trying to be strong...

There something unspoken between the Milton Triathlon and I. Last year I registered for the duathlon, and I got injured before race day. I registered for this year's, and up until last night, thought I would be participating today. Instead of picking up my race packet and getting body marked, I'm sitting on my couch, eyes puffy and red from crying and being awake all night... trying to summon any ounce of strength I can muster. I will need it, and a lot of it... not sure the strength from triathlon training or anything else I've gone through in my life so far will help me in the coming weeks and years.

Last night I got a phone call from D -- Terron's dad's girlfriend. With me so far?

She was at the hospital, trying to reach family members, hoping I could help provide her with phone numbers -- Terron's dad was having a heart attack. 34 years old. She said she would keep me posted, and that Terron, who was there when he collapsed the first time, was at her house. I managed to get his brother's phone number, waking him up with my phone call, letting him know I was headed to the hospital.

I arrived to the Cardiac Care Unit to an empty waiting room, a closed door to the Quiet Room with the red 'In Use' sign showing. In the unit itself, all the nurses behind a curtain moving a patient from one bed to another; all was quiet. When they emerged from the curtain, I asked for him by name... I was told to go sit in the waiting room; they'd come get me. Walking down the hallway, I saw the brother, same stunned expression, except he had already gotten a message that he had died; the body being moved behind the curtain by the nurses... him.

Of all the thoughts swirling in my head, my only focus is Terron. I'm an emotional person; the apple didn't fall far from the tree, Terron is like me that way. He's extremely empathetic, sensitive, caring and loving. When I tell you that he viewed his dad as a hero, it's an understatement. From the time he was a baby, they've had an incredible bond. I could be found walking with him in my arms for hours, crying from colic, nothing I did soothed him. His dad would come home from work, we traded briefcase for child...and his crying would stop. To Terron, his dad could do no wrong.

He had no idea what was coming... and I struggled with doing the right thing, what would be best for Terron, for today and forever. He's 10, will be 11 this month, had seen what happened to his dad earlier in the day, and was told by paramedics he'd be ok. The brother and I left the hospital to get Terron, neither of us knowing quite what to say. All I could do was hug him when we got to the house, it was easier than speaking. He gathered the things he needed, and we walked out to the car, and told him we were going to the hospital. Time seemed to stop at that moment. No words came out. The questioning look in his eyes hopeful, but knowing. He asked if everything was ok. I inhaled, opened my mouth to try to speak, but when the pause lasted a little too long, he asked if his dad passed away, I nodded. Time still wasn't moving. The pain of watching my son lose his hero is something I'll never forget.

We arrived at the hospital where many other family members had gathered, Terron asked to go see him, to say goodbye. He lasted less than a minute, grabbed my hand and led me out of the room, telling me he couldn't see him like that. We went to the waiting room, where he was recounted his memory of the day. About an hour passed, more family members arriving, and Terron was ready to leave, but wanted one last opportunity to see him. He walked in, patted his head, then shook him gently with his hands on his chest, trying to wake him up. I think I know what it feels like to have a broken heart.

It was a long ride home, trying to find the right things to say to his many questions. He finally settled into a fitful sleep in bed with me at about 2am. He's still sleeping now, but I have yet to let my mind rest. I know I need to be strong for Terron... I hope I can.

Ironic that this happened a few hours before my 4th anniversary of quitting smoking. Unfortunate that he didn't have the will-power to quit on his many attempts.

Instead of reading and catching up on your blogs, I'm researching grief counselling for children. wow.

Please go hug and tell those around you that you love them, today. Don't wait. You never know when it might be too late.