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I've been a member of the MURC forum for eight years, at least, since I got my original Marvel G200. I realize that in the past I've been somewhat reticent about posting any personal information beyond the basics. It's a family trait. My family just isn't very open about most things, probably because we figure most folks just aren't that interested. That, and we're generally quite shy by nature.
However, over the years I've grown comfortable among you all, relishing the broad spectrum of humanity you all represent and enjoying the many discussions that go on here, even If I participate only sporadically. We are a community and in many ways I'm closer to you all than I am to most of the people who live on my street (and that in itself, perhaps, is a sad commentary on our times). Even so, it's with more than a little reluctance and a heavy heart that I must report that I buried my elder son today.
Tony was just a few months shy of his 25th birthday when I found him in his bedroom on Saturday evening. I'd grown concerned because he hadn't yet emerged to get ready for his job on the night shift at the local newspaper. I had to force my way into his bedroom and I'll spare you all the sordid details. Suffice it to say it was an appallingly sad, stupid accident. The police were on the scene within minutes and the first thing they did was get on the radio to cancel the ambulance. They and I didn't need a doctor to tell that he'd already been dead for hours. All the time we thought he was sleeping normally, he was just waiting for us to find him.
The funeral was today and it was small but heartfelt, and as heart-wrenching as you can imagine. No parent should ever have to bury a child. Those who have (like a close friend of mine did 11 years ago) know the pain and those who haven't, I pray, never will.
I'm not tossing this out there for sympathy, as I've received more sympathy from friends and loved ones in the past few days than a person can handle. I'm saying this to remind you all to never take your life, or the lives of those you love, for granted. It's too short and too precious. You never know when it will be ripped away. And you never recover from the loss. I know Christine, younger son Lucas, and I never will.
Happy Easter, all.
Kevin
However, over the years I've grown comfortable among you all, relishing the broad spectrum of humanity you all represent and enjoying the many discussions that go on here, even If I participate only sporadically. We are a community and in many ways I'm closer to you all than I am to most of the people who live on my street (and that in itself, perhaps, is a sad commentary on our times). Even so, it's with more than a little reluctance and a heavy heart that I must report that I buried my elder son today.
Tony was just a few months shy of his 25th birthday when I found him in his bedroom on Saturday evening. I'd grown concerned because he hadn't yet emerged to get ready for his job on the night shift at the local newspaper. I had to force my way into his bedroom and I'll spare you all the sordid details. Suffice it to say it was an appallingly sad, stupid accident. The police were on the scene within minutes and the first thing they did was get on the radio to cancel the ambulance. They and I didn't need a doctor to tell that he'd already been dead for hours. All the time we thought he was sleeping normally, he was just waiting for us to find him.
The funeral was today and it was small but heartfelt, and as heart-wrenching as you can imagine. No parent should ever have to bury a child. Those who have (like a close friend of mine did 11 years ago) know the pain and those who haven't, I pray, never will.
I'm not tossing this out there for sympathy, as I've received more sympathy from friends and loved ones in the past few days than a person can handle. I'm saying this to remind you all to never take your life, or the lives of those you love, for granted. It's too short and too precious. You never know when it will be ripped away. And you never recover from the loss. I know Christine, younger son Lucas, and I never will.
Happy Easter, all.
Kevin
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