A Death in the Cyberfamily

I joined my August '97 birthmonth list in January of 1997, less than two months after I got my positive pregnancy test. To say that it changed my life would be an understatement, considering that my bestest girlfriends--and more than half the people who comment here on any regular basis--come from that very same list. Our babies--or, as we call them, our Auggies--have been cybercousins since the days they were born, many of them to mothers who sent out emails to the list from labor and delivery (or from a birth center, or from their bedroom...). Em has met a number of the Auggies, and knows about many others from stories I tell her as events in their lives unfold.

We've been together for 11 years now, and there are still 60-some of us subscribed, I think. Or something like that.

Early today, one of our number was driving a car on a slick road in Texas when she lost control of her car, crossed a grassy median into oncoming traffic, and was hit by an oncoming passenger truck. Her daughter--her Auggie--was killed instantly. (She and her younger child were injured but seem not to be in serious danger, thank goodness.)

I can't untangle the tears for the little girl, who I've known since she was born, and the tears for her mom, and the tears for 'it could have been me, it could have been Em, I can't imagine the pain, I don't want to imagine the pain, I can't stop imagining the pain'. And really, it doesn't matter. This is an event worthy of tears, wherever they come from.

There's been a refrain in the shocked and horrified emails on our list since the news made its way to us, and it brings a fresh batch of sobbing each time I read it:

Rest in peace, Maeve.