A Life Unlived

My wife has a habit of checking the obituaries. This is a routine I have always attributed to "older" folks, however, unfortunately, all too often she comes across an entry for someone we know. This was the case yesterday morning. The obituary was for the infant son of a couple I had lost touch with over the past several years. We attended the viewing last night and paid our respects and talked to our friends briefly. Their son was four weeks away from being delivered and they had discovered there were two knots in the umbilical cord. The poor kid didn't have a chance. Up to that point, the pregnancy had been normal and healthy so there had been nothing to warn them of any potential issues.

I've been to a lot of viewings and funerals over the years for folks of all ages, and they always have a way of reminding me how short our time on Earth is with each other. I have no doubt that my regrets about not staying in as touch as I would have liked to are fairly common when it comes to the passing on of an older friend or relative. What I wasn't ready for was the overwhelming feeling of shock and loss over the "life unlived" that I experienced as I saw their baby in the casket. All I could think of were the things this child and his parents would never get to share - midnight feedings and diaper changes, holding and being held, first words, first steps, birthdays and Christmases, first days of school, playing catch... and how lucky and blessed I've been I've had those opportunities as both a child and parent.

These are the times it's especially comforting to know that we are immortal and will know these people forever, though we may lose touch with them for the interim. Unfortunately, it's not always easy to remember that, and even harder to find the words to convey it sensitively to someone suffering from such a loss.