Helpless

I've always felt that I've been fairly good at offering comfort. Whether it's saying a few words or giving a hug, consoling someone is what I like to do. To give the feeling that they are not alone and that someone will be there to help with whatever life is throwing at them at the moment. Tonight, I had the complete opposite feeling.

This morning, a young girl was found dead in her dorm, apparently suicide. When I read the campus-wide email that was sent out making the announcement, I felt a twinge of sadness but continued with my morning because it was not a name I recognized. You know, it only takes a small snowball to start rolling down a hill to create an avalanche. The Varsity softball team was on a retreat this weekend but was woken too early in the morning to receive the news that the young girl was the roommate of a player. Seeing the player break down had an apparent affect on the rest of the team and other coaches. The young girl was also a manager for the women's basketball teams, where two of my JV players have been spending the past few months getting to know her. There was then the debate about whether or not we should still have study hall but it wasn't cancelled. How can you not cancel?! I mean, I understand that the team should spend some time together and talk to the Athletic Counselors if necessary but how badly I wanted to tell them to stay home!

The avalanche didn't hit me until I walked into the conference room with about 8 Varsity players. What was I suppose to say? How was I suppose to act? I couldn't pretend like it was just another Sunday because this was clearly not another Sunday. I tried to walk to the back room where my JV players we at but I simply walked away. I had to sit in the lobby, try to read my article, and not cry. Cry because most of the girls are hurting. Cry because I couldn't ask how they were feeling. Cry because I wanted nothing more to hold each one of them, tell them it will all be okay, and that I love them dearly. No. Instead, I played with my highlighter while I read a TIME magazine from last September about McCain's campaign trail.

I love to comfort. But when that is taken away from me, I'm left standing alone. But I suppose that standing alone with my arms open, ready to offer a hug to anyone that will accept is better that sitting with my arms wrapped around me tightly, refusing to listen only because I wasn't immediately affected by a tragedy.