It's not always about being funny.

For Bug

For little more than a year, I’ve been friends with Tanis, a blogger who’s famous in Canada, which is kind of like being rich in Romania. I mean, I guess some of you may have heard of her outside of the Great White North, but mainly because I’ve written about her several times before. This time, though, it’s a bit more serious. It’s about today, and what today will be like for my friend.

Tanis, I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were four years ago when your son Bug died. I wasn’t there to see you glassy-eyed, barely functioning, enduring a flow of well-wishers and supporters, and then struggling to survive when that flow dried up. I wasn’t there to sit with you quietly, offering nothing more than the solace of another person’s company.

I have never experienced loss on a level even close to yours. I can only try to use what I do know, from knowing you and being your friend, to offer my love and support. I know that Bug was loved deeply by his mother and his father and his brother and his sister. I know that he will live forever within your heart. And I know that even though the pain will never go away, your fond memories of his time on this earth will grow stronger until the hurt is more bearable. And that doesn’t mean that your love was or is or will ever be any less.

Today is going to be a hard day. Today you will be mourning one son while celebrating the birthday of your newly adopted son. How do you do both? How do you separate a celebration of a lost life and a celebration of a new one?

If I can be presumptuous, let me answer that. You don’t. Every time you embrace Jumby, every step you take while carrying him, every minute you spend with him at the doctor’s, helping him to grow stronger, you are celebrating life. You are living life to the fullest, taking that love that Bug had for you and you had for him, and investing it in the world. In Jumby. In Fric and Frac. And that’s the best way to remember your son that I can think of.

I wasn’t there to sit with you then, but I’m here now. And I encourage everyone who is reading this to sit quietly for a moment for Tanis. And then take your love and invest it. Love always pays dividends.

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63 Replies to “For Bug”

  1. Carolyn

    Beautiful tribute, Adam. I thank you for pointing me in Tanis’ direction. She is a wonderfully talented writer. I will indeed be investing my love today.

    Strength and courage to Tanis. She will be in the multitude’s thoughts today.

  2. Sincerely, Jenni

    I like seeing this side of you. I knew it was there, we ALL knew it was there. But it’s nice that you let us into that side every so often.

    Never read Tanis’ blog before, but now I’m going to go check it out. I’ll be thinking of her today.

  3. Amo

    Tanis, today, like all the others…but more so, you are surrounded by our love. Your strength has shown us all the power of a woman who despite all the pain, is not just surviving, but saving others. You’re a hero, Tanis.

  4. Tiffany

    Adam… you rock! Tanis is so lucky to have a friend in you.

    Because of a certain post RM wrote on 09/17/07… I read that post while I was in labor with #3, and because of that post, I’ve learned to cherish my children a little more. To be a little more loving, a little more patient, and a lot more grateful for them.

  5. Mari

    Usually you get me all riled up. Maybe by posting some god awful interview with a dead guy, posting nekkid bits or just being *ahem* confrontational.
    But then you do something like this. And you make me cry. *sniffle*
    And I love you more than ever. In a ‘I don’t want to see any more of your nekkid bits than I already have’ kind of way.
    It *is* still love, though.

  6. Ms Batman

    This is one of the sweetest, most beautiful, heartfelt posts I’ve ever read from you. I think you got it right in that while we all want to offer love and support, sometimes just sitting with them is all we can do, and all they really need.

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