In August, before Greg's junior year in high school (and his older brother's senior year), Greg came home from football practice and told me that there was a kid on his football team who was having problems at home and needed a place to live. After hearing the details of the problems, I was pretty sure I didn't want to be involved. But Greg wouldn't let it go, so I called the Principal of the high school to see what he knew about this young man. The principle told me that Rich (let's call him Rich) was an exceptional child - athlete - good student - someone we would be glad we had in our home. Greg had it exactly right... after speaking with Rich's mother and grandparents, we invited him to come and stay with us. That meant that we had two high school seniors, one high school junior, and our youngest, who was ten - all living in a house that was less than 1,000 square feet before we closed in the garage - three bedrooms - 1 bathroom.
There's more to the story - rearranging the house - discussions with Rich's grandparents - other families that wanted to help, but for now, all that's important is that this marvelous young man came to spend a small part of his life in our family. Our family was certainly better for his presence in our lives. (Thank you, Greg)
Rich was out of the country on vacation when Greg died, but called me as soon as got home and heard. He wanted to bring his family to visit. We finally came up with August 17th at 10:00am - today.
I woke up not wanting 'company' - didn't feel like company manners - phony smiles - tense and awkward conversations. I didn't feel like I could 'make nice' - especially in front of Rich's wife and children. Not a good day for this.
So I texted him and suggested that if today didn't work, we could reschedule. "No," he said. "I'm coming today. See you at 10:00."
"This is not a great day for me, Rich".
"See you at 10:00."
They showed up late (I was hoping they would change their minds and not come), but they all showed up - Rich, his wife, his 18-year-old daughter (leaving for college this week), and their 11-year-old daughter.
They stayed three hours.
The girls wanted to know about their dad when he was in high school. There were so many things I could have told them, but my mush brain was not cooperating. The main thing I could remember was how much he ate. He ate SO much! This child could polish off EIGHT sloppy Joe's at one sitting - eight hamburger rolls - by himself. I tried to tell them what I could, but my memories were disjointed and scattered. I remembered the gag-reflex smell of football cleats, basketball shoes, baseball cleats, track shoes - three seasons of athletic shoes from thee pair of feet. You can't imagine the smell. In spite of extreme foot odor remembrances, I found myself smiling at the memories.
By the time they left, I hated to see them go. We made plans to get together again before school starts in September.
I wouldn't have believed this morning that I would smile today. Trying to get through the next minute has been all I could handle for several days. The lows are so low they're unimaginable - and there are no highs. There are moments (and longer) when I'm sure I'm losing my mind.
And then something happens - like a visit from someone who cares - and the storm settles - there are tiny glimmers of sun through the clouds - ten minutes passes and I realize I've been breathing without conscious effort - just enough to keep me hanging on for another day.
There's more to the story - rearranging the house - discussions with Rich's grandparents - other families that wanted to help, but for now, all that's important is that this marvelous young man came to spend a small part of his life in our family. Our family was certainly better for his presence in our lives. (Thank you, Greg)
Rich was out of the country on vacation when Greg died, but called me as soon as got home and heard. He wanted to bring his family to visit. We finally came up with August 17th at 10:00am - today.
I woke up not wanting 'company' - didn't feel like company manners - phony smiles - tense and awkward conversations. I didn't feel like I could 'make nice' - especially in front of Rich's wife and children. Not a good day for this.
So I texted him and suggested that if today didn't work, we could reschedule. "No," he said. "I'm coming today. See you at 10:00."
"This is not a great day for me, Rich".
"See you at 10:00."
They showed up late (I was hoping they would change their minds and not come), but they all showed up - Rich, his wife, his 18-year-old daughter (leaving for college this week), and their 11-year-old daughter.
They stayed three hours.
The girls wanted to know about their dad when he was in high school. There were so many things I could have told them, but my mush brain was not cooperating. The main thing I could remember was how much he ate. He ate SO much! This child could polish off EIGHT sloppy Joe's at one sitting - eight hamburger rolls - by himself. I tried to tell them what I could, but my memories were disjointed and scattered. I remembered the gag-reflex smell of football cleats, basketball shoes, baseball cleats, track shoes - three seasons of athletic shoes from thee pair of feet. You can't imagine the smell. In spite of extreme foot odor remembrances, I found myself smiling at the memories.
By the time they left, I hated to see them go. We made plans to get together again before school starts in September.
I wouldn't have believed this morning that I would smile today. Trying to get through the next minute has been all I could handle for several days. The lows are so low they're unimaginable - and there are no highs. There are moments (and longer) when I'm sure I'm losing my mind.
And then something happens - like a visit from someone who cares - and the storm settles - there are tiny glimmers of sun through the clouds - ten minutes passes and I realize I've been breathing without conscious effort - just enough to keep me hanging on for another day.
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