I’ve been emailing since I got my first Prodigy Classic account back in 1991. In that time, I’d estimate I’ve received more than 500,000 emails. However, none of them have been as devastating as the one my wife received from my 8-year-old son Benjamin’s third-grade teacher Tuesday night.
In that email, we learned the father of one of the children in his class died suddenly that morning. I don’t know all of the parents in his class. In fact, I barely know any of them. But I knew him. His daughter (my son’s classmate) is one of the sweetest little girls I’ve ever met. I don’t even know the words to describe how I upset I am for her loss.
My wife Tiffany met him at a class field trip to the zoo last June (the girl was in Ben’s class last year, too). Tiff came back and told me what a crack-up he was. During that field trip, Tiff was having a lot of fun with the kids, and didn’t exactly get her group to complete the assigned project. When the teacher asked her if the kids were done, he stepped in and stalled time a little bit, preventing Tiff from getting busted by a second-grade teacher at the ripe old age of 33. When I heard this, I knew I had to meet him!
I met him shortly thereafter and the end-of-year parents vs. students softball game. We really clicked and had a blast talking to each other during the game for about an hour. He was hilarious, and kind of a big kid like me. I saw him again during the summer at Benjamin’s birthday party and again at church a few times. He was a fun guy and I can tell he was a good dad by how sweet his daughter is.
He really seemed to like my Operation Jack idea of running 60 marathons this year to help out Train 4 Autism. Tiff saw him at the gas station once in the fall and he took a bunch of flyers to distribute. At back-to-school night, he was teasing me in front of the parents, asking me if I was running 30 marathons this year. No, 60 actually, thanks for making me look like I’m bragging!
Every time I saw him, I asked for permission for Benjamin to marry his daughter. Joking, of course, because they’re only 8, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and you can already tell what a great little girl she is. We crossed paths while we were waiting for parent-teacher conferences in November. As always, we had a great time talking, and my son’s teacher had to separate us so I could go in for the conference and let her stay on schedule. I got busted by a third-grade teacher at the ripe old age of 34! I don’t think I saw him again after that day.
I was completely shocked when I found that out on Tuesday night. I mean, him? I was in the denial phase, wondering if she had another dad. My wife couldn’t sleep after hearing that and went down on the computer. She sent me a picture she took of him with his daughter on that trip to the zoo. I just stared at it, crying, feeling so terrible for both of them. There’s more members of the family, but I’m just vaguely talking about them. Anyways, I felt like I needed to run, but I didn’t know how I was going to do it.
I got up, opened up the front door and saw it was raining. I knew God was crying too, so I didn’t run. I knew I needed to take the day off. I went to work, but could hardly think. I was in a funk all day.
We told Benjamin about it before he went to school, because we didn’t want him to find out about it and get upset in front of all his friends. He had met him several times and was shocked. It was tough telling Benjamin and he was startled, but didn’t have a major reaction. He seemed a little bit upset, and we told him not to talk about it with other kids out of respect for his classmate. He didn’t, and even told kids to stop talking about it when he heard gossiping on the playground. A little later in the day, he broke down crying in class. In a way, I was proud to hear that, because it’s nice to know your kid has a big heart.
I’ve been praying a lot for the family. I’m totally heartbroken by this and somehow, someday, I want to help them in any way possible. I feel absolutely terrible about this. But right now is not the time.
I’m continuing with my next marathon of Operation Jack this Sunday, the Arizona Rock ‘N Roll Marathon in Phoenix. He liked what I was doing and I know he’ll be watching. I hate to sound so cheesy and say that I’m going to win one for the Gipper, but he’s going to be on my mind and I’m going all-out to make him proud. It’s my one chance to do that, and he’s going to get my all.