just the kind of man he is. I hope I can be his pillar.