Last Sunday afternoon, as I was packing up the puppies to go back, the phone rang. It was my friend E's mom, telling me that E's teenage daughter had killed herself that morning. Her 12-year-old son found his sister hanging in the garage.
That kicked off a whirlwind four days of shock and sorrow and sympathy and trying to figure out how to explain it to my oldest (who is good buds and classmates with E's youngest).
On Monday, I went to E's house to hug her and cry with her, and took her two youngest to my house for dinner and a playdate. My two boys and her two and another friend made pizzas and ran around with lightsabers, a little slice of normalcy in a horrible situation.
Wednesday evening, I waited in the aisle of a tiny New England church as red-eyed high schoolers and their parents walked past the girl's open casket and fell into her parents' arms, sobbing. E and her husband stood next to their child's body for four hours, comforting an unending stream of her friends, family members and classmates.
Thursday was the funeral, and it was emotionally draining, after an already emotionally demanding few days.
Friday morning I frantically packed for our long-awaited trip to Sonoma for the Hubs' cousin's wedding.
My sister called at 7 am to let me know she was in labor, and I told her she had seven hours to push that baby out before my flight took off at 3.55 pm. We didn't know whether she was having a boy or a girl, and I was dying to know.
My sister never misses a deadline. God bless her, she birthed that child - a boy! with adorably huge cheeks! - with half an hour to spare.
We had a whirlwind trip, drove through wine country, visited a winery, had a couple good meals, saw lots of Hubs' family members, went to the wedding (a whole 'nother story, but the bride and groom were glowing with happiness so that's all that matters) and then drove from the wedding Sunday night to San Francisco airport, where Hubs boarded a redeye to New York and I boarded a separate redeye to Philadelphia.
This morning, my mom picked me up at the airport, I took a nap at her house and then *finally* got to see my new, adorable nephew. I'm so proud of my sister! She had a tough labor, and aside from the hemorrhoids from hell she is rocking the postpartum gig. I spent a few hours with her, then got on a northbound train and took a taxi home from the station.
In one week, we've experienced a totally unnecessary, horrifying, tragic death, the happiness of a couple starting their life together as husband and wife, and the sheer joy of the arrival of a healthy newborn addition to our family.
I am exhausted, and emotionally drained, and so grateful that my children are upstairs asleep in their beds. And heartbroken that my friend's family will never be whole again.
