Tragic Event in New Brunswick

An email by that title went around my office yesterday. I was expecting that a law had been overturned, or a non-profit had lost their funding. When I opened it up and read past the first sentence, I made a huffing moan, a sound like someone had hit me low in the belly. My closest co-worker, without turning her head, said "I know. It's. Just. Awful."

The daughter of someone we know died in a car accident. It really was just an accident. As far as they can tell, the wheels slipped off the road, and when she corrected the slip, the car rolled. She wasn't wearing a seat belt and was thrown from the car.

Not the last time I saw the woman I know - I'll call her L - but maybe the time before that, or the time before that, she was talking about her daughters. Before Sunday she had four, and she'd been away from them for a few days. The youngest had just gotten old enough to start asserting her independence.

L turned to one of my pregnant co-workers - "You just treasure those first ten or so years. They get so big. They need you so much, and then they don't anymore, and that's okay. But it hurts." She started welling up. We all made sympathetic clucking noises.

"It's okay," she continued. "My oldest did this too. It was rough. But it's better now, she's through it. Doing really well." L beamed then, so proud, reeling off the once-again-sweet eldest daughter's accomplishments. Towards the end of the list, she welled up again.

"Sorry," she said. "I miss them. Those girls are my life."