I was an Honorary Captain last night. The JV Football team invited me to participate in their game. It was an opportunity to see, in action, the new scoreboard erected in memory of Harrison. I had seen it once before but it wasn’t lit. So, yes, I was kind of excited in a geeky kind of way.
The heaviness came when I realize that the beautiful scoreboard is at the high school. The high school I spent three years making multiple trips to; stressing out, figuring out transportation to and from practices and events. All of that stress seems so silly now. As I passed a lone kid, sitting, waiting for his ride, I felt sad over the number of times Harrison had to wait because I couldn’t get out of work early. Did this effect his life in a detrimental way? No, but these are the ways a grieving mom tortures herself. Why didn’t I figure out a way to get out of work early? Why did the poor kid have to be the only one waiting? Why couldn’t I have juggled my life better? Why? Why? Why?
I break out of my reverie as I park the car and begin the walk to the JV field. I’m excited but feel so alone. As I walk, I hope that someone calls out my name just so I don’t feel so alone. This is the JV team though and as time passes I realize, all the families I knew have moved on. Their children are in college now. For me, I am frozen in time. My son will always be a high school student.
I get to the field, set up my chair, and then it comes. The excited wave from the coach who invited me. HE has not forgotten. Harrison was one of his too. We are indelibly bonded. He is my savior in this moment and I gleefully wave back. I head down to the sidelines and feel enveloped by the mass of football players distracted by their pre-game excitement. Do they know notice I’m there? Not really, but it’s ok. I am happy to see them living their life. I am happy to just be a part of their world. For just a moment, I am happy.