This morning a friend messaged that one of my old colleagues lost his son over the weekend. The last time I saw my colleague was 16 years ago, so to me his son was still 4 years old. Turns out his son was 20 and living in Colorado. He died in a snowboarding accident.
As we all do in this social network world we live in, I checked my colleague Facebook status to learn more about what happened. Instead of details, I found the most beautifully written tribute to his son. He started his post by saying that February 3 made him smile because it was the last time he talked with his son.
None of us can imagine the pain a parent feels losing a child at any age unless they’ve been through it. One of my best friends has been through it and though I have walked with her through her journey, I have no idea the pain involved. That’s why my colleague’s post spoke to me. Instead of writing what people usually do when someone passes away, he immediately remembered the good. Right off the bat. That’s a wink of goodness in the midst of turmoil.
The older I become, the more I relish these winks and avidly seek them. Sometimes they’re large, and sometimes they’re so tiny we need a microscope to point them out. The important thing is that they’re there. Every day, there is a wink from somewhere guiding our way and pushing us to go on when we don’t think that we can.
My heart breaks for my former co-worker and his wife and younger son. There nothing anyone can say to ease their pain or shock, but what he said about his son moves us in the right direction. “February 3 makes me smile.” We have to hold onto to those moments because those are the ones that matter.