Clara Harper

Today’s blog is going to be a little different.

In life, we often rush through the busy moments, pushing for the next big thing, the next milestone, the next “great achievement.” But sometimes, it takes a heart-wrenching event to remind us of what really matters. I want to pause my normal blog posts and book slinging, to share the words of a close friend’s friend, whose family is experiencing unimaginable grief after the sudden loss of their son. Her story serves as a profound reminder of the beauty and fragility of life, the quiet moments that often carry the most meaning, and the power of showing up—even when life feels overwhelming.

A Mother’s Reflection on Loss and Life’s Precious Moments

My friend’s son died yesterday. He was 18 years old and most would say that he was just starting his life. He was kind and deeply spiritual. He was the youngest of a whole bunch of kids and clever and mature in the way only the youngest child in any family, but particularly one in a large family, knows how to be. He had a girlfriend he was determined to marry after college and a steady job to earn the extra money that’s hard to come by in a large family. And yesterday, on a beautiful sunny summer day he went for a swim and didn’t come back. He was 18 years old. It is truly beyond belief for me. Yesterday he died while swimming in a lake that I was also swimming in with my children. We were a few miles south but we saw the rescue workers. We just didn’t know that they were looking for my friend’s son. While his mother was kissing his cheek for the last time and saying goodbye to her son, I was kissing mine and tucking them into bed after a fun day in the sun and water. I would like to say mine were clean and sweet smelling but let’s be honest. I am here at the lake with small children trying to get a bit of summer and a tiny rest and their dad is at home working. These children were put to bed smelling like the lake and the sunshine. But. I did get to kiss my living children goodnight. We never know what the next moment brings.

So many people say some version of “Seize the day!” or “What will you do with your one precious life?” and the pressure to do something big or important or make magical memories by doing amazing trips is crushing. Especially to those of us who are working for money as well as raising children. How on earth do we make a magic summer for our children when we can’t even make a decent dinner or fold the seven hundred baskets of laundry?

We don’t. Magic is overrated. Our kids need US, not a curated version of life. Our real selves who show up tired and maybe slightly grumpy but we show up. We do the thing and admire the kid’s results and tell them well done.

Today, the day after my friend’s son died in the lake we are still visiting, we got dressed in our swimsuits, packed some snacks, and went to the lake. Yes, I watched my kids like a crazed hawk. They swam (life jackets though) and built castles. They ate snacks with sandy hands and peed in the lake. They yelled and jumped down hills and poked dead fish. They found driftwood and tried to surf with it. They pet strangers’ dogs and layed on the blanket in the sun. I answered texts and phone calls of friends crying and in disbelief about what happened. I was with them and provided the backdrop. They created memories. Maybe that makes me kind of crappy as a mom. Maybe I should have been in the water with them or building castles with them. Especially after yesterday. I don’t think so though.

When we came back to our rental house and everyone was supposed to be taking a nap, my youngest kiddo couldn’t sleep. He found me outside where I was (grief) eating snacks in the shade. He talked at me and told me jokes and held my hand with his sweet chubby one. He ran in the flower fields and brought me beautiful wild flowers and pulled me into the fields with him. He found acorn caps and collected a handful for me because he said they’re my favorites. He gave me his special bird feather that he found a few minutes before that and a piece of a soft green leaf that he said would be helpful for potions.

These weren’t grand plans with fancy destinations and big wow factor events. Just tiny snippets of joy found in the small and regular bits of a life that we still have. A life that is precious.

My friend’s son died yesterday and there will be a standing room only funeral next week. He was 18 years old. He lived a full and happy life, loved by a big family and many friends. Today I loved my children. Tonight, God willing, I will tuck them into bed (maybe after a bath but probably not) and I will again kiss their cheeks. Tomorrow, I will try again to show up and tell them well done. I will admire their treasures and kiss their cheeks. It isn’t fancy or grand but it’s real and that’s magic enough.

A Final Thought from Clara

As we reflect on the powerful message shared by my friend, it’s a reminder that life is so much more than our daily hustle. It’s about presence, love, and the quiet moments that can pass us by if we aren’t careful. To my dear friend, thank you for sharing this deeply personal story. I hope, dear readers, that, as you read it, you too are reminded of the beauty found in showing up—imperfect and tired, but always loving.

Let us all take a moment to appreciate the small, seemingly mundane moments in life because, as my friend so beautifully put it, those are often where the real magic is.

To the family of the young man lost too soon, Baruch Dyan Ha’Emet (ברוך דיין האמת).