Family Time -- Steve Smith

At age 46, I am reduced to performing my morning run in a special

jacket designed to trap body heat, the land version of a wet suit. In one

pocket is an inhaler in the event the combination of exercise and asthma

make it necessary for me to breathe easier. In the other pocket is my

driver’s license so that if I drop dead, the authorities will know how to

reach my family. I’m not in serious danger of dropping dead, but I’d like

to make it easier on everyone if I do.

It’s not pretty and it’s not pleasant, but that’s the way it is. On

Monday, after a four-day layoff due to some traveling, I ran my usual

route in Fairview Park. Halfway through, I stopped, resisting the urge to

use the inhaler. And as much as I wanted to meet the challenge of

finishing, I knew it was not the smart thing to do. So, I walked back

home.

On my way back, I saw a man tending the makeshift memorial to Ceceline

Godsoe, the 16-year-old who was brutally killed during the summer and

whose killer remains at large. I approached the bluff and took a chance.

“Are you Ceceline’s father?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

I introduced myself and told him that his daughter’s death had a big

effect on my life. I did not tell him that her death had as much effect

as the World Trade Center attack, but upon reflection it’s true.

The World Trade Center was 3,000 miles away, and as tragic as it was

and has been since, it does not compare with this single death only a few

yards from my door.

“Things happen for a reason,” her father said. “And I’m still trying

to figure out what the reason is. But all I keep thinking about is the

‘should haves’ and ‘could haves.’ I hope that her death helps people

understand how important it is to appreciate their loved ones.”

As he spoke he moved around the memorial, watering flowers and

straightening out the many tokens that visitors have left over the past

several weeks. It seems that there are new cards, notes and other items

almost every day.

Standing over her flowers and gifts, Ceceline’s father continued.

“We used to come to this spot and recite the 23rd Psalm,” he said.

The 23rd Psalm, also known as the Lord’s Prayer, includes the passage,

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I

shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’

During the few minutes we spent together, Ceceline’s father’s

expression never changed. It was a look beyond grief, beyond any ability

to fully comprehend the horror of his daughter’s vicious murder.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said with the same expression.

Then he turned and slowly walked away, his head down.

The loss of a child is a pain so great that only those who have been

through it can understand its devastation. There is no greater emotional

pain that an adult can experience.

And yet, Ceceline’s father’s hope for his daughter’s legacy and the

fresh memory of more than 3,000 dead men and women in New York have been

completely lost on too many people. And I wonder whether, in the shadow

of this man’s horror, such matters as who is a cheerleader and who is not

are really worth the energy we are spending to resolve them.

At a time when round-the-clock rescue workers have just uncovered 13

new bodies at the World Trade Center and are only now reaching an area in

which many more bodies are expected, when America has lost its first

serviceman to enemy fire in Afghanistan, when the nation is under siege

from terrorist threats and when Ceceline Godsoe’s unsolved murder tears

at a family in our own school district, it seems to me that it’s a very

good time to do as Ceceline’s father wishes and appreciate our loved

ones, particularly our children. Especially our children.

Had I finished my run according to plan, I would not have met

Ceceline’s father that day. I would not have been touched by his grief,

and I would not have been reminded that life is so very short and that

each day in this great country we are free to make a choice as to how to

spend the precious little time we have on Earth.

Things happen for a reason.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer. Readers

may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at (949) 642-6086.