On the Death of the Young: For Brooke Giroux and Jessica Worster

Four days ago, two girls I knew mainly through their friendships with my sons, died
in a tragic car accident. If they had worn their seatbelts, they wouldn’t have
been ejected from the car and that might have made all the difference. 
 
I knew Brooke only for a short time when she dated my youngest son, Finn. She made
him happy and that made me happy. The puppy love of sixteen and seventeen year
olds always brings a smile to my face. That smile has turned to tears as I think
of how young Brooke was when she died, seventeen, headed towards her senior year
of high school. According to Finn, all she wanted to do was to graduate and head
out of her hometown of Jackman to see the world and experience all the good
things in life. 

As Lady Gaga plays softly in the background, I cry, knowing Brooke will never hear
these songs again, will never dance at her prom or wedding…so many things left
undone. I try to imagine what Brooke's last thoughts might have been; in my
mind, I hear her say, 'I love you, mummy.' I hope I'm right. 
 
I didn't really know Jessica, but she was friends with my oldest son, Yule, and he
always had fun tales to tell me of his times spent with the Worster twins,
Jessica and Jasmine. My heart goes out to Jasmine who has lost her other half.
Recently I read a book by Christa Parravani titled Her,
about her life as an identical twin and the horrible experience of losing her
sister, Cara. I hope someday Jasmine can read this book and experience what
Christa does after four years of extreme suffering, that "Cara had crossed into
the afterlife alone; this was her fate. There are places even a twin can't
follow. [Christa] stood transformed on a cold night in September, four years
after she had died [her] heart pumped warm blood, face flush with something
unexpected: hope . . .I was thrilled and terrified. I was alive."  

I barely knew these girls and yet waves of sadness wash over me. They were both so
young; their lives didn't have to end this way. But they did, and we, the
living, whether we knew them or not, must move forward with our lives. The
answer I've found to help me with the surprisingly strong amount of grief I have
is to remember to love, love myself, love my husband, love my sons, parents,
friends, neighbors. When I let love wash over me like a soft white wave of
healing, instead of the deep blue, swirling waves of tears, I feel at peace. I
hope that all of those who are grieving right now, for these girls, and other
loved ones who have died, can find that soft white wave of love and have it curl
around them and hold them tight. Love and peace.