Nineteen

This was supposed to be a Happy Birthday Dylan! post. As usual, it's late. Dylan turned nineteen while we were on vacation. I was going to post about how, in the last year, he had aquired a great girlfriend and a good job. I love his girlfriend and I am thrilled that he is working. But two days ago, one of Dylan's graduating class was killed in a car accident while on a mission trip. Suddenly, all those things that seemed like big milestones in Dylan's life weren't quite so important.

I watched as he cried in his father's arms and I wanted so much to touch him and pray...loudly. I did not do this because the kid was already suffering and didn't need my nonsense. So I locked myself in the bathroom and I prayed. And I wept. I prayed for Palmer's family...that somehow they would survive this mountain of grief and sorrow. I wept for the life that that child would never experience. I prayed that somehow this would draw Dylan closer to God and not farther away.

Losing a classmate forces you to face your own mortality. When you are young, your grandparents die...old politicians and movie stars die...but your frinds don't die. Until, one day, they do. Before this happened, I felt that nineteen was old enough to be treated as an adult, take responsibility, get your own place, blah, blah, blah. Now I know that nineteen is too damn young.