Upon unfathomable tragedy

Tomorrow I will take my children to a memorial service for a little girl who was killed in a terrible accident on Monday. Charlotte's life was cut short so quickly, but a community has come together to provide comfort, solace, and love to her sister, mother and father. 

And I will go tomorrow and sit next to my children and their mother, and their mother's partner, and we will all mourn something so terrible - the death of a young child. 

I personally did not know Charlotte that well, but knew of her importance to my son. He called her his "future wife" after her got over his sister teasing him about his being his girlfriend. I remember being that age and having crushes on girls, but I can't fathom being told that he'll no longer be able to play with her because she's gone. 

He's in denial, and is somewhat angry about what's happened. 

"I don't care that she's dead," he said to me shortly before bed. I told him I didn't believe him, but I understood how he felt. One way to stop the pain from getting to you is to pretend you are apathetic to it. 

"She liked red, so I'll wear the shirt I wore tonight," he said to me soon after. He knows that this is an important day in his life, a day he will say goodbye to a friend. 

I don't have much experience with death. My grandparents lived in another country and when they died, I did not attend their funerals. When my uncle died in 2000, I also did not go to say goodbye. 

I have only attended two funerals in my life. One was for my friend Brian Mercado, who died in a motorcycle accident back in 1997. I had been estranged from him for years, but he had been so important in my life that I had to say goodbye. I also went to the funeral for Joe Cudlin, the father of my best friend growing up. I think that was in 2006, when Josephine was only a few months old.

Tomorrow I shall write more.