Life Is Short

And for some, life is even shorter.

I signed on to be a sorority advisor at CSUN last August. It's the same sorority I became involved with during my college years. As an active member many years ago, the sorority served it's purpose. I made some friends, I learned how to make small-talk at parties. I learned how to organize and conduct meetings. I wasn't the most enthusiastic member, but I wasn't entirely apathetic either. Eventually, I outgrew the group and closed that chapter of my life. But, I have loosely maintained a connection to the women's fraternity to find acquaintances when I move to a new locale.

Since the beginning of the current school year, I have advised these young women on matters of Academic Excellence, whether or not I'm qualified. More than anything, it's interesting to see how far I've come in the last thirteen years of my own life since leaving the college scene.

Early this morning, I received a telephone call from a fellow advisor. Surprised to hear a voice instead of reading an email, she informed me that the outgoing chapter president celebrated St. Patrick's Day in Hollywood last night. Apparently, a drunk driver hit her. She passed away early this morning.

The shock of the news is mind-numbing. While I had only met this young, twenty-one year old woman a handful of times, I am keenly aware of her charisma and presence. Overall, I'm paralyzed. I don't know what to say or do. I can only think about this tragedy from the viewpoint of her parents, whom I have never met. I empathize with them despite having never lost a child of my own. It's not supposed to happen this way....

We know that we raise our children to be independent, to make their own decisions. As parents, we teach, we guide, we support. Subconsciously we know that our protective shield is finite, but it's hard to accept this fact. We tell ourselves to trust that our children will be safe in the world without us. We tell ourselves this, but deep down, we know this is a self-comforting fabrication which allows us to go on with our own lives. When tragedy strikes, the truth comes crashing down around us.

Life is fragile.

So, in my fog, I bend down to hug my kids throughout the day, for no apparent reason, other than that I love them.

Life is short.

As Abraham Lincoln once wrote, "In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years."