The Last Time

My husband's mom, whom my children called Nana, died tonight. If only we knew the last time we would see someone was the last time. If only we knew we wouldn't have another chance to hug that person, laugh with them, pamper them, let them know how much they are loved. Maybe we would do it better if we knew it was the last time. My mother-in-law had been in the hospital for going on three weeks, but the doctor kept assuring us her condition wasn't life threatening. And yet, she kept declining. Today at about 5 pm she slipped into a coma. An hour later, she left us for good. There are no words. So here is a picture of her with my kids when they were younger. She was so beloved.

Lost Boy

An 11th grader from my daughter's school, an Asian kid who was in her Spanish class, jumped from the roof of his building last night, a suicide. The news spread through the students' Facebook/ phone text/ IM network like wildfire, with a long line of Facebook statuses saying simply "R.I.P."

I asked my daughter what this kid had been like. She said, "Quiet. He always seemed tired. He always put his head down on the desk in class. I mean, he had friends, kids liked him. But he was quiet."

Why don't we ever see tragedy in the making?

There will be psychologists and grief counselors in attendance tomorrow as the students file back into school. There's even a meeting for the parents at 6:30 p.m. None of it will bring this kid, Chris Chin was his name, I feel that I should name him, say he was here, none of it will bring heartbroken Chris Chin back from the edge of that building.

Rest in peace.