Thursday, January 18, 2018

The Odds

It was two Christmases after Aviana died. Maybe three. I'd been substitute teaching for almost three months. For the last day before holiday break, a one on one with a resource student sounded perfect. And he was.

For the grieving, a paper plan can unexpectedly smack. And on this day, it did.

Middle schoolers are my sweet spot, but while in jammies, exchanging gifts, and watching Rudolf, they became too much. My head swirled, then split. My heart broke. Sad, because December had been pretty good, but here I was with not one of my "go-to" saves (think of the good - running water, transportation, heat, health, a good family, husband, Rainey... Think of those who have it worse...) working.

I was stuck in a minute by minute of what I waited for and wanted to do with Aviana. An hour by hour of what I wished for her to experience.

I wanted to leave, but two live inside me; love and pain. Love usually wins, so instead I walked the movie lit classroom, asking the kids if they wanted more cookies, cake, or juice. 

At lunch, I breathed in and out, hoping to calm my head and make it through the rest of the day. On my way out of the break room, a card caught my eye. Pinned to the wall and above a sweet girl's face was the very same quote on my blog and underneath Aviana, "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." I unpinned and read the back of the card. The family thanked the school for their support and remembrance of their daughter.

Who was this girl? Who was this family who lost their girl? For whatever happened, my heart hurt. I wanted to know, but the day was much too festive to ask.

After break I was in my friend Liz's office. There again was the card, but with a hand written Oct. 26th. I asked. Liz cried. She told me sweet stories about this smart girl. Because we'd just finished The Elves, Liz knew about Aviana. We spoke of the penciled date. That's when I told her that both our daughters died on the same day, same year. October 26, 2013. We stood, hugging each other in disbelief.

Liz asked if it was okay if she connected me with the girl's mom. I said yes, but wondered because grief coupled with grief can work well or be a little awkward.

This mom and I spoke, met, and became fast friends. Same with the four of us, and their son. Did you know Rainey's particular about her friends too? Well she's in love with a beagle. 

Whether this mom and I, the four of us, or all together... I believe we were placed here for each other, because while in conversation, on a trip, or sharing dinners, there's a spoken or unspoken knowing. An understanding. It's a comfort I rarely feel and am eternally grateful for.

In life, I'm unsure of the odds or balance, but what I have noticed, is when certain things are taken, others appear. This family is one of our greatest gifts, and was given at the perfect time.  

1 comment:

  1. I've learned over time that there really aren't any random events in life and I'm so grateful for all of them. After all, look how I found you. I hope you two families can share all the love you have to give.
    Love you guys,
    Dixie

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