21

We had a birthday in our family last week, Emily turned 21.  As much as I have looked forward to this, I had been dreading it, but not for the reasons you may think.  Curtis was killed 5 weeks shy of his 21st birthday.  As the date approached, I couldn't help but think about the milestone he never reached. 

It makes me think of a family from my hometown that I used to babysit for.  They were a very faithful family and had five children.  John was my brothers age, and during their 5th grade year, he died suddenly of a brain aneurysm.  Their next child, Jeff, was mowing the ditch near their home a few years later, also during his 5th grade year, rolled the tractor, killing him as well.  I cannot imagine how they got through the death of another child.  As their next child approached 5th grade, I am told she started having troubles, panic attacks, wondering if she too would suffer the same fate.  Jill made it though that year, but sadly, in her senior year she and 2 other young girls went off the road in broad day light, striking a tree, killing them all.  My heart breaks for this family, it always has. 

I guess I write this story because I have felt like Jill over the past several weeks, and to some extent the past two years.  Could this happen again?  I worry about Emily constantly.  I know it is a parents job to worry about their children, but I sometimes feel it is excessive, much more than before.  I talked recently to another mother who lost her son, and she has felt the same way about her surviving daughter, almost to the point of compromising their relationship.

I try not to let on to Emily how I worry.  I want her to be happy, nothing is more important to me.  Finding a happy medium between worry and letting go may always be difficult for me.   I have to remember to treasure the times we have together, and not let those thoughts take over. 

Happy Birthday Emily, I am so proud of the woman you have become.