Webcurrents ... Today's Column ... Archive Index Childhood's End July 1997 Two sweet girls, both in the same room at school. One dies. The other meets with tragedy too horrible to imagine. Both in a small town. Both classmates of my 10-year-old son. The first was a happy girl named Shirley, who dropped dead one day in gym class last fall. My children are still feeling the effects of her death, apparently the result of a heart defect, and they often talk about her as an angel. She had been to our home for our son's birthday party. My younger daughter still talks about how they played outside together on the swings. She still draws pictures of Shirley as an angel. They weren't close, but my children have been blessed with knowing very few people who have died, so in a way I suppose it's comforting for them to envision someone they know as being on the other side. Last weekend another, altogether different, tragedy once again broke through the protective veil of their childhood when the parents of another classmate, Whitney, were shot dead at their home by their teenage daughter's ex-boyfriend. The thought of young Whitney running out of the house, past the bodies of her mother and father, after the killer surrendered to police ... well, it doesn't get much sadder than that. For now, my son insists on sleeping in our room, his young mind fearing someone will enter our home and do the same. Raising your children in a small town has many advantages. But when tragedies occur, it's almost always someone you know. Statistics and headlines are never just another story. It's a neighbor's daughter. A classmate's parents. A friend's son. Tragedies are magnified. A small town is like a family. We grieve together. For Shirley. For Whitney and her family. And for a childhood that can never be the same. www.webcurrent.com |