The souls of the innocent fly higher.
PinF attended the parent volunteer breakfast this morning at Sophia's school. Not that I'm able to volunteer as much as I would like; still I try to chaperone a few trips a year, so it was nice to be invited.
Couldn't but help to have a few frantic thoughts as I listened with dread of the horrors at VT on NPR on the car radio. Suddenly as I listened to painfully sad and tortured descriptions of grieving parents, family, and friends my commitment to this breakfast was no longer an inconvenience to my day. It was now my honor to attend. To savor the "little moments" of my daughter's life--all too aware they march staedily onward, slowing for no one. The inconsequential, mundane, and easily forgettable and less pronounced moments of a child's life are exactly what grief feeds on in the darkest hours. Just ask any of the parents now assembled in Virginia.
As I neared school I couldn't bear the descriptively painful narratives any longer. I changed the channel. Could I possibly expect to hear worse news? As I listened to the local news I was slowly gutted by the lead story being broadcast of a local woman who had left her twin ten-month olds in the bath tub with their two year-old sibling. She returned 10 minutes later to find the twins floating, and dead.
Horrified I listened while trying to not pass any judgements. Heaven only knows the pain and grief this woman is experiencing. Still being human usually brings out the worst thoughts in all of us, and so I, like any other parent, began to ask myself what parent in their right mind lets even a two year-old alone in the bath, let alone twins of ten-months? Shame on her. I cannot say she got what she deserved, because no one deserves that type of tragedy, least of all two innocent souls. Surely time will bear out the facts, though one fact is clear--she failed these children miserably.
I arrive to the school. Sun shining, birds chirping, cobalt blue sky, temperatures in the upper 70's... The kind of day that makes you recall the Spring of your own youth. Flush from the heartbreaking news of the day full of sadness, loss, and waste I hustle in so I'm not late.
I was told I spoil my daughter. Thank God I do, lest she ever doubt just how crazy I am about her. Besides, the way I figure it isn't really spoiling them when they're good, polite, happy children; it's just a little more love for being such a good girl.
The calming effect that an elementary school evokes is such a strong emotion, even for the hardest of souls. For it is elementary school where we all faced the same fears for the first time in our lives. At my table sat an older gentleman, we were more noticeable being 2 of five men in attendance out of 50 women. he looked about 65, said he was from Cuba and his name was Pablo. He had come to the US 47 years ago, how nice of a grandfather I thought to myself as the principal welcomed us with her opening remarks.
Next to me sat an attractive woman about my age. She too was here for her daughter. The woman made the faux-pais that PinF luckily avoided--she asked Pablo about his "grandaughter". The blush in her cheeks was understandable when Pablo replied he was there for his "daughter" He told us he comes every Tuesday and volunteers in his daughter Lupe's class tutoring the children in math. He was beaming, and commenting how hard school was as a child in Cuba, and how fortunate he considers himself to be to see his child in such a good school. He told us how it was that his daughter keeps him young, and gives his life purpose. Very touching words indeed. Pablo then told us both that he turns 84 this month. God bless him.
No one expects to lose their child. No one expects murder to come knocking anywhere near their child's school either. Schools are safe, they are fun. Children laugh innocently in the hallways as class changes; decorating those halls are wonderful works of art--simple, pure, and colorful.
As PinF sat listening to the PTA president I thought about that grieving mother of the two lost twins, then I looked across the table at the proud father, then my mind flashed back to the grieving Virginia campus--all of this in few seconds. In that moment I could imagine feeling all 3 emotions--If God forbid, I was the parent of any of these children or circumstances. Luckily for me, I'm the proud papi of Sophia, and ever so content to be so; thoroughly enjoying the ride as she grows wiser and more beautiful daily.
Why wouldn't I spoil her? I feel spoiled to have her.
