Yesterday the whole family worked together emptying Mom's house, it was a great, productive day. We were all just beat when we began wrapping it up. Mom lived on a pretty regularly traveled street, and while I was putting the last few things in my car one of Alex's buddies came walking by. Kind of at a fast pace, but (in hindsight) looking lost. My immediate thought was (knowing these kids) that he partied downtown the night before, didn't drive after he had been drinking, and that he was walking home, or to get his car, or something.
I was tired. Pleasant. But not engaging. I wanted to get home and not chat. He was pleasant, made 30 seconds of small talk and then kept going. I didn't stop doing what I was doing to really look at him. Had I taken the time to do that, I might have been able to be there for him. I might have given him some encouragement to open up. I might have given him a hug he needed.
But I didn't know until I got home that his Dad had died this day.
I didn't know. I didn't know.
Rest in peace.