Samuel William Gleue (5/19/93 - 1/24/13)

I am grieved by the passing of a young friend of the family.  Samuel William Gleue passed away suddenly from an accident and left behind heartbroken parents, two older and two younger siblings, a large extended family, and many friends.  Words could not do justice to the emotional toll we all felt at his memorial service:  we absorbed the minister’s words with mute anguish and stifled sobs.

Sam was one of my son’s best buddies in elementary school.  They chased each other around the house, yard, and neighborhood as only 8-year-old boys can.  I remember him as the quintessential towhead freckle-faced “Dennis the Menace.”   Sam was a fearless bundle of energy that bolted off in any direction at the slightest suggestion.

It’s with strong recollections of those happy childhood years and sensitivity for the raw void that Sam’s departure has created that I offer these thoughts on a parent’s love for a child.

We want the best for our kids, but we want them to do the best they can as well.  We guide, nurture, coach, and instruct and in return expect them to give it their best shot.  If they don’t even try, it doesn’t alter the depth of our love, but it may alter our attitude.  I’d be disappointed if no attempt had been made at all.  Having removed the opportunity to participate, the child remains in limbo and unable to grow from the experience of either success, failure, or draw.  It’s understood that a child needs to find his own way, experience her own setbacks, and learn his own lessons – sometimes the toughest part of our job as parents is to push them onto the field and stand back as spectators.

A parent sees in a child, especially of the same gender, all that he or she might have been.  There is potential to do the things that have not been achieved, to complete the work that has been started, to live the dreams yet to be fulfilled, and to avoid the pains that have been suffered.  But a parent should know it cannot be so.  The child has her own path to follow, his own potential to realize, her own dreams to dream, and his own pains to endure.  Just sharing in them should be reward enough.  Shared experience strengthens our love.  Living together, working together, solving problems, playing games, traveling, helping each other, and simply being together brings us closer together and enriches each experience.

Like my own son, Sam graduated from high school just about 18 months ago.  Like at our celebration, his family had probably compiled a photo montage to chronicle his growth from childhood when things could be fixed with simply a hug to young adulthood when troubles had become exponentially more complicated yet the opportunities seemed limitless.  I suspect that his parents were equally proud of his many accomplishments and while worried about the uncertainties of the future were cheered by happy memories of fun times they’d had together.  As they anticipated a growing and natural separation and independence they would have counted on there being many wonderful times yet ahead to share.

As is true of any loving parents, it would have been hard for them to step back and allow him the freedom and space to discover his own way, to learn his own tough lessons, to suffer his private pains, and to celebrate his individual victories.  But step back we must as we relinquish control and in turn trust in their accumulated wisdom, the good in others, and the alignment of the stars to keep them safe.

Now that fearless bundle of energy has been extinguished and his path remains untrodden, his potential remains unknown, and his joys remain only in the shared memories of those he touched.  A shooting star has passed through our constellation, caught our imagination for a brief time, and left a warm afterglow to balance the chill of his winter departure.

Rest in peace Sam.