On vertigo and loss

One of my students, one of my very favorite students, a brilliant, mop-topped Led Zeppelin fan named Will, lost his father this weekend. He had an aneurysm.

Some of you here (Amanda, romy, Sherry, Reverend Tim) were around when my mother died, 'way back in 1987 - April 2, just shy of my high school graduation and my 18th birthday. I remember the feeling of... vertigo, I guess - the sense that you get when you ride one of those barrel-roller things at the county fair, the ones that spin you like a pair of socks in a dryer, the floor drops out below you, and you stick to the wall.

Losing a parent feels kind of like that, I guess. I have learned a few things in the intervening years since 1987 (and 1999, when I lost my own dad) - and the most significant one is that there ain't a damned thing anyone can say to make you feel any better. People try - people tried very hard when I lost my mom; not so much when I lost my dad (either adults are wiser, or less empathetic - judging from the quality of friends I've been blessed with, I'd go with the former and say my friends have that sublime skill of knowing when just to shut up and let a guy cry).

So, please pray for Will. At least for me, I was nearly 18 when I lost my mom, and just past 30 when I lost my dad. The sense of loss one must feel to lose a parent at so young an age... his mother is now faced with raising four children alone, which truly boggles my mind. I can't even wrap my head around this tragedy.

Please pray for the Hawley family of Washougal, Washington.