“Hi Laura—this is Jane Doe calling from the school. We’re excited to have Shea enrolled for this year’s upcoming kindergarten class and calling to confirm……”
Gut punch.
“Did your number of dependents change in 2024? if so please check the correct box below“
Gut punch.
Before I knew grief—really knew it—I thought I understood the triggers. The obvious ones. A birthday. The anniversary. Christmas.
And I thought that was it. That grief was real, but predictable.
You’d see it coming.
You could brace for it.
Steel yourself.
But the reality is, the pain is hiding everywhere. In the day to day. In the nonsense of life.
It’s junk mail with his name on it.
It’s random four-year-olds playing with your daughter.
It’s your phone’s photo memories that pop up uninvited.
It’s the old car seats.
It’s spring break trips without him.
It’s the cottage you haven’t been able to go to since.
It’s his bike, still leaning on the garage wall.
It’s calls from the dentist trying to schedule his cleaning.
It’s his books.
His stroller.
Every time someone asks how many kids you have.
It’s checking the box for your ski pass: “Family size: 3.”
It’s when the elementary school calls.
It’s when you check that box on your taxes.
Deceased.
Shea Thomas Callanan, our boy, passed away on October 12th unexpectedly. His epilepsy did not define his life, nor will it define his memory. If you feel inclined, please support Shea’s Play Fund which will be used to make play more accessible wherever it is needed most.