On the death of a child
A friend of Cassie's from school was killed crossing the road to his house yesterday.
We found out via Facebook, in that small town way that local media will post that a road has been closed because of an accident, and then update that a child was killed, and then update further with his name and address once that information has been released.
I was just browsing FB on my phone, and the whole headline didn't really sink in at first. I saw "East Road," and "8-year old boy," and assumed at first that it was an accident in the larger (still not very large) city to the south of us. But then the name of our town sunk in, and also the realization that that road is one of the ones where the speed limits are routinely ignored.
We live in a valley, and a state route runs through the middle. A little higher, on each side of the valley, there is East road and West road. We used to live on the east side of the state road and took East road frequently, to the doctor's office or to Jay's office. Now we live on the west side and take West road to Quentin's school or to the mall.
Both of these roads are the combination of direct and back-road enough to become dangerous.
The details aren't really out yet. We know it happened around 3 pm, and that he had a friend with him (who is fine), but they haven't said that he was crossing from the bus. If he were, they probably would have.
Cassie was at dance class when we saw the announcement. We didn't yet know if he was a student at her school (there's only one public elementary, but there's also a Catholic school in town), what grade he was in, or whether she knew him. One of the kindergarten teachers called the house to postpone kindergarten orientation today, because the school would be in mourning and they didn't want to introduce the kindergarteners in that environment. This was smart. It's also how I found out that he did indeed go to Cassie's school, and that he was in third grade.
Jay decided to tell her in the car when he picked her up from dance. I don't know why. The dance school is literally less than a minute from our house (normally she would walk, but it was raining yesterday.)
She came into the house with her eyes all red, and at first she didn't even want to talk. She's a sensitive kid, and I knew that no matter whether she knew him or not, the death of someone who went to her school would hit her hard. But it turns out that she did know him. He was a kid that she would chat with in the morning before the final bell rung, and that she hung out with sometimes at the youth center. He played Minecraft. Apparently he told her once that he wanted to be a vet.
That was one of the things she came to me and said later that night, with tears in her eyes. He wanted to be a vet, and now he never will be.
This is Cassie's first real experience with death. She was only 2 years old when my grandfather died. And even Quentin, at 5, isn't really fully grasping the situation. He repeats the facts, "A kid died. He was hit by a car. It's sad." But he doesn't fully understand what that really means. His Lego characters die regularly, and get up and start playing again.
Cassie took a long time to fall asleep last night. I let her stay up an extra half hour because I knew she didn't want to be alone. When she came down around 10pm to complain that she couldn't sleep, we decided to try listening to some Irish folktales on CD to distract her mind so her body could sleep. It took about three stories before that worked.
The school is prepared to deal with the day. They have brought extra counselors in, and I assume they'll be talking to the kids in smaller groups or letting them know that they can ask to talk to someone. They advised everyone not to keep their kids home from school, because routine + extra support is the best way forward.
Me, my first reaction was a kind of empathetic horror. I think that most parents who hear this kind of news imagine themselves in the situation of this boy's family. My first instinct is to reemphasize street safety for my kids, even though that's probably not particularly helpful.
I've always had this weird fear that Quentin's connection to this world wasn't strong. I'm generally not a very spiritual person, and I reject a lot of woo, but I felt myself conceive Cassie, and I had chosen her name before Jay and I had even married. She's always sort of been part of my view of the future. She's solidly connected to the world.
Quentin caught me completely by surprise. Even after a miscarriage, and when we weren't particularly trying, I had no idea I was pregnant with him until I had some weird gum bleeding and the dentist asked if I might be pregnant. And then I got in a car accident when I was 6 months pregnant with him. And then I fell down a flight of stairs and his carseat flew out of my hand. I started feeling like the universe had it out for him or something.
I guess another way to think of it is that he's had enough near misses that the universe is looking out for him. I just can't bear to think about this tender body that I love so dearly being brutalized by a fast moving car. It's obviously a cliché, what they say about having a child being like your heart walking around outside of your body...but that doesn't mean it isn't true.
Anyway, now that I've written out all of these thoughts, I think, like Cassie listening to stories, I can drive my brain back to what I need to do, which is finish up this final diss draft.
Thank you for reading. I know this stuff is hard to think about. It helps to know you're sharing the burden.
Also posted at http://kouredios.dreamwidth.org/269852.html ; feel free to comment there if you so choose: add comment/
comments.
We found out via Facebook, in that small town way that local media will post that a road has been closed because of an accident, and then update that a child was killed, and then update further with his name and address once that information has been released.
I was just browsing FB on my phone, and the whole headline didn't really sink in at first. I saw "East Road," and "8-year old boy," and assumed at first that it was an accident in the larger (still not very large) city to the south of us. But then the name of our town sunk in, and also the realization that that road is one of the ones where the speed limits are routinely ignored.
We live in a valley, and a state route runs through the middle. A little higher, on each side of the valley, there is East road and West road. We used to live on the east side of the state road and took East road frequently, to the doctor's office or to Jay's office. Now we live on the west side and take West road to Quentin's school or to the mall.
Both of these roads are the combination of direct and back-road enough to become dangerous.
The details aren't really out yet. We know it happened around 3 pm, and that he had a friend with him (who is fine), but they haven't said that he was crossing from the bus. If he were, they probably would have.
Cassie was at dance class when we saw the announcement. We didn't yet know if he was a student at her school (there's only one public elementary, but there's also a Catholic school in town), what grade he was in, or whether she knew him. One of the kindergarten teachers called the house to postpone kindergarten orientation today, because the school would be in mourning and they didn't want to introduce the kindergarteners in that environment. This was smart. It's also how I found out that he did indeed go to Cassie's school, and that he was in third grade.
Jay decided to tell her in the car when he picked her up from dance. I don't know why. The dance school is literally less than a minute from our house (normally she would walk, but it was raining yesterday.)
She came into the house with her eyes all red, and at first she didn't even want to talk. She's a sensitive kid, and I knew that no matter whether she knew him or not, the death of someone who went to her school would hit her hard. But it turns out that she did know him. He was a kid that she would chat with in the morning before the final bell rung, and that she hung out with sometimes at the youth center. He played Minecraft. Apparently he told her once that he wanted to be a vet.
That was one of the things she came to me and said later that night, with tears in her eyes. He wanted to be a vet, and now he never will be.
This is Cassie's first real experience with death. She was only 2 years old when my grandfather died. And even Quentin, at 5, isn't really fully grasping the situation. He repeats the facts, "A kid died. He was hit by a car. It's sad." But he doesn't fully understand what that really means. His Lego characters die regularly, and get up and start playing again.
Cassie took a long time to fall asleep last night. I let her stay up an extra half hour because I knew she didn't want to be alone. When she came down around 10pm to complain that she couldn't sleep, we decided to try listening to some Irish folktales on CD to distract her mind so her body could sleep. It took about three stories before that worked.
The school is prepared to deal with the day. They have brought extra counselors in, and I assume they'll be talking to the kids in smaller groups or letting them know that they can ask to talk to someone. They advised everyone not to keep their kids home from school, because routine + extra support is the best way forward.
Me, my first reaction was a kind of empathetic horror. I think that most parents who hear this kind of news imagine themselves in the situation of this boy's family. My first instinct is to reemphasize street safety for my kids, even though that's probably not particularly helpful.
I've always had this weird fear that Quentin's connection to this world wasn't strong. I'm generally not a very spiritual person, and I reject a lot of woo, but I felt myself conceive Cassie, and I had chosen her name before Jay and I had even married. She's always sort of been part of my view of the future. She's solidly connected to the world.
Quentin caught me completely by surprise. Even after a miscarriage, and when we weren't particularly trying, I had no idea I was pregnant with him until I had some weird gum bleeding and the dentist asked if I might be pregnant. And then I got in a car accident when I was 6 months pregnant with him. And then I fell down a flight of stairs and his carseat flew out of my hand. I started feeling like the universe had it out for him or something.
I guess another way to think of it is that he's had enough near misses that the universe is looking out for him. I just can't bear to think about this tender body that I love so dearly being brutalized by a fast moving car. It's obviously a cliché, what they say about having a child being like your heart walking around outside of your body...but that doesn't mean it isn't true.
Anyway, now that I've written out all of these thoughts, I think, like Cassie listening to stories, I can drive my brain back to what I need to do, which is finish up this final diss draft.
Thank you for reading. I know this stuff is hard to think about. It helps to know you're sharing the burden.
Also posted at http://kouredios.dreamwidth.org/269852.html ; feel free to comment there if you so choose: add comment/
comments.