She would have been 20 today.

On chasing fireflies

Fireflies live only a couple of weeks as adults. They flash their lights to attract the attention of mates, for us to gaze at them in wonder, and for children to catch them in their hands.

Anna would have been 20 today. Born at 3:45 a.m., she was a tiny bundle of joy and hope. She loved all creatures, and one evening shortly after her grandfather McCool’s funeral, she leapt around in his backyard, gleefully chasing fireflies.

Her dad and I later commented about how that evening in 2008 was one of the happiest we had seen her. She was 7, and in her second year of struggling with a lack of interest in eating from a form of anorexia that seemed to take hold two years earlier, shortly after her sister was born. Things had already been really hard in our lives; then, Grandpa died unexpectedly. And here she was, enthralled by fireflies. This moment is how we had dreamed our child would be, always.

As I’ve mourned her 2018 death, I’m like most parents who have lost children — spending a lot of time wondering how I could have been a better mom, and occasionally ruminating over my failures. In the times she was a happy child, I didn’t appreciate those moments as much as I could have. The time she caught a fish and had the biggest look of delight on her face, or her excitement after landing her first flute solo. Her tender looks when playing with kittens at the local animal shelter. Her exuberance after catching a glimpse of a certain bird while on a birding field trip.

Often, I was too focused on the difficult times. When she attempted suicide a year before her eventual completion of the act, I reacted poorly to a phone call I received, urging me rush to the hospital. Anna required lots of attention, always, and I was one of “those parents” who didn’t realize this was a true attempt and that it was, indeed serious. Then, a few days before she died, I reacted poorly to her frantic call about our pet bird. Her dad, sister and I were in Indianapolis celebrating her sister’s first-place ribbon for a 4-H project, and Anna hadn’t wanted to go. We decided she was stable enough to leave home alone, but soon after we arrived, she phoned me, upset with belief that our 23-year-old cockatiel was ill. She wanted to take him to the vet immediately and called upon our neighbor to drive her there.

I was salty. The three of us had simply wanted to enjoy a breath of fresh air for the day. Why, oh why, did she choose THIS DAY, when we were two hours away, to suddenly lavish attention on our pet she had mostly ignored for years?

After her death a few days later, I realized she was saying her last goodbye to him.

This morning the New York Times ran a piece about the surge of student suicides in Las Vegas, prompting the reopening of schools. It’s too early to solidify that pandemic lockdowns are directly linked teen suicides, but certainly, we can’t rule it out. There may be many more parents in my situation than ever before.

Please don’t take the joyful moments for granted. If you’ve been struggling with a child who has depression, anxiety, or other mental health issues, please take a moment today to think about at least one instance where your child has exhibited pure, wonderful joy.

Our children’s lives shouldn’t be fleeting, like that of a firefly. But we never know what can happen, and tragedy can strike in one instant.

I wish I had taken or printed a photo of Anna’s exuberant firefly chasing evening, but I can share one of her moments of happiness. This is one of Anna’s favorite costumes. She wanted to be an Olympic swimmer for Halloween. Because October 31 in northern Indiana is not conducive to wearing only a swimsuit, I created this simple faux Olympic warmup outfit for her, and she loved it.

Anna would have been 20 today. I wish we all could have experienced what she could have become. Happy birthday, sweet and precious girl. I pray there are fireflies in Heaven.