Today I write with a heavy heart. It's a day that has made me happy to have my kids to hold, to have them safe and warm in their beds, to have them healthy and happy in their bodies.
One of Tristan's very best friends is gravely ill. He was doing well, living his happy life. He is a wonderful kid, kind and caring and fun. Tristan has few good friends yet somehow these two linked, they just "got" each other. I think that's part of what makes it so hard.
Tristan had been over to his friends house and had enjoyed playing in the orchards with him, picking and tossing apples and playing "scuba man" together. He has come to our house where they ate ice cream bars and jumped on the trampoline together. He was supposed to come visit our house one day about two weeks ago and his mother called to say that he was sick. Well he never came back to school and we later found out that he was in the hospital.
Fast forward to today when I talked to his Dad. This friend is sick. Not just flu sick, not something curable that he'll get over sick. He is SICK. He is change-your-life-forever sick. He is never-going-to-jump-on-the-trampoline-again sick. And it's breaking my heart.
I remember how hard it was on me, at age 27, to lose my best friend. I can't imagine having to deal with it at Tristan's age. Or even worse, how to deal with it as a parent. That's not to say that there's not hope. There is. There's hope that a miracle could happen, that a drug could be found to help, that his life could be longer than his dad made it seem. But the opposite could also be true. And that's what gets me.
So, as I was reminded today by his dad, I am urging you to go give your kids a huge hug. Hug them hard, hug them long, and think again how lucky you are to have them in your life.