When someone passes away, I tend to write about it. It helps me sort through my thoughts and emotions by seeing them written (typed) out. But when a six year old passes away, I don't think there's really any way to sort it out. My neighbor, Reagan Purdy, was killed in a car accident last weekend. Just seeing that...it still doesn't calculate. She and her dad were driving back from a bird hunting session out east. I don't know the details--they really don't matter, and I wouldn't embellish on them publicly anyway--but I do know that someone who was driving down the wrong side of the road caused the accident. She died. Their dog died. Her dad is stable and recovering...God Bless him. Reagan and my daughter, Ruby, were very good friends. Ruby is four, and has a hard time wrapping her head around death, in general. She doesn't quite grasp it yet, but understands that she won't see her friend again. She does find a unique happiness, though, in knowing that Reagan is always with her. Whenever she looks up at the moon, she becomes incredibly--almost inappropriately excited. "Hi Reagan! Hi Reagan!! Look everybody, it's Reagan!! She's in the moon!" The two people close to her that have passed away in her short lifetime are safe, happy, and looking down on all of us from the moon. Reagan...and Ruby's Nana. And strangely enough, I find comfort in that also. To me, it's really more than just a cute little four year old's rationale--but more of a distinct spiritual possibility. Ruby is confident Reagan is looking down on her from the moon. And it's not just Ruby--Reagan is visiting our neighborhood kiddos in their dreams, while they're playing in the backyard, and at night from high in the sky. Whether they comprehend the severity of this tragedy or not, Reagan seems to be with them, by their side, comforting them. To them, this "presence" is a reality, not just a memory. And man, I hope it is. Reagan and the the rest of the littles in the neighborhood have taught me plenty these past few days. They have brought together an already close community of neighbors and friends. Regardless of sex, race, political affiliation, age, occupation, religion, or whatever other separating categories you can come up with, we are all leaning on one another by the hour. These children are not only looking at us for comfort, they are leaning on each other, too. Playing, talking about the tragedy in their own way, remembering Reagan as if she were right there. And maybe she is. I would really like to think so. //re:
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AuthorI am Earl. Archives
May 2024
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