Part of the human condition is the reality of our own mortality.
With that acceptance we have a certain expectation that the cycle of mortality has a normal progression.
Children grow up and if they become parents they will be outlived by their own children.
It doesn’t always go that way and when it hits you or someone you know it’s haunting.
This week ESPN Senior College Football Writer Ivan Maisel and his family received the confirmation that their son Max had indeed drowned in the waters of Lake Ontario when his body was recovered. Max had gone missing several weeks ago in the coldest days of a bitter winter.
I first got to know the name Ivan Maisel when he was one of the ESPN reporters who would appear in the fast-paced Halftime Blitz — a quick wrap up of the national college football scene on the Thursday Night ESPN game telecast. During my days in the coaching profession I got to know him. Maisel’s job brought him to Penn State from time to time.
On those occasions when he needed some of my time we would often end up at Rotelli restuarant discussing the story he was there to cover. After he’d gotten what he needed we talked about college football trends or sports news or current events or the politics of the day. We would talk about the history of college football — a game we both love. Most times I left while he sat downstairs using Rotelli’s wi-fi to work on his story.
I have tremendous respect for the fairness with which Ivan always does his job — his ethics in pursuing the facts of a story — facts that he was unafraid to report even when opinions ran counter to his factual narrative.
He was someone I also got to know away from the working relationship.
In January of 2010 at the national championship football game between Alabama and Texas at the Rose Bowl, a friend named Mike Hughes and I were invited by Ivan to experience (and I mean experience) a tailgate with fans from his native Alabama.
There was Ivan’s brother Elliot but so much more. The tailgate included an Elvis look-alike, a man in a furry crimson pimp coat and a vintage Alabama gentleman who shall remain nameless but who loved his Bourbon almost as much as he loved the Crimson Tide. When my brother traveled to Tuscaloosa to see Penn State play Alabama he was hosted by many of the same people at a tailgate with the same cast of characters.
But more difficult days were ahead.
After my father died Ivan was one of the few people I trusted to see what I was truly dealing with. There was a story to write and he was one of the few people I allowed to see what there was to be told.
When I first learned that Ivan’s son Max was missing, I thought about how difficult it had to be for his family. I had not met Max but there are things that are universal to all parents.
There must be no greater pain than to lose a child; the potential, the promise of tomorrow, years of smiles and laughter and the milestones of life’s still unwritten poetry that will never be etched across the hearts of that child’s parents.
But I guess ultimately it is the faith we live and the hope we cling to that enables people to endure loss like this. Regardless of how we choose to practice our faith, there is always the question of why — a question that far more often than not can never truly be answered.
In the end it is in the lives we live, the character that we carry and the integrity in our souls that enable us to leave the world a better place. Whether it is for a short time, as was the case for Max, or for longer times, there are smiles that come to those who best remember the ones they’ve lost.
Ultimately those are the moments that I hope Ivan and his family will hold onto in the days and years ahead. Now that they have the final closure I hope that someone I respect, and more importantly consider a friend, will find his faith and hope — creating a path to climb up from the pain he must be feeling.
Above all I hope he and his family, and the families of all parents who lose a child, can find peace in the thoughts, prayers and support of people who are with them. As much as mortality is part of our humanity, unity in the face of tragedy is part of what makes us human.
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