It's taken me a while to get to writing this. But it would seem neglectful and cold not to write anything.
On Oct. 16, 2010, Austin Jon Pollock died. He was just 18 years old, just getting ready to start his life. He graduated from high school in May. He was set to start Marine boot camp in February. And in an instant, it was all taken away.
Austin was my oldest son's friend. They weren't best friends, but at one time they were. They met when Anthony was just 9. Austin was 10. They rode the bus together, played video games, had sleep overs, and all the stuff that boys do. On Anthony's 11th birthday and Austin's 12th, they shared the celebration. Their birthday's were only a 13 days apart, and they would be inviting all the same friends, so it just made sense. They grew apart as they grew older, but they would touch base with each other over a burger or pop every month or so. Anthony is heartbroken. But he is handling his friend's loss with more grace, depth and maturity than I ever thought possible. More than most adults.
Austin was also the son of one of my best friends. Donna and I met through our kids. And as she told me the first time we met, "Adults would never make friends if it weren't for our kids forcing us to socialize." Austin was Donna's only son. He was his parent's pride and joy, of course. Donna has been such a rock in my life for years. She was my maid of honor, my rock and my sounding board. After all she's done for me, I'm helpless to do anything for her other than bring down re-heatable casseroles for her and her husband to eat -- though I imagine their grief is too raw, too consuming to even begin to think about eating more than a few bites. It seems despicable, cruel and beyond tragic that a mother would have to bury her child. I know it's been said before, but it just seems so unfair. So wrong. Heartbreaking does not begin to describe what I imagine Donna's feeling. I pray each night for her to find peace, and that I might come up with some magical words to bring her some comfort. I am failing so far.
To me, Austin was an awesome kid. Always happy, always up for anything, outgoing to the max, polite in an Eddie Haskell kind of way, and a total smart ass. Through all my memories of Austin, he always has a mischievous grin on his face. He was an Eagle Scout, an avid -- well, an avid EVERYTHING -- hiker, wrestler, four-wheeler, fisherman, runner, lawn mower ... everything. You name it. He did it.
From time to time, I check Anthony's Facebook page. Up until a couple weeks ago, Anthony's page was littered with comments from Austin Pollock. And apparently, Austin was famous/infamous for his signature comment. At just about every opportunity, Austin would comment, "K" on each of his friends' actions. At his funeral the largest floral display was a cluster of purple flowers shaped as a "K."
I will miss Austin.
