I had every intention of walking down my street to meet her. One of her sons consistently comes to my front door asking “can Seth play?” to which I usually reply “he’s already outside, hon.” They are from Texas, that I know well. One doesn’t often see children running up and down streets in Oklahoma wearing Texas Longhorn jerseys unless they are truly from the Lone Star State. But now I’ll never be able to meet her. I’ll never know what her voice sounded like or how she fixed her little girl’s hair or how she felt about being a stay-at-home mom. I’ll never know those things not because she moved out of my neighborhood. No, I’ll never know those things because she died three nights ago. Unexpectedly. Suddenly. Tragically. At the age of 41, she left her husband and five children behind. Five children. And there’s no other way for me to say it but I’m just plain sick about it. My heart hurts for a family I don’t even know. I’m grieving the loss of something that quite honestly, I had no desire in knowing. I mean, the last thing I really wanted to do was walk to the end of my street in the heat of the day to introduce myself to someone who I may or may not like. I already have neighbor friends whom I enjoy being with. I didn’t need another one. I have no idea about her eternity. I don’t know how her children will deal with their grief. I don’t know if they have a close-knit family back home to help them through this tragedy. I don’t have a single clue. And I don’t even know her name, for cryin’ out loud. I am battling so much inside right now as I write these words. I am thinking of those four boys and one little girl who will never see their mother again. How they will have a question about something one day and realize that it was mom who always did that or knew where that thing was. They will want to share something cool with her and then run to tell her only to remember that she’s no longer there. And now there is a dad who has been slammed against a wall that he probably never saw coming. He will take on all her roles and I’m guessing it will either crush him or create a new man. Of course, I can’t help but think of my life. I’m 40. She was 41. That could have been me. Could be me in the future. Leaving my husband as a widower is tough to think about but leaving my sons without a mother? I’d rather swim constantly in an indoor swimming pool, eat seafood every meal of my life and have scorpions crawl all over my body. It’s very possible that part of my sadness is really for me, for my boys, for my family. And the fact that I even admitted that makes me feel even more selfish than I already am. I would pray for God to ruin me, but I think He already is.