I was gearing up to write a blog about how my 14 year old daughter was stranded alone at the airport in New York for several hours on Wednesday (seven of those in a grounded plane with a faulty AC system before the flight was canceled), how scary and frustrating it was to be so far away from her and not be able to do anything, how vulnerable and helpless I felt. But then I received an email this morning that put everything in perspective.
Vicki Forman, who writes the beautiful Special Needs Mama column at Literary Mama, lost her son Evan to a sudden unexpected illness yesterday. I just had dinner with Vicki and a bunch of other writer mamas last month after the Maternal is Political reading in Pasadena, and she spoke of Evan, who would have turned 8 on the 30th, with such tenderness and humor and love. My heart aches for her and her family as they process this incomprehensible loss.
I find I can no longer complain about Hannah's airport ordeal. Sure, it was a long confusing day, and Hannah didn't get home until 4am, but she is home, and she is safe and I can wrap my arms around her. As I waited for her at the gate at LAX, there was a large crowd waiting to board a plane to Guadalajara, and they had turned the terminal into a party--little kids running around, people playing guitar and drums and doing raucous versions of the Macarena at 2am. The rest of the airport was totally quiet except for the floor cleaning machines, but this little corner had become a festival. It was a lovely way to welcome Hannah back.
I can only begin to imagine the silence that Vicki and her family are facing today, even with all the support the community is sending their way. Marjorie Osterhout has set up a memorial fund in Evan's name; if you wish to make a donation, please click here