Four Crossed Logs: Terror and Tragedy – A Parent’s Perspective

Few are strangers to the terrible news that has surrounded the media over the last week or so.

I was up rather late last night working on a final assignment and I came across an awful event that occurred at the Disney resort: A 2-year-old boy was snatched by an alligator and dragged into a lagoon. He didn’t survive.

I was reading through my Twitter feed searching for some sort of “good” news until it dawned on me that there probably wouldn’t be.

Before I went to bed, I looked in on my daughter who was resting peacefully in her room, and I lost it.

I went through all of my 20s looking out for one person: me. I was always in control of my surroundings. I was in control of what clubs I went to, what parties I attended and who I surrounded myself with. I was fearless. I went bungee-jumping and skydiving. I would drive home after a long night out. I was never paranoid about anything other than work-related stuff.

But here I am, 34 years old, married and gazing at the beautiful life that I was able to create with the most amazing man I have ever had the chance to know. She is small and happy. She has no idea what danger is. She loves our dogs and cat. She is amazed by the sand on the beach, and she loves the feeling of the saltwater rushing up over her tiny feet. The world is this giant ball of wonder.

Most of all, she’s never alone; someone who loves her is always there to watch over her. When she was learning to crawl, she would give up and lie face down on the carpet. Then she would look up, smile and try again.

As she’s learning to walk, she stumbles and runs into things all of the time. As much as I’d like to think I can control any mishaps, I know I can’t and won’t always be able to do that.
Just like those parents weren’t able to.

I revisited the story again today. Today the story feed was filled with comments like, “It’s the parents’ fault” or “Where were the parents?” The parents were there. The parents probably saved all year to take their 2-year-old to this place known worldwide to be surrounded by joy and imagination. They fought this terrifying animal trying to pry their son from its mouth as it dragged him under water. Then, they had to go back to the hotel room where they were hours before. They were be surrounded by his clothes.

Soon, they will travel back home with one empty car seat in the rearview mirror. They will have to go back to their home where they will see pictures and his bedroom. They will have this unimaginable memory of his last moments.

Somehow, they will have to explain to his baby sister that her brother won’t be coming back. And one day when she’s a bit older, she will be told the horrifying story (or find it on the internet) and probably suffer in an entirely other way.

It’s not a temporary pain. This story is a nightmare.

Before I had a child, I might’ve joined the group of ignorant people who criticized the parents, and maybe that’s why I’m taking it so hard. So many times we think we know it all. We speak without thinking first, and we communicate judgments that have the ability to cause so much harm to others.

What I’ve gained over the past several years is a combination of maturity and a love that could never be re-manufactured. It’s the only love that’s completely eternal, a true miracle. And it’s good to feel, even when it hurts.