Mach3Multisport.com

The call came in at 9:16 pm tonight. As soon as I saw the number, I knew it wasn't good. It was my aunt and she never calls after 8 pm, so I held my breath a little as I said hello. She started to speak and I had a hard time hearing her through the loud beating of my heart. I faintly heard her tell me one of my son's best friends had been killed in a motorcycle accident. I asked all the regular questions, "Are you sure?" "Are you sure you mean Michael's friend Aaron?" "But Michael just saw him..." I hung up the phone and realized I would have to tell my son this horrible, horrible news. I called to him and he answered in the familiar irritated voice. When he approached me he looked annoyed. And then the words were spoken and he asked me the same questions I had asked my aunt..."Are you sure?" "My friend Aaron?" "But I just saw him..." He and his friends are now huddled outside, calling people, crying, staring blankly at nothing.

I don't know what to do...about the race, I mean. How can I go? How can I leave when I need to be here for my son...to help him through this horrible ordeal? He doesn't want my help...he announced that clearly. But to not be here...I don't think I could live with myself if I left. I would be thinking about him and the situation the entire time. Really, why would I still go? I suddenly don't care at all about the race...and yes it is still fresh...it's only 10:30...geez, this has been one of the most agonizing hours I've ever lived. I see my gear stacked ready to be packed and my first inclination is to put it all away. There'll be another 70.3 somewhere down the line my mind keeps repeating. It seems so small and insignificant now. The joy and excitement are gone and all that is left is the grief I am feeling for my son, his friend, and the whole situation.

And just like that...everything changes...

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