Guardian Angels

There's been much media coverage this week about an unfortunate situation that occurred at Marinette High School. I know my family reading this normally gets Minnesota news, but they may have seen snippets of the coverage on CNN and, well, just about everywhere.

I followed the story especially close because I lived in Marinette for 4 years and still have friends there, including law enforcement personnel involved in the incident.

A teenage boy named Sam used a gun to detain a classroom and teacher for several hours before he killed himself when police stormed the room after failed negotiations. Prior to taking his own life, he shot the gun several times -- not at people -- but at items in the classroom. Of course, everyone is saying we are lucky no one else was hurt. But that's not entirely true.

Putting the hurt feelings of the classmates and teachers aside, can you possibly imagine the pain that Sam's grieving parents, siblings and every family member are going through? I can't even think about it without getting a lump in my throat. Then today, a friend of mine in Marinette shared the following blog post written by a woman named Sarah Kopf, a mom who had a chance encounter at the hospital with Sam's mother.

The Stranger and the Agony in Goodbye

Tuesday, November 30, 2010:

This morning, I walked down to the parent lounge, just like I do every other day, to get my daily coffee. I met eyes with a dark haired woman as I walked in. Her gaze hit me like a thousand pound weight. The pain in her eyes just washed over me. I accidentally overheard the conversation between this woman and another (the parent room is tiny) -- obviously distraught. New admits. (Three years into this, Nathan and I can read new parents and experienced parents from a mile away.) I heard the words “organ donor” and “brain injury” and “I just don’t understand why he did this to myself.” I was walking back to our room and it hit me: That is the mother of the boy who had held up the school and shot himself. My God… (I knew, based on the news reports, that he was down the hall in the PICU.) I tried to sit still in this room, but everything in me told me to walk back down to that room. Twenty minutes later when my coffee was finished and my heart was still aching, I did just that.

The woman was still sitting on the couch in tears. I apologized for walking in on them again and went to the coffee station. She said it was no trouble and said she appreciated a friendly face anyway. I turned to her, looked her in the eyes again, and said, “You don’t know me, but you look like you need a big hug. Can I give you a hug?” Another tear or two ran down in cheek. “Yes, definitely.” And so I gave her the biggest, longest hug I’ve probably given--- even to family. Her tears dripped on my neck, but I didn’t care. She said “My son is Sam, the boy…” And I stopped her and told her I knew that; I had figured that out based on what I overheard. We got talking. She expressed her pain and fear about going home to face her community and talked about how her two younger children, aged 11 & 13, were being affected by this tragedy. My heart absolutely melted for her, but I worked hard not to cry. I just let her talk. She struck me as a very warm hearted, sweet woman. It was obvious that she deeply loved her family. She told me she didn’t know how she didn’t “see it” and that she felt guilty as his mother. I told her the only thing I could think of, “He didn’t hurt anyone and didn’t want to hurt anyone. That is a testament to you as a mother. You couldn’t have predicted this. He internalized something; you wouldn’t have known. The solid lessons stuck with him. He only ended up hurting himself---and only God knows why. That is not your fault.” After we chatted a few minutes, she asked why I was in the hospital. I told her about Cole and about his struggle with cancer and cancer relapse. She looked me square in the face, her eyes lit up, and she said, “Does he need bone marrow right now? I can call downstairs and see if he matches.” I told her thank you, but no. (The fact that she was thinking of others at a time when her own heart was breaking was the one thing I’ll carry with me. Her son was downstairs in the O.R. having his organs harvested, and she was worried about MY son.) We talked a little while longer, I gave her another hug, passed along my deepest and most sincere condolences, and said goodbye. I left her with my guardian angel pin and also a coin that had the Serenity Prayer on it for in her pocket. She needed it today more than I did. God is already with me. I know He is with her too. I just hope she can feel it through her sorrow.

Quite a story, isn't it?

Dear God, please comfort both of these mothers and their families. And thank you for my "guardian angels."