Club "W"

I've mentioned here before that in life you are often given the choice to do what is right and what is easy and I guess I know the universe a little better than I should. Last night I did what I do every Monday after work, I rush to Ethan's pre-school to pick up my muppet. Last night was a little different though. I walked in and could sense that something was afoot. Was it the way the teachers looked at me, was it the air of silence around the building; I don't know. What I do know is that I could tell something was about to happen, but to be honest, I thought a teacher was going to tell me that Ethan pooped in his pants or got into a fight over a toy. What I got - I wasn't expecting.

I walked in and Ethan came running up to me. He was happy. Joyful. Ok, I thought to myself, maybe that something that I felt was a bad lunch coming back to haunt me. Then while putting on Ethan's coat one of his teachers came up to me.

"Did you hear?" she said in a very soft and gentle tone. Once I heard this, my observation in people kicked in. I quickly noticed her left hand holding up right as if she didn't know if she should put a hand on my shoulder. Her veins in her hands were standing out; a sign of increased blood flow and heart rate. That gentle tone in her voice, the calm before the storm.

I braced my self and asked, "Hear what?"

She took a long deep breathe and as I waited for her to respond to what seemed like forever my mind started to dart back in forth as to what she was going to say - was she leaving the school and wanted to tell me because she's really fond of Ethan, did Ethan get hurt and I just can't tell from his happy-go-lucky demeanor this night, what?

"Matthew. Ethan's little friend. His dad passed away from cancer this weekend."

My eyes grew twice the size, this was NOT the news that I was expecting and it threw me off my feet. I don't know Matthew or his mum and dad, but my eyes could not help but dart between Ethan's little smiling face beaming up at me and the photo of Christopher I keep in his cubby. My heart broke into a million little pieces and the questions of "Really God?!? Really!?!" all came flooding into the for front of my mind. I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry for this family, this child, the woman who just lost the love of her life. The pain I felt over a year ago came racing upon me, but before those feelings could cross the finish line - I mentally put up a wall for them to crash and burn into.

Ethan's teacher, still holding her hands, looked at me and asked if I was ok and in good ole "d" fashion, I raised an eyebrow, took a deep breathe and said "Yes. Yes I am."

In the end this teacher wanted to know if I would reach out to this woman. To let her know she not alone. But the sad part is. I know her place. Her pain. And the place where her mind dwells is not where you want another stranger dancing around telling you that everything is going to be ok, "see it happened to me and I'm ok". And you don't want to hear that it's going to be hard. That the easy part is over - now you have to figure out how life, your child, your-self all moves forward when all you want to do is be locked into your past. You don't want to hear about how you can love again - you had your love. And to explain that there are people out there who will run away from you the second you tell them that your a "Widow". That the greatest thing in life to over come is that the "dead do no wrongs" and when you do get over that - others around you won't. To know that as you travel through the grieving process and your child are on opposing paths. That while you can't keep it together, your child can and when you have moved past all the grief - your child will just begin to experience it.

No one needs to hear those things coming from a strangers mouth. Even if they went through the same thing. And maybe I'm wrong. But I've been right way more times than I've been wrong. SO. There was my choice. To go the easy road and tell this teacher that I didn't feel comfortable talking to this woman and go on about my sutto-not-so-merry way or do what this teacher thought I could bring to the table; to be there for this woman.

While I thought carefully as to what to say to this woman who came to me in the best meanings of her heart, she stopped me and said, "Oh and I almost forgot. Today we are sitting around in class sharing what we all thought Santa was going to bring us for Christmas and Ethan said..... Santa was bring him his daddy."

For the first time in months I re-felt that physical pain in my heart. Like someone shoved a sharp, rather large splinter into it and while I could feel it I couldn't see to hold it and pull it out. My eyes gazed upon Ethan and in my mind all I could think was how in the hell to I explain this one. Yeah I'm great about writing my feelings and emotions down on paper, but what do I say to Ethan. Confusion and numbness started to flood me from my head down. Double heart break.

I left the school and a small piece of paper with my contact information on it for the child's mother. Do I think she will call or email me? No. Like I said, I'm pretty good at reading people and I'm not often wrong and no-one who just lost the love of their life is going to go rushing to set up a luncheon with a member of Club "W" - because to reach out means it's real. And while all logic forces us to believe in this, you never really want to.

In the end, I will be there for this woman if she does call though. I've never turned down helping a friend when they are in need and I sure as hell am not going to turn down this woman if she reaches out - just because I don't know her. It's not in me.