Baseball, My Boy & Boston
I sit here with a heavy heart. Where I just shed tears thinking about my vacation. In more ways than being away.
My family and I visited Boston to celebrate my little 3 year old and his name, Boston this past week.
It was such a wonderful trip. One that I wish I could bottle up every second of excitement I saw in his little eyes. He had so much fun. From the beginning of the trip, on the airplane to Boston last Tuesday till the moment he went to bed last night.
We hit up Boston on Tuesday, Wednesday and left for Cape Cod to visit my husbands family on Thursday morning.
It was a wonderful family trip. Cape Cod was ok...but Boston was unforgettable.
I don't know if it was everytime I saw 'I LOVE BOSTON' on a T-shirt, magnet, etc - I bought it. Or if it was just because I love the atmosphere in that town.
Or even better. I had the undivided attention of my little family. They were alllll mine.
On Thursday, my husband told me about a story that abruptly halted my warm and fuzzy from the Boston Red Sox game.
The story from the Rangers Game.
A man, baseball fan, proud father - left his house with his 6 year old son to take part in a father's dream. Taking their son to a baseball game. A place where fathers' & sons' share 9 innings of an American pasttime.
The father leaned over the rail to catch a foul ball to give his son. And the unthinkable happened. He fell 20 feet over the railings and died.
According to reports, he was conscious when paramedics got to him and asked them to check on his 6 year old son who was in the stands alone.
I can't help but tear up thinking about that.
My husband is a die hard sports fan. So I knew it coming into the relationship.
But the thought of losing him....to a baseball game....tears my heart out.
What destroys my heart...is the life that family has to live from here on out. That little 6 year old boy will forever remember that day. And his wife will forever have to carry on his memory.
Makes me want to hug my little guy and my big guy even harder.