Sadness

Every good parent has them, I think. Those worst-case-scenario dreams where you wake up sobbing, then have to get out of bed and go check on your sleeping babies to make sure they're still with you. Even when the babies are teenagers. Oh how I wish Mark and Debra could wake up, go check on him, and find him snoring peacefully.

Driving back from Oklahoma yesterday, we were still nearly 90 minutes from home when we received word that a family dear to us had lost one of its own. They were on their way to dress rehearsal for Casa Manana's Twas the Night Before Christmas when, out of the blue, 13-year-old Caleb's heart stopped beating during an apparent seizure (he had no history of seizures).

The rest of the day can be summed up in two words: Shock. Tears.

All three of us have shared the stage with Caleb. He was in Footloose, an animated, goofy part of the core dance crew, who delighted in the fact that he could sing the bass part in Mama Says. He and his brother were the boys Yente brings to Golde in Fiddler on the Roof. "They are wonderful boys, Golde, from good families. Each of them a prize, a jewel." He let me pretend to spit-smooth his hair and straighten his vest every show. He was silly and gracious, exuberant and nearly always grinning, and had a snappy, intelligent sense of humor far beyond his years. This pic is from closing day of Footloose.

Last night we opened A Christmas Carol. Nearly every person in the cast has worked with Caleb. It was probably the hardest show most of us have ever done.

Tomorrow is never guaranteed. Hug your babies every day, and live as though it's your last.

My prayers, my breaking heart, and my tears are with the Midkiff family today and months to come.