Tragically, this past weekend, a mom in my neighbourhood died very suddenly. Her daughter goes to the same school as my kids. She was a mom of two. She was healthy and active and full of life. And then she was gone.
When I heard the news I felt so sad for her children and her husband and all of those who loved her. I felt sick about everything she will miss and everyone who will miss her. I thought about how lucky I am. I reflected on the suddenness and unpredictability of her death and how alarming it was. I related to her as a woman and a mother. But it was a case of mistaken identity that really brought it home for me.
This is how it went down:
I walked into the school yard to pick up my kids and a woman I know casually walked up to me and said, “Oh my god! You are alive!” I turned to her with what I am sure was a shocked and confused expression and said, “Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”
It turns out that the woman who died had a daughter around my daughter’s age with the same name. And when this other mom heard the news of a fellow mom’s death and heard her daughter’s name she thought it was me. She thought that I was the one who she would no longer chat with in the schoolyard, who would never again pick-up her children for lunch or volunteer in the classroom. She thought she would never again share a glass of wine with me at a neighbour’s barbeque or chat casually about our kids together. She thought I had died.
The feeling was overwhelming.
It could have been me.
I am no different than this woman except for the minor details of our lives.
Gone forever.
It was suddenly so real.
It could have been me.
My heart goes out to my fellow mom and neighbour. And to all of those who loved her and will feel the pain of her loss.