Looking back over the last few blog entries I’ve made, I realize how preoccupied I have been with insignificant details … events in my life which, no matter how hard I may try, I can’t control the outcome. Sophia Lauren is happily, and for now, safely at home and the PdP is no longer in the picture. And although I still don’t know the outcome of my visa situation, whether I will be on the final “list” to be offered a work permit, or how long I will have to stay in the states before returning to Italy, something happened this week that changed my perspective on all of this.
As some of you may know, I have a very close family back in Texas. I have one sister, Charlee, who is a single mother to Cole, the most amazing 5-year-old in the world … (Now, I realize many people think this about their children, but I am actually justified in thinking so. He is wonderful, so you don’t have to doubt me on that, I promise.) Cole spent his last summer before beginning kindergarten playing T-Ball on the same team with his best buddy, Aaron, against their other best buddy, Coy. Coy played second baseman, and would jokingly push Cole off the base while he was there waiting to run to third.
This week, Coy was involved in a tragic accident that left him hospitalized and brain dead for three days. In the early morning hours of Saturday, July 1, God called his baby to be with him. It is difficult for me, as an adult, to understand what happened; to actually grasp the idea that this child has died. How do you explain this to a 5-year-old and how to you expect him to understand? How do you answer him when he asks, “Is Jesus sad this happened to Coy?”
I’ve lost friends too young, as I am sure many of you have, but we have our memories that promise to keep them with us always. What about Cole and Coy? Will a 5-year-old remember that Coy Richardson is the person who taught him how to snap his fingers? Or that Coy, along with Cole and Aaron, dressed up like the Power Rangers for pre-school one day. Will he remember that, during T-Ball, when he was asked who his favorite professional baseball player was, he said, “Coy Richardson?” Will he remember the little second baseman who pushed him off the base?
I have been stressed about the 90 day rule, and worried I would have to stay in Texas 90 days before I could return to Italy. Ninety days … if all our problems could be so simple.