Let me start (somewhat incongruously, I know, but due gratitude must not go unremarked) by thanking my cell phone service provider for their awesome rates. At just 0.09 euros per minute, I can afford to have meaningful, even leisurely conversations with the folks back home in Vancouver, ten time zones away. Thank you, Globetel!

. . .

. . . Yeah. So I called home last night, which was Tuesday. My mom answered the phone. We exchanged the usual bits of personal and family news. Nothing really major, just the small-yet-important details of the latest quotidien goings-on in our respective lives. There was one thing I absolutely had to ask about, though: a rumour, received on Sunday through an abortive IM convo with my grandfather (I'd been logged in to Skype, but away from the computer at the time). Something shocking had happened in Spokane, was all I knew. From a quick search of local news, which revealed 70 traffic accidents due to a weekend snowstorm, I figured it was most likely a car crash involving someone we knew. I have many relatives and acquaintances in that area. Until I could ask someone what had happened, all I could do was pray that this wasn't the case.

Well, it wasn't. The reality was a far more unexpected tragedy.

The victim was a 12-year-old boy whose parents I know from when they lived in Vancouver when I was a child. (The mother is my dad's sister's husband's sister.) He was playing outside at a relative's place with several other kids, including his 14-year-old brother. Their activity of choice was archery, not an unusual one for the area. For whatever reason, they were without adult supervision. In the course of their shooting practice, the older brother accidentally fired an arrow which pierced through the boy's shoulder. One of the kids -- they were obviously all in a panic -- pulled the arrow out. This led to a catastrophic loss of blood, which was not able to be stopped in time to save the boy. He died as a result.

The reason I am writing this is not to moralize about kids having access to hunting weapons or parents not watching their kids. Anyone who's grown up outside the city knows how normal these things are in the rural culture. Playing the blame game is not only not going to bring the kid back, but it's also not going to help the people close to this tragedy work through their pain of guilt and grief. Needless to say, this blog entry has nothing to do with exploiting shock value or revelling in gory details, either. No. My reason for writing this is twofold. First, to work through some of my own sorrow by sharing it; and second, because I think even awful events like this can be a catalyst for understanding.

This is about the most painful thing that can suddenly happen to a family. My mom said the boy's father is especially hard hit by the loss. I remember him as a particularly sensitive, caring soul with a great sense of humour, and my heart goes out to him and his wife. Although I never met most of their children, I can imagine the turmoil they, too, must be going through. -- Even now, writing these lines, I weep for them.

We are mortal. Such truths have a place in the back of our minds -- they are often too difficult to contemplate directly. But when tragedy comes upon us, touching those whom we love, there is nothing to do but face it. Such is the pain of our reality: that we must all one day say goodbye. It is not given to us who live to know what lies beyond the veil of time, though we so often tread but a heartbeat away. All we can do is to hope that, someday, beyond time and space, we shall meet again, as though simply returning from a long and arduous voyage to the welcoming shores of home.

Rest in peace, Alex. I take comfort in knowing that you no longer suffer. Your family and loved ones are in my thoughts and prayers. Namasté.

<o> <o>