August 2, 2009
suffer the children
8/2/09
Whatever your spiritual predilection, I'd like you to hold a thought, offer some light, say a prayer or take a little pause for my 4-year-old cousin Cooper, who passed away this weekend. He was the son of my cousin Jana, making him technically "once removed" - but in my extended family, there are no such delineations between kids. He and Lucy never stopped to ask anybody what "second cousin" meant when they were busy playing on the floor.
Cooper borrowed Lucy's Carolina hat, Aug 2007
I can only explain the particular heartbreak of this story by going back 40 years: when I was very small, I had a cousin named Matthew. He was Jana's little brother, born nine days before me. There are countless pictures of us in the tub together, riding proto-Big Wheels, smearing our faces with batter and peeing into flowerpots.
Just before his 2nd birthday, Matthew had a fatal accident in his family's driveway, becoming a subject my own grandmother - who survived the Depression and was not known to show emotion - couldn't discuss without bending over in her chair and bawling. Words beggar the sadness that befell my uncle and aunt. For me, there was always a missing piece in the family fabric, a person that was supposed to be there, but wasn't.
Matthew and me, Xmas 1968
Now little Cooper has suffered the identical fate, the unthinkable happening to the next generation in the same exact family. There's nothing poetic about this, no larger point to be made, just unspeakable sadness set against astronomical odds.
One of Tessa's compatriots, someone who had lost a 7-year-old, said that he had come to understand that "no matter how short, every life is complete." Perhaps there will be a day when my cousin Jana and her husband Quinn will have similar thoughts, but now, all they can do is survive the worst thing that could possibly happen to a parent.
And the family member who had been driving... my heart absolutely breaks. This person is one of my favorite people in the world, let alone the family; nobody sweeter, less judgmental, more genuine, more kind. What can any of us say? All Tessa and I can do is fly up to Utah and be present. Just let them know that we will bear witness to sweet Cooper's life and represent the other far-flung relatives that couldn't attend.
I have no religion, no structured faith - only the lovely mosaic of friends I've cobbled together and the family whose ranks I joined through endless joyous Christmases, fights over french fries in the backseat, and games of Rook that lasted well past bedtime. I live thousands of miles from my cousins, and I don't agree with them on politics, on theology, on pretty much anything - but I'm inextricably moored to them, and that brother/sisterhood has always been an unthinkable blessing. It doesn't have to make sense, loving your family. Some things remain unconditional.
Posted by Ian Williams at August 2, 2009 11:42 PMI am a parent of a beautiful 7yo boy that have overcome medical issues once thought insurmountable. I continue to regularly violently wake at night with nightmares of his death. It is my personal hell that I have come to accept. Today's post made me sick with heartbreak for your family. There is nothing comforting that can be said ... I am so sorry.
I am so, so sorry.
These have been the worst past few days. Over the course of this weekend, I learned that a former classmate of mine died in a car accident, a former classmate of my brother's died suddenly, and my cousin's house caught fire, destroying his home and killing his beloved pets who were trapped inside the burning house.
I am so sorry for your family's loss. It is unimaginable and heartbreaking. All of this news makes me want to crawl under the covers and weep.
Invariably, when you enter the Blogosphere, and you read blogs day in and day out, you become linked, if only in a superficial way, to the unexpected tragedies in every day life. Reading about them on a blog you follow is more than absorbing it as a passing news story.
Of course, your entire family has my prayers. I always wonder what good they do in times like this, but I'm willing to risk wasting my time.
Ian, I'm so very sorry. I strongly believe in the healing power of prayer and you guys are now at the top of my prayer list.
Is there any greater sadness? Nothing can make me feel more like a weak, insignificant being than being reminded that I can never undo the death of a precious, innocent child like Cooper. That is partly why nothing can stop my family from praying to the Lord our God for Cooper's beautiful soul and his loving family.
Ian - I am so sorry to hear about this tragic accident. There are no other words I can say, but my thoughts are with your cousin and her family.
I am so terribly sorry.
I am so sorry to hear of this tragic loss. What a horrible, horrible thing for Cooper's family and for you to endure. Time will heal, but only so much. I am devastated for you.
How sad! I am so sorry.
Oh Ian. I am truly heartbroken for you and your family. As you said, there is no greater tragedy for a parent. You are in my prayers...
All my reactions to this terrible news and its ghastly generational synchronicity begin with "un" -- Unthinkable. Unbearable. Unbelievable.
But you said it best here, Ian:
"...unspeakable sadness set against astronomical odds"I am so very, very sorry for everyone. My prayers go out to the family.
Gut shot. My heart sank when I read this.
Be there and be strong for your cousins. Encourage them to seek help at the appropriate time.
Words cannot describe how sorry I am for your loss.
I am so sorry for you and your whole family's loss. I often think about your first post about Matthew. It really stuck with me because it seemed like one of the saddest things that could possibly happen to a family. When I read this post I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.
I am a lifelong Lutheran, but one of my biggest tests of faith in an all-knowing God is wondering how He/She could ever allow something like this to happen to a family. But of course that is an unanswerable question and all I can do is pray for them.
Oh NO! Oh Ian, I'm so sorry that happened...love and hugs to everyone involved...Hang in there.
My husband just walked in on me crying. Ian, I am so sorry for your family's loss of Cooper. I can't even begin to imagine Jana's pain as a mother. I will keep them in my prayers.
I read this while my office was installing a new phone system. I had to wait a while to get the lump out of my throat before I could record my outgoing message without my voice cracking. So very sorry for your loss. Words fail me. That's my worst nightmare. I'll keep cousin Jana and her family (and yours) in my thoughts.
Ian. I am so sorry. I cannot imagine the grief. You are all in my prayers.
No no no--this is so terrible, so terrible. I cannot believe it. Particularly the macabre coincidence. Feel so awful for the relative who was driving, too--something else that would be seem impossible to live through.
Tragedy abounds this week somehow--a very dear old friend of Baxter's was murdered in California--29 years old--his mother is a close hooping friend of ours. Hearing the story another parent of an adult said "It doesn't matter how old your children get, you always feel that they are your babies. You can still feel them tiny in your arms."
I admire the strength, courage, and patience it took Tessa's friend come to that recognition. Our friend Anna has showed unimaginable resilience throughout the whole ordeal (her son was missing for several days before they found evidence of his murder). But I realize there is a long, long road ahead for her and for Jana and her husband. My love and feeble prayers go out to them all.
good lord, ian. there aren't really words to share, but in the same way you can be present, we are all here by extension sending you and your family our love, in testament to your loss...
Heartbreaking and horrifying. So sorry for everyone in the family.
I'm sorry, Ian. You've been through too much this summer.
All I can offer, and I hope it doesn't sound hollow or trite, is the suggestion that you take some real time now to count and give thanks for what you've GOT. Which is obviously a lot. That's is the only thing that's ever really helped me in grief and I hope it helps you some.
You and Cooper's family are in my thoughts.
Ian - I cried when I read this earlier today. Then I took my 5 year old son out for a milkshake because I don't do things like that often enough and I was reminded by your post that it can all change in a heartbeat. Thank you for that reminder. I am so sorry for your loss. My heart goes out to his parents and they will be in my prayers tonight, as will the whole family.
I'm so sorry, Ian. Sending prayers for your family.
Devastating. Definitely thinking of and praying for your family.
My thoughts and heart go out to you and your family. Phil
So sorry.
when i clicked on your site just now i saw the photo of lucy and a little boy and was sure there was going to be a sweet entry about lucy and some little pal of hers.....oh how wrong i was.
my thoughts are with your family. so very very sad.
I have been thinking about this so much since I read it yesterday and didn't write b/c I just don't have the words. I can't imagine anything worse.
I'm so sorry..
An unspeakably awful event. The Cooper blog is, however, an amazing testament to the power of faith.
Ian, I am sorry for you and your family. I hope that you can find comfort in the family and friends that you have and the prayers that they offer for you and Cooper's parents during this time.
Ditto Neva. Tragic. I was folding tiny pairs of my 4 year old son's shorts tonight and it brought me to tears thinking of what Jana must be going through, how can the poor woman who was the driver make it through the next minute, and the grief of everyone touched by this little guys life. I'm so sorry Ian.
Ian - I've been a friend of your mother's for over a decade. I am not going to offer platitudes, and really - no one who has answered this post has done that. This has happened twice in our neighborhood - but in neither case did the child lose its life - instead, there was a terrible fight for those lives. Families on a knife's edge.
My friend, a man of great faith, who was driving the car and ran over his own daughter, sat in stunned and devastated silence, rigid and heart-frozen, beside the hospital bed day and night until the question seemed to be answered for them.
The second time, I was the one who snuck back to clean up the driveway. It was a terrible, heart-rending job. The ward fasted and prayed over that little girl and held on to her. There was still life enough left to hold on to. This is a thing beyond enduring -
But I believe every life has meaning, no matter how short. And while I believe in life after life, I have witnessed the terrible pain left in a life's wake. You know how we believe that family connections can go beyond the grave - which is all well and good - but begs the question what about the time between the wresting away of love and that reunion.
All I am left with is hope. Hope, and a belief in meaning. I could not dare give much thought to this situation of yours when I heard about it on the news. It was too hard. But you have no such luxury. You and yours - I guess all I can pray for is that the edge on the pain be bearable, and that hope can keep you breathing.
Kristen
Ian, I am so sorry for your and your family.
Ian--my extended family suffered this same fate about ten years ago. As the father of a four and two year old, I can't fathom this...
My prayers are with you an your family...
Hi Ian -- so sorry about Cooper and hope you, Lucy, Tessa and especially his immediate family are holding up ok. Read the obituary and am finding it hard to breathe at the moment.
so sad
sadness. wishing you peace.
Ian, I don't come to your blog daily, so I am just reading of your dear cousin's passing today. You and your family love fiercely from what I can see in your wonderful blog sharings. I know you will miss Cooper and continue to love him.
You have my thoughts, my prayers and my tears.