Runaway Train

Death has enveloped 2016 like a burial shroud.  Famous people, close friends, the guy next door, and now a young girl…my son’s friend.  He tells me it was suicide…her mother told him.  I’ve seen more than my fair share of tears this year, and now I’m seeing those same tears reflected in the eyes of my baby boy.

Knowing how to handle such things is not in my wheelhouse.  All I see is that my son is hurting that there’s nothing I can do to stem the tide of pain that’s engulfing him.  His head hangs, and his body is tired.  We’ve both had a rough year.  

We held hands on the car ride home from school.  His fingers were clammy, tears were formed and then fell.  We didn’t talk much…we didn’t have to.  The hurt was palpable.  

I wanted to write a blog today about the future and all of its promise…but all I’m able to think about is that there’s a child out there who no longer has the option of a future.  Something in her mind was so bad, that she could see no other option, no path to redemption.  No light at the end of the tunnel.  This makes my soul ache, and my heart cry out in pain.  No child should feel like death is the only escape.  

It can’t rain forever.


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