The hole in my heart

There is a hole in my heart today, a hole in my boy's school, and a hole in our community.  I try to keep my blog posts whimsical and uplifting - unfortunately this post will not be like that. This post in in honor of my boy's principal who passed away this weekend (I think due to complications from a heart attack).  To respect his family, who doesn't know me from Eve, I will just call him Mr. C. 

Ever since Mr. C found my son standing by the side of the road waiting for his daycare to pick him up after school (they left without him)- and sent him back inside to the warmth and safety of the secretaries office so she could call me to come and get him - Mr. C has been a saint in my book.  He is the principal that knew every kids name and was constantly seen walking the halls/perimeter of the school interacting with the students/parents/teachers.  He was a very hands on principal who held little competitions over the school intercom and kept kids active.  To put it simply - he was a great man.

I had a family tragedy of my own a few years ago so I am all to familiar to the damn grief cycle and right now I am MAD. Real MAD. Not at Mr. C - heck no - I could never be mad at him - I am mad that such a wonderful man who touched so many lives and affected the future of our children was taken away at such a young age.  He was only 53.   I'm mad at myself for never thinking about the fact that he also had a family of his own - because to me that school was his family.  I am mad that despite him living a healthy life and being a runner - that it wasn't enough.  I am mad for many other selfish reasons.  I am also sad - so very sad because I know he still had a long fulfilling life ahead of him and it was taken away from him to soon. 

I hope this blog post helps me find some peace because damn it - I don't want to put on my big girl panties and deal with the reality that this is life - that it happens every day to loved one. I know that first hand from my own tragedy and it just reminds me that I don't deal well with death.  Friends I know have lost parents, siblings, and even spouses and I haven't dealt well with those losses either. I have a hard time comforting them properly perhaps because I know first hand the pain they are feeling - and it adds and extra hole to my heart to know I can't help them - I can't take away their pain - I can't change the outcome - and that quite possibly the only way the pain softens a little is with time and the only way they will know that is with time.  There is no use telling them that 'time heals' because it takes a long - long time.  You will never fully get over the heartache, but the ache will eventually soften.

I am currently reading a book called Miler Markers by Kristin Armstrong and just yesterday I read a paragraph that seems truer today than yesterday. "When people are hurting we want to reach out, help, solve, assist, support, love and comfort.  Yet our desires are often thwarted by futility. We can't cure cancer. We can't heal a child.  For as much as we wish we could, we can't always make things okay." I think that sums up pretty well how helpless and mad I currently feel.

I hate the saying 'everything happens for a reason', because I see no reason for the loss of my loved one, my friend's brother, my friend's husband, or Mr. C.  They were all good people - and instead bad people still get to live on this earth. 

Right now I think the best thing I can do is to continue to remind my children that they need to properly honor Mr. C by doing what I can only assume he would have wanted them to do - and that is to live their life to the fullest, always try their hardest and do their best, never take life for granted, and to always be respectful, responsible, and ready to learn. 

I'll end this post in tears and by trying to remind all of us to practice some of the words in the country song "live like you were dying".  Hug your kids longer tonight, give them extra kisses, and hope that the hundreds of kids that had Mr. C as a principal are dealing with this better than I am.