We lost our middle daughter for a few minutes at an overly packed amusement park when she was 8 years old. Through the shoulder-to-shoulder audience in front of a magic show, I could hear her calling out, "Daddy!!!" as I visually searched the crowd for my little red head. I'll never forget the gut-punch feeling I had, worrying that someone might snatch her and I'd never see her again.
That horrible moment probably lasted just minutes but it felt like forever! Thinking about that moment still causes me to tear up and moves me to be so thankful I found her, and to hug her so tight now when I see her as a grown woman and a mom herself. The memory of the pain also helped me over the years remain calm in moments when her behavior was driving me crazy as a little girl, and then as a teenager.
But relating this incident and what I felt as a Dad in no way overshadows what happened in Texas recently at Camp Mystic. When I read this one article, it brought back those feelings again. According to the article, the mom of 8-year-old Blakely watched her daughter get on the bus to the summer camp and never saw her again. The floods wiped out Camp Mystic and claimed 27 precious lives, 21 of them children.
I felt so blessed reading the article and knowing that Blakely's mom was willing to share this very sad story with us. I hope that every reader with children will keep this story in mind when their children are driving them crazy. I hope they will use it to calm themselves and know that we only have one chance to raise and to be with our child. We only have now and shouldn't assume we'll always have them.
One of the hardest parts of Blakely's mom's story that affected me most, was what happened next. In her mail, letters from camp, written on fill-in-the-blank stationary, arrived with messages from Blakely. Although they must be precious gifts to her, it must have been so hard for her mom to read them. I know they would have been for me. I still have precious notes and letters written by my three children. I keep them in a safe box and every once in a while, I take them out and reread the fragile paper notes, asking me not to forget some things they from me and the wonderful words, I LOVE YOU DAD.
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