Of Greek Proportions

Right when my Dad was undergoing surgery that would make him healthy again, there was a Hurricane going through New Orleans. I only really knew one family that was directly affected by the storm. They got back to their house a couple weeks after the Hurricane. They were 'lucky.'

At the maximum flooding, their house only had 5 feet of water in it on the ground floor. They were able to salvage some clothes and personal possessions from the upper level. The house was a complete loss. But they still owed on the mortgage, so they were planning on rebuilding. I'm not sure if that was a way to regain a sense of control over Mother Nature, or a purely financial decision.

The Husband's job was working for Social Services in New Orleans. Her job was teaching at a school. Since she was on contract, they at least have her income to rely on. Regardless, they have to be in rough financial times.

They were already considering moving to Tampa Bay, to be nearer their older son and his family. So they picked up their youngest son, 24, and moved into an apartment in Tampa.

She was interviewing for a job at a local school. Things were settling down. Even through the worst part of their endeavor, they were more happy that Dad's surgery was going well than anything else. The important thing is that they were moving toward normalcy. The family was together, times would be getting easier, happier.

Then last week, the youngest slept in late. When they went to get him, he was dead. He choked on his own vomit while he was sleeping.

Most of the time, you try to find some kind of moral to a story. Some kind of way to wrap things up. But I can't find any other way to describe this story but tragedy.