On the heartbreaking loss of a mother and son

If you look up the word senseless in the dictionary, you’ll find a long list of names of the people who have been killed by drunk drivers.

Add two names to that list today – Sylvia Washington and her son Major Washington of Lansing, MI. They died last evening at the hands of an alleged hit-and-run drunk driver who thankfully was apprehended and jailed.

Major was a student at my children’s high school, and while I didn’t know Sylvia or her son personally, I mourn their deaths and I feel the heartbreak shared by our whole community.

Our school is relatively small  -- just 500 students. Even still, I don’t get the chance to know the parents whose students don’t cross paths with mine in one activity or another. My high schoolers are in the 12th and 9th grades; Major was a junior. But my children knew him and liked him. Kindness is the trait that exudes from their descriptions of him.

Being mothers of teenaged sons, I’m certain Sylvia and I had some things in common. The dynamic of mothers and sons is similar, if not universal. It’s perhaps one of the simplest, yet most endearing relationships – the one that seems to have best weathered the cultural changes that altered the dynamic between parents and children, and between men and women generally.

Like me, Sylvia probably was amazed at the changes in her son these past few years. A late bloomer, Major recently morphed into a young adult version of himself – bigger, stronger and more defined. Perhaps, as I do about my son, she shook her head at Major's insatiable appetite and wondered where he put all those calories. Perhaps she also packed lunches with extra chips and cookies and a second sandwich to keep him going through the day. Perhaps she hoped that his recent growth would earn him more playing time in football and a spot on the basketball team.

Like me, Sylvia may have wondered how the years passed so quickly. She probably looked at photos of her son as a toddler and mused about his bright eyes and his fleshy smile. Perhaps she recalled how busy he was and how tired he made her. Perhaps, like me, she secretly missed the days when her son loved dinosaurs and Tonka trucks and knocking over building blocks.

Last night, Sylvia rode home in a car with her son. I did the same with mine. Perhaps, like me, she spent several minutes admonishing him for some act of teenage irresponsibility. Mine hadn’t planned ahead for an evening meeting at school, which meant I’d have to get him home fast for dinner and then drive him back. Just an inconvenience. Such a trivial thing, really.

I hope Sylvia’s time with her son was better spent. I hope that last ride was cheerful . I hope Major charmed his mom, as teenaged boys so often do. I hope she turned to smile at him or tease him or tell him she was proud of him, as moms of teenaged boys so often do.

I’m grieving today for a husband and father whose world has been senselessly shattered, and for a community that struggles to put its loss into perspective. And I’m thankful today for the blessing of a son who brings such joy and delight to the heart of his mother.

And most of all I’m praying that the Son of God and his loving Mother have welcomed another mom and son into eternity, where hearts are never broken but live forever in love.