My heart is, and always will be, yours.

The father of one of Christopher's Steeler teammates passed away last week from cancer. We thought it would be a good idea to take Christopher to the funeral home so that he could offer his condolences and support to his friend. When we arrived at Schraders, his teammate wasn't in the room where the family and friends were gathering. Someone said he was in the lounge in another part of the building. We headed towards the lounge and I was overcome with a feeling of grief and sadness for this boy. I sent Chris and Christopher on ahead of me as I tried to compose myself. Christopher's friend wasn't in the lounge; he had walked down the street to Starbucks to get a drink. I was relieved because even though I wanted Christopher to see his friend, I knew it was going to be hard to witness this boy's grief. Just as we were getting ready to leave, his friend returned and we had a chance to see him. At first he did not want to see Christopher and stayed with family across the room but finally he came over to Christopher, who offered his hand and a few tender words of sympathy. I could see the mixture of heartache and embarrassment as this boy was in so much pain but did not want to show it in front of his football friend. My eyes were stinging with tears and my heart felt like it would burst. I had to go outside and walk for a bit to compose myself because I could feel one of those inconsolable cries coming on. (See: Emma Thompson in "Sense and Sensibility.)

I felt indescribable sorrow for this boy and his family who are now having to experience a pain like none other in life. I wanted to tell them that this is not the end but that they will see their dad, husband, brother, son again. I wanted them to have this knowledge for themselves to make the pain more bearable. I'm hoping there will come a time when I can share this most precious treasure with them.