Day 142
Sad day today. Early this morning Dawn received at text from an old girlfriend, Jennifer, with some terrible news – Jennifer's husband David died yesterday afternoon without any warning. Dawn being Dawn, she rushed into action and was on her way to Jennifer's house within 15 minutes of receiving the text. I think that says a lot about where she is on her journey with grief.
We've known Jennifer, David and their kids, Ben and Addy, for eight or nine years. Damian was enrolled in the same elementary school as Ben (and later Addy). Jennifer and I served on the Parent Teacher Board together. She and I got to know each other first but once she met Dawn they became good friends. They did a lot together for awhile but after we all left McGinnis Woods they didn't stay in regular contact. After Damian died, Jennifer and Dawn had been texting back and forth trying to arrange a time to meet for lunch. If I understand correctly, they were planning to meet sometime this week.
I met David at a school function and took a liking to him. I remember helping him with setting up lights and a PA system for an outdoor, after dark fund raiser for the school. He was down to earth. Laid back. I think he was a couple years younger than me. I hadn't seen David in three or four years, but he and Ben came to Damian's visitation service. (Jennifer was sick and couldn't come.) I was touched that they came.
As I lay in bed this morning after Dawn had left the house, I was imaging what Jennifer and the kids were going through and what their week would entail. All I could think of was the day after Damian had died and being on some kind of autopilot setting. I was functioning, making decisions, but in a detached way, like part of me was outside my own body. I remember clearly being at the funeral home making the arrangements but not as me. Looking back on it, I feel like that was another person. The person from that day is no longer. I am different now. I survived the darkest hours of my life and came out of it a changed person. Now that test is upon another family. People that I know and care about. And now they too will be on autopilot, at least for awhile, making the funeral arrangements, coordinating with family and close friends, having the funeral and then staring into the unknown, asking "what comes next?"
I am glad that Dawn could be there today for Jennifer. I know she will need help just like we did. So will the kids. If nothing else, my hope is that they are eventually able to see by Dawn's example, that it is ok to reconnect with life. Not to get passed it, but to move forward again. Not today, tomorrow, this week or next. These are all reserved for the trauma and the mourning. But eventually.
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