It’s been two years since Feb 28, 2014. Three pm. SUV slides on icey roads. Fishtails. Crosses lane. T-boned by oncoming truck. Three lives instantly lost. Two lives miraculously spared, seemingly healed, yet marked for life.

Parents and families devastated.   Community shocked. Stunned at senseless loss. Grief is all encompassing at that time.   Words unable to articulate the cavernous wounds in the hearts and souls. Communication happens more gutturally. Through simple Presence even though silent. Hugs. Tears. Sharing meals and Kleenexes.

I knew the First Anniversary of the wreck would be HUGE. What about this second anniversary? I find myself zigzagging between the urgency of intensely remembering the moment I got “the call” to realizing that most times, that Urgency has passed. Yes, the tears will still blurt out sometimes, but not always now. We are living forward. How do I reflect on the tension of living forward? Time passing.

My son was spared. More than spared, he has recovered from his severe traumatic brain injury, collapsed lung, 8 broken bones and a rod in his femur in a way his doctors state is “nothing less than a miracle”.   Now beyond his initial burst of healing that baffled all in its expediency, he has continued to have a slower, more nuanced recovery.   It is this slower, more nuanced healing that strikes me today.

He is with us. We can talk on the phone. We can laugh and watch him play Frisbee. Sometimes, now, I don’t always think “Wow, I GET to call Conor”.   Instead I say “Let’s call Conor”.   Some parts of some days it seems “normal” to be a family of 4.

Yet, as I have been looking to this day coming, I also realize that, similar to my son’s healing, the Urgency of this experience is also morphing to a more nuanced package of emotions for me, as time is passing-at least mostly. It hit me when I travelled to a recent Frisbee Tournament in Tampa. Two years ago this Tampa tournament was the last time the team played together before the wreck. Parents hung out, forming bonds on sidelines.

One year later-one year ago- this tournament was HUGE. Grieving those players. Celebrating Conor playing. Debriefing with parents on the sidelines.

This year–the tournament was mostly about playing Frisbee. Over 50% of the players now did not share “the wreck” experience. Some parents did not know it occurred.   The sideline conversations were more focused on the field, than on memories and grief.   Sometimes I struggled to BE in the moment. It can be difficult for me to hold this passage out of the urgent. I don’t want to forget the ongoing grief of the three families whose sons did not survive. I don’t want to LOSE that soul searing palpable gratitude for the miracle of my son’s recovery. I want to always remember what it was like to “be carried” by God, by angels of community.

Part of my discomfort with this transition is I just don’t know yet how to carry the nuanced feelings in a way that feels authentic. This weekend, Buckley and I are at a 3 day traditional Indian wedding celebration of a lovely couple. We were honored to be invited, and have cherished the experience. When my friends here ask how I am doing, I don’t quite know how to express the joy of celebrating this couple committing to a life together, our general Thanksgiving for the health of our sons, and the Anniversary weekend and all it carries.   How to express the mixture?? Early on after the wreck, it was always TOP and CENTER. Now, it is not always. And how do I feel about that?

Conor said some things at Tampa tournament that stick with me. “Mom, life is moving on. The wreck is not the story of half the people on the team now. The seniors graduated who were their classmates. It is different on campus. That’s just the way it is”. Pragmatism has its place!

I do know it is not about forgetting. EVERY DAY I think about that wreck, at least a dozen times. I think about those families, those mothers and my soul aches. I wear my blue bracelet with the three boys’ names on them. It is more below the surface now. And it’s not “just” below the surface for only me. On the Tampa sidelines, I asked a parent what was it like for the boys immediately after the wreck…and she immediately burst into tears. We are all still processing, aren’t we?

Yes, the more nuanced emotions are gaining voice. More of an ability to reflect not just react. Maybe there is more “space”.   A different stage of grief. A more calm “knowing” of the miraculous. I am struck that a major continuing theme is about empathy. I looked out on that Frisbee field realizing my son carries those scars on his body and heart– and one would not know by watching him play. I talk to that Mom and ask a question, and tears immediately flow.  Both, to me, were poignant examples of the truth and pain that People carry inside– and we have NO idea it is there. A call to empathy for sure.

So, on this second anniversary, I will again light three candles and grieve. I will reach out to others I know are also forever touched by this event. I know we are all still processing. I will sing Praise for healing of my son. And I will accept that this is the season for Passage beyond the Urgency, trusting that as we live forward, authenticity comes with us.