Life came around full circle over a weekend when Alice's calligraphy teacher, Bonnie, called her to ask for help and sympathy. Her 35 year old son was discovered 2 days after he'd died of an apparent overdose. Alice had been taking a course from Bonnie just the year before when Greg died, so there were some instant bonds renewed over this latest tragedy. Coincidentally, I was browsing the Sunday paper and came across the obituary of one of my son Joe's classmates, and was reading with great sadness over that news, on top of Bonnie's, only to find Bonnie's name listed there as surviving parent. I went numb, remembering the quiet, handsome, sensitive boy who was dating another classmate those years ago, the daughter of a friend of mine at the same little school. I called Alice to tell her, and called Keith so he can break the news to Joe as best he could. Joe remembers people and always asks about them like he'd seen them only yesterday.
We had never made the connection that Bonnie and I had that in common, our boys having been acquainted at that special school. Joe had been 2 years past his accident back then and was really trying hard to get a life back. Pacific Oaks Mini School was a terrific venture on the part of its founder, to provide a haven for kids who didn't fit into the traditional academic/social zoo of the public schools. They welcomed Joe just as enthusiastically as all the other kids. There were some really great young folks there, and we still hear things of them.
We handled the services amazingly well. We took Joe with us, since he'd known Brent and had recently asked about him. I don't know if I conveyed the situation accurately, especially since it's this strange connection that I find so unsettling. Bonnie's son and Joe's classmate are one and the same, though we had never suspected till this happened. We can intellectually make the connection but never having actually known and lived it, my not realizing that Alice's Bonnie was Brent's mom those 20 years ago. Alice not knowing that Bonnie's son was a kid that we'd known back then, it's like the circle is just a horseshoe with the gap between me and Alice--a piece is missing somewhere.
Going to the funeral helped because it made it more real, everybody together, holding up (and holding each other up) well. It was a beautiful event and though we couldn't go afterwards, the rest all convened informally at a small, casual restaurant to share and celebrate, the way Brent would have liked. He was a very funny, fun loving guy under his troubles, and that joyful, carefree spirit will survive. He'd have poked fun at all the seriousness and would have had everybody in stitches laughing at his antics at a time like that.
We had never made the connection that Bonnie and I had that in common, our boys having been acquainted at that special school. Joe had been 2 years past his accident back then and was really trying hard to get a life back. Pacific Oaks Mini School was a terrific venture on the part of its founder, to provide a haven for kids who didn't fit into the traditional academic/social zoo of the public schools. They welcomed Joe just as enthusiastically as all the other kids. There were some really great young folks there, and we still hear things of them.
We handled the services amazingly well. We took Joe with us, since he'd known Brent and had recently asked about him. I don't know if I conveyed the situation accurately, especially since it's this strange connection that I find so unsettling. Bonnie's son and Joe's classmate are one and the same, though we had never suspected till this happened. We can intellectually make the connection but never having actually known and lived it, my not realizing that Alice's Bonnie was Brent's mom those 20 years ago. Alice not knowing that Bonnie's son was a kid that we'd known back then, it's like the circle is just a horseshoe with the gap between me and Alice--a piece is missing somewhere.
Going to the funeral helped because it made it more real, everybody together, holding up (and holding each other up) well. It was a beautiful event and though we couldn't go afterwards, the rest all convened informally at a small, casual restaurant to share and celebrate, the way Brent would have liked. He was a very funny, fun loving guy under his troubles, and that joyful, carefree spirit will survive. He'd have poked fun at all the seriousness and would have had everybody in stitches laughing at his antics at a time like that.
posted by Mary Smith at 9:33 AM
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