Today was a strange day

Today I woke up and did what I had planned to do. I went to the beach with two of my best friends, Robert and Nick. The drive down was uneventful-- traffic aside-- and I had the opportunity to do something I love, enjoy the beach. Today was an almost perfect beach day. It was sunny and warm, almost 70 degrees according to my phone. The clouds were sparse and the sun was plentiful (as I type this, I wince in pain if my pink back touches anything but air, despite the three layers of coppertone I put on). The water, as is typical, was quite cold, which meant I only stuck my feet in. This lead to me mostly sitting around on the towel and trying to get a few shades darker (or at least redder). As I lay down, I busted out my new smart phone, and was glad to see that I had 4G LTE, supposedly the fastest internet service available. "Man, they really pull out all the stops at the beach, don't they?" I said to myself, ironically thinking of how dirty Santa Monica beach can be, but with such a nice locale who can argue, right?

So anyway, as I surf the internet using the fastest wireless a cell phone company can offer, I of course opened my Facebook account. I have this strange habit where I just skim Facebook to see if anything interesting has happened in the world of approximately 500 people that I claimed to at one point care about enough to add them as friends, and beg them to tell me what they had for lunch and when they get engaged. This has led to many posts about things I don't find particularly interesting, but I try to skim their lives briefly anyway, just to keep in touch as best I can (I promise most of you, I do my best.) As I was skimming through posts, I read one from a parent who I could see instantly was distressed greatly. She announced with a brief post that her son Johnny had died and that prayers for she and her family would be greatly appreciated. Of course, as a person of faith and as a human being this plead instantly tugged at my heart strings, but was increased tenfold as I glanced up to the blue name sitting above the brief but unsettling status update.

Bekki Gilmore DelVecchio.

My sister's baby of 5 months passed away today. A member of my family passed away today. My nephew had passed away today. My nephew who I had never met had passed away today. My heart instantly went out to my sister, her husband, and her 4 children who had just lost their little brother. I did not know what to do. As the day progressed, I tried to enjoy the beach the rest of the day, but I had a heavy weight on my mind. I worried for my sister, for my family, and for the future. I knew that they were in tough economic circumstances. They had recently moved back to Missouri. I had the opportunity to see them in November, but Bekki was still pregnant then. (I had to think hard about whether or not I had met my nephew prior to his passing, as this encounter was my neice Bella's birthday and there were little kids running around everywhere.) I had not had the opportunity to be a part of this little youngster's life.

At a time like this, many turn to faith, myself included. Growing up LDS, I know that this baby is safe. I know that he will live forever with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and that already he is doing work for his family and our Heavenly Father. I am thankful for this knowledge. I'm thankful for the knowledge and comfort that this brings to me. I'm thankful that God has a plan. And, to be totally honest, I'm thankful that I have no idea what it is. I think if I understood how complicated the world was that I'd be a stuck up know-it-all (literally) and that I would serve no purpose to anybody. And even if I wasn't, I feel as though somehow I'd still go out of my way to be out of the loop and have no idea what I was doing.

As I was writing this post, I went to my sister's Facebook page. I was scrolling through her informational posts about his passing and I was heartbroken to see his beautiful face. His eyes were large, like his sister Bella. They were the kind of cute and innocent baby eyes that instantly strike you, as if he's taking in as much of the world as he could. It's a comfort to know that he got to take in a little extra of the world, despite his brief respite here on earth. I can only imagine the good that he is already doing and the good that he will do in the next life.

As I scan her Facebook page, I can see post after post of friends and family sending comfort, and can feel the love in their posts. It is striking how people rally around others in times of sorrow such as this. It doesn't matter who belongs to what church, who you voted for in the last election, or what offenses may have been set against who in the past. Because now, we're all human beings. Compassionate meat sacks rallying around somebody who we love and care for, with prayers and a faith in God that all is well and on his time. It's a strange thing, how death brings the living closer together. And maybe that's just a bit of God's plan. I haven't had the opportunity to see these niece's and nephews, the distance has always made this difficult. My oldest niece Nevaeh (Heaven spelled backwards. It's given a whole new meaning given recent events) is 8 years old and I've only had the opportunity to visit with her probably 6 or 7 times in her entire lifetime. However, I get to take a trip out to see her for Johnny's funeral, along with my Dad. This may be the first time I get to see all of my older siblings together, with all of their kids.

This is the first time I've ever dealt with the death of a family member. Although I never spoke to or even met Johnny, it still hits home that there was a death in my family. It seems strange, losing somebody who I never met but who I feel so much pain in losing. I cannot imagine what it's like to lose a child, but my heart and my prayers go out out to my sister. I cannot wait to see her and her family, or the rest of my siblings. The siblings who I haven't lived with for longer than a year's time. The siblings who seem to always argue over something, even as adults. The siblings who I know have a lot of love for each other. The siblings who I have a lot of love, respect, and admiration for despite their flaws. Because I see them working to improve themselves every day despite past mistakes. I have never been extremely close to them for very long. We still talk every now and then, but not nearly often enough. And that's the lesson that I'm taking from this: that life is short, and life is precious, and that we only have one shot at it. Cliched though it is, it's true, and it's anchored into my heart thanks to Johnny.


RIP Johnny Jay DelVecchio. I'll see you in heaven little guy.