Seriously?

Last night was Open House. I love having the children share what they've learned with their families! Everyone seems happy and proud. When it was over, Chana and I were walking out, tired, yet pleased with the turnout and the supportive comments and compliments received.  "See you in the morning at coffee!" we said simultaneously.
And then, in the dark and the rain, with a smile on my face, I walked out toward my car, promptly kicked the door stop (that we had asked to be moved months ago!), and down I went! I cried just like the Kindergartners do when they "fall down, go boom!" because it flipping hurts, not to mention humiliates and humbles oneself! My ankle was injured, I scraped both knees, landed on my left arm, hit my chin on my hand, and bounced.
"Really, I thought? What message is this?" I know you speak to me in a whisper sometimes and if I don't hear, you get louder. Most of the time the messages seem bent on making me aware of little things I could do better or safer or not at all, but this? I couldn't see the reasoning behind it. Four days before our first vacation in forever? Did you not want me to go to Baja?
The next morning, I ended up going to the school's required medical office that turned out to be the same one I had taken you to for your headaches. They were always so kind and empathetic.
When I signed in, the receptionist said "We haven't seen you in awhile. Kenna's headaches must be getting better!"
"Yes." I nodded, because I couldn't breath, let alone explain. When the doctor saw me, she inquired about you, so I told her. She was very quiet and, of course, sad. Sad for me, sad for us, but mostly sad for the loss of someone so special, which is the true story. Somehow, no matter where you went, whatever the circumstances, how little or how much time you spent with people, they connected with you. It was a gift that keeps on giving because when I went to sign out, the nurses and receptionists, who now knew, told me how sorry they were and how sad they felt, and as we all stood there trying not to cry, the happy "Muzak" tune stopped playing and what should begin but "Tears in Heaven". We all, without knowing the other was doing it, looked up and I exclaimed out loud, "Really, Kenna, this song, on this day, at this moment? Really?" When I looked around, there was not a dry eye in the waiting room, so I went outside and lost it. Lost it to the point of the ugly cry. Completely lost it. When I managed to get in the car to go back to school, the first thing the DJ said was that it was Eric Clapton's birthday, which I had completely overlooked apparently, but was vividly reminded, and then he played the best song ever written, my favorite, Layla. Really, Kenna?
Happy Birthday, Eric. Seriously.

Kenton and I saw this live, March 2007!