What Could Have Been

Doing dishes, I looked out the window into our backyard and froze. In an instant, Elle was back and two years older.


The blondie is close to what would have been Elle's age, height, beautiful long blonde hair, wearing her signature pink gymnastic suit... you get the picture.

I can imagine this scene would have been a familiar sight—a bunch of little neighbor girls in our yard, and Cam playing Master of Ceremonies. Cam wouldn't know what loneliness meant. He wouldn't know real pain. If anything, he'd be fighting off the girls to get some space.


Getty came into my room late one night last week and gave me a heads up that Cam was upset about Elle. Getty had lain beside him in Cam's twin bed and tried his best to comfort him. So, I walked into Cam's bedroom, sat on his bed, and cried with him and for him. We had just returned from Spring Break in Las Vegas, where there was barely a reminder of Elle. When he got settled into bed, he faced the picture he had drawn of her about a year ago and taped by his door.

"I feel like she's saying good-bye."

What can I tell him?


Option A.—You'll see her again in about 75 years... or when the world ends in a giant catastrophe.

Option B.—I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you have to live without her for the rest of your life. I'm sorry you lost your best friend on earth. I'm sorry she left without warning. I'm sorry you can't see her. Or hear her. Or hug her. Or hear her laugh when you go crazy.

But I know this much—she sees you. She hears you. You can still talk to her. She will be with you throughout your entire life. You are still her best friend. She misses you. She thinks you're funny. She loves you.



Option B is better, but unfortunately option A is just as accurate. ... sigh.