One of life's greatest rewards is becoming a parent, but before that stork flies out the window, it wraps you in an invisible Cloak of Irrational Fears.
One of them is that your baby will die of crib death (SIDS). Never mind that the odds of this happening to your child is extremely rare. The fact that it can happen terrorizes any parent into checking a sleeping infant every thirty minutes or so.
The very idea of something happening to harm your child never leaves. The invisible Cloak of Irrational Fears isn't something you ever get used to. In fact, it seems to get heavier and heavier as the years go by.
On Monday, members of my family got the call that every parent fears most. My nephew, J.K., was struck by a car and killed. Though we have not lived in the same city for many years. J.K. was very much a part of my children's, my wife's and my lives.
I would like to go into this some more, but I just can't. I can't write about the adorable wife and three little boys he left, nor the grieving father and cousins and aunts and uncles and friends since kindergarten, not to mention the entire community of Reno, Nevada, where he was a television sportscaster.
If I were a stronger and better man, I would write about the injustice of it all. Why it couldn't have been me instead of J.K. Why drunk drivers need to be impaled. And this is not to mention another furious diatribe against the possibility of the existence of God I should get into.
In fact, I'm only writing this because my daughter wrote a couple of lines on her blog, which shamed me into doing something.
And quite honestly, I've already written more than I thought I could. I'm still too far into my reality distortion zone to do much of anything, really.
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