Pause

As the media is hyped with the death of Natasha Richardson, I'm sitting her on a gray New York day thinking of the fragility of life and her two sons.

I can't remember their ages exactly, but I read they are early teens/tweens and now their mother is gone. When I'm 45, Alexandra will be 12 and this baby inside me will be almost 10. I can't fathom leaving them then--or ever. I'm sure in Ms. Richardson's last moments of wakefulness, this thought must of crushed her. As much as I love Adam, I think I can grasp losing him or leaving him. I believe that comes from having had a perpetually ill father my whole life; we were always preparing for his death, from the time I was in elementary school until he died when I was 22. But the whole idea of leaving behind your children is just earth shattering to me.

I know that those two boys/young men are mere miles from me right now. They will wake this morning to an apartment full of more creature comforts than most kids will ever have and their father, but today will be the first full day they no longer have their mom. And--as a mom--that literally breaks my heart.