For Gracie
My son and his friends experienced the unthinkable
This morning, I was walking my dogs, and I saw a female neighbor approaching a male neighbor. I just moved in a couple of weeks ago, and I hadn’t met these people yet. They appeared to have no idea that I was even there, and considering the conversation I overheard, I immediately understood why they were in their own little world. The man was carrying an elderly looking poodle, and he shook his head at her.
“He can’t even pee. It’s time,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, hugging him.
It hit me that I witnessed his decision to put his clearly beloved dog down, and I felt sick. Sick for them, and sorry that I had been an interloper on this private moment.
It also hit particularly hard, as I got the worst phone call of my life last week. One of my favorite artists, Mat Kearney, once sang, “I guess we’re all one phone call from our knees,” and truer words had never been spoken (well, sung).
My 18-year-old son called while on his senior trip to Utah, a once-in-a-lifetime gathering of his best friends to celebrate graduating and the eventual separation from one another as they headed to college.
At first, I thought he was laughing. But I soon realized he was crying, or really, screaming. It took me a full minute to finally understand him, and he said, and I’ll never forget these words:
“Mom, I just saw my friend die.”
He didn’t even say “I think.” His friends had decided on a last-minute ATV ride before heading back to the house where they were staying. It was only two hours before they were headed to the airport to drop their friend, Gracie, off, as she was to be the first to leave for her cousin’s wedding.
In a series of decisions that would lead to so many later “what if” feelings of agony, the kids decided to take Gracie on one last ATV ride. My son was in a van, following the ATV. What’s come to light since this day is that a couple of the kids decided to change seats at the last second, and this decision is likely what led to her death. When the ATV tipped, she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt (probably due to the seat change). I won’t go into the details, but what these kids witnessed while they tried to save her life is something that no one should ever have to see.
As with all things dealing with fate and life and what God (if you believe in Him or Her) has in store for you, it’s easy to go down the rabbit hole of, “Why her?” Or, “Why not me?”
I ask that because, on the night before my high school graduation, my best friend and I did a thing. And much like what happened with Gracie, it was a very last-minute decision that nearly cost me my life. We had initially said “no” to going to the Blues Festival in downtown Chicago, but FOMO took hold of us, and we begged my brother to drive us at warp speed to the train station in my town. We saw the train beat us, and we then begged him once again to beat the train to the next station at College Street. He managed to do so, and I seemingly recall him not being happy about any of this, but as we pulled into the parking lot, the train approached.
“Let’s go!” Amy yelled.
I followed her out of the car and across the tracks, but because she is a person with a more responsible eye (read: not a derp), she made it across with no issues. I, on the other hand, caught my shoe on one side of the track and my head hit the other side, and the train was dramatically beeping at me. When I grabbed my shoe that had come off in the chaos, stood up, and limped to the platform, all of my friends stood there, mouths agape. My head was pouring blood, and for some reason that is still unbeknownst to me, I still got on that train. An elderly woman sitting across from me handed me a crumpled-up tissue for my head, and all of my graduation photos feature me smiling and grateful, but also missing a large chunk of my forehead.
The truth is, no one knows why one person is spared, and another is not, and if you let it, thinking about it can drive you to near insanity.
This story isn’t just about tragedy, however. It’s about a group of kids who had the innocence of youth violently taken away from them in an instant, but who have since banded together in a way that is nothing short of awe-inspiring. As a group, they’ve gone to visit Gracie’s mom ( (and her family), Gracie’s dad (and his family), and Gracie’s inconsolable boyfriend, holding space for all of them to grieve a person who meant the world to them, all while battling feelings of survivor’s guilt.
As a parent, I can’t imagine sending nine friends off to celebrate this milestone—kids on the precipice of so many things—only to have the group return home without my precious person. Yet these parents have been strong enough to console these friends and ensure that they know that this is a blameless tragedy.
Today is Gracie’s Celebration of Life, and I have to be honest. I want to stay in bed. I don’t want to face reality, but I know Gracie’s family needs this as a testament to the girl whose colds they’ve nursed, boo boos they’ve bandaged, broken hearts they’ve healed, and softball games in which they’ve cheered her sheer star power on. She not only existed, but she and her megawatt smile made their marks on so many people. And that’s why I am going to pull on my big girl pants and honor a life cut far too short. For Gracie.
