Loss comes in many different forms; loss of a loved one, loss of a job, loss of a marriage, loss of a friendship, or loss of a tangible thing such as a home, car or family heirloom. While some themes of loss are common, expected even, others are not. Today it’s the “others” that has me troubled.
When a loved one dies, the pain can be suffocating, unbearable, and that is to be expected. While there is no exact formula for navigating such a loss, there are societal norms and customs to guide the path; sympathy cards, memorial services, et cetera. What happens however when the loss fits no prefabricated category, or really cannot clearly be defined as a loss, but is still accompanied by a sense of grief? This is the place in which I currently find myself.
Our oldest son arrived in 1991 and four short years later joined his first organized sports team, pee wee soccer. His sister and brother arriving in 1994 and 1996 respectively, followed suite. From Fall 1995 – Fall 2018, for the mathematically challenged, that’s over twenty years, we were soccer parents, baseball parents, volleyball parents, track parents, basketball parents, cheerleading parents and football parents.
Those years of practices and games, while sometimes absolute chaos were also pure joy. Watching our children work hard, have fun, gain skills, learn teamwork, navigate through both winning and losing were important and exciting seasons in our family.
The two oldest kids retired from competitive team sports after their high school graduations, leaving our youngest son as the sole recipient of our focus for the last two years of his high school athletic career, and all four and a half years of his college career.
While all of our children were strong athletes, Chris’ athleticism was different; from the beginning he stood out among his peers. For the sake of keeping busy and staying in shape, he played all sports, but football was his passion. He started on varsity as a sophomore in high school and ended his college football career as team captain and an All-American. Oddly, this is the loss I find myself now grappling with.
Chris suffered several injuries during his college career and missed games during his sophomore and junior years. While the injuries were disappointing for all of us, they allowed him an official redshirt along with the opportunity for him to play during the final semester leading to his December 2018 graduation.
The last game of his Senior year at Hardin-Simmons University was a loss to the eventual national championship team Mary-Hardin Baylor. While everyone hoped for a win, that day Chris lead the defensive effort with nine tackles, an intercepted pass, and a blocked field goal. He left it all on the field, like he always had. In the post-game interview with the senior captains were asked about the loss what the past four years had meant to them. Chris was obviously broken but had a profound response regarding when he said, “The harvest will come.” Even in that emotional moment, he was thinking of his team. It is this era that I mourn.
For four years our weekends were devoted to college football road trips. We traveled not only in Texas for his games, but also Mississippi, Louisiana and Oregon. Abilene is four hours from San Marcos where we lived his first two seasons, and six hours from Beeville where we lived the latter part of his career. Those trips guaranteed us the opportunity to watch our son’s passion and prowess on the field and allowed us time to visit with him afterwards, usually dinner together, and often trips to the grocery store for his provisions.
During football season, my social media posts were all about #35. After his college graduation, he joked with a former teacher and friend that he didn’t know what his mom would find to post about when there was no more football for him. Now when those historical posts pop up in my feed, I often find myself in tears struggling with a sense of loss.
I feel guilty. In the grand scheme of things, I’ve lost nothing. It isn’t me whose athletic career has ended, and Chris is alive and well, continuing his education at Hardin-Simmons working towards a master’s degree. He is still part of athletics as a graduate assistant, continuing his legacy coaching a new generation of linebackers. So why am I so sad?
Perhaps the truth is I am just not ready to let go. I loved watching him play, loved talking about my son the college football player, loved travelling to games every weekend, loved hearing his name called over the loud speaker for an amazing defensive play, loved seeing his name in the post-game write ups and loved having that connect point with him.
What now? What am I supposed to do with myself? I really don’t know. This is my struggle. What does one do when “it”, whatever “it” represents is over? For me “it” is the end of my son’s college football career, but I am sure many others have their own “it”. To all of you out struggling to find a new path, stay strong, doors will open, of that I am certain.
Until Next Time,
Becky J Miller
“Warrior Princess”