Okay...no pics with this, sorry, I forgot my camera. And I am using some "real" names. For real.
Chief, BDILE, BSE, Z-Man, Flower and I went to a very special birthday party today. Noah turned one. A certain milestone for any child...that first year is so crammed with "stuff". But, this one was even more special. Noah's Daddy is with Jesus. Not that Noah has any clue that his precious father was in an accident and died while in a coma several days later, but he will wonder, someday, "whatever happened to my daddy?" Stephen Duecker was exactly 22 years, 2 months and 20 days old on the day that he died. On 2-20. Lots of 2's. Kind of weird. I am sure there's a significance in there somewhere, I just don't have the mind to figure it all out.
Still...it does make you wonder about life in and of itself. How precious it is. How long it ISN'T. How we take it for granted. How we glide through each and every day on a wing and a prayer and never for a moment wonder why. Why? No answer. Not one. Not even a HINT. A whisper. A glimpse. How so very sad it is that Sierra lost her love and Noah and Isaiah lost their daddy. How Noah never said "good-bye...see ya later, Pops." How Stephen missed this milestone in Noah's life. He never witnessed his first steps...he'll never hear him speak his first words. Noah will grow up, turn 5, 10, 15, graduate, go to college, get married and have children of his own (should the Lord tarry) and never have known his daddy. I just want to know how precious life is. Not just because my friends lost their precious son, but because I KNOW it is. In my heart...deep down in places we don't talk about much. In that place that makes you cry just to MENTION anything that remotely resembles the tiniest glimmer of your bare soul. When you think of how much you love your child. Your Mom or Dad. Your closest and dearest friend. Then they're gone. In a twinkling. In less than a blink. You think you have all this time. You don't. You wonder... "should I call" or "should I send this card"? You should. Most definately.
So...after a few hours of watching everyone play cool yard games and 3-year-old Isaiah take 2-year-old Z-man for a spin in his cool toy jeep around the grass (and hit a bush), singing to the birthday boy and eating cake, we went home. In the car, we talked about how good Dave and Cindy looked, how proud we were that Sierra had a good job, how she seemed together, and talked with our own little girl...Chicken, but not a word about Stephen. How much we missed him, (even though we hadn't seen him in "ages" before the hospital) or how he would have loved the party. Even that if Stephan were still alive, we probably wouldn't have even BEEN at the party. Bizarre, the stream of events that bring us full circle.
Happy birthday, Noah. And here's to many, many more.
1 comment:
Oh wow. The death of a parent to a young child is always so sad. But I think sadder still are the events afterward that that parent is not a part of.
How very sad. And, I didn't know about the "2" thing. Creepy.
I've been meaning to email you. I spend so much less time online lately!
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