Nick Grigsby, RIP

Nicholas Grigsby died last Sunday in a tragic car accident that occurred just minutes from his parents' house in Southern Maryland. It was his 27th birthday and Father's Day, no less. Nick was a friend of mine and my wife's coworker.

Nick's death was a stark reminder of how random and unpredictable life can be. Nick was headed to the community pier in his 2010 Camaro with his uncle to pick up crabs when he lost control and hit a tree. I simply can't imagine the sheer horror Nick's parents confronted when they got to their son.

From what I hear, the news report got things only partially right. It stated that the uncle was flown out to shock trauma while Nick was pronounced dead at the scene. But Nick apparently died in the ambulance with his mom as she held his hand. Nick was Marty and Debbie's only child.

I'd say I probably hung out with Nick about a half-dozen times a year. There were the company Christmas parties, summer get-togethers at mutual friends' houses, and Halloween parties at my brother-in-law's house. But as I've told many of Nick's closest friends and coworkers over the past week, I wasn't necessarily as close to him as they were, but every time I talked to Nick it seemed like I was. That says a lot about a person.

I was at my in-laws' house when my wife's brother -- one of Nick's best friends -- got the call you never want. Within the first 30 seconds you could tell someone had died. We all sat around the table waiting to hear who was on the other end of the phone, and who the call was about. When we found out there was instant shock and sadness. Nick was one of the kindest people you could ever meet. I don't know whether it's only that the best people die way too young or if it's just that you always notice when they do, but when my wife asks me every now and then why I'm such a prick, well, now you know.

As I walked into the funeral home for Nick's memorial service last Thursday, two conflicting thoughts ran through my mind constantly. On one hand I was relieved I didn't know Nick better than I did because I was spared the significant torment felt by his family, frat brothers, and literally dozens of friends who showed up to say goodbye. But on the other hand, I was sad because to have known him longer and more closely would have meant much more happiness in my own life. I hope Nick's loved ones at least take solace in the fact that knowing him for even a relatively short time is far better than never having known him at all. Just look at all the jerks we seem to be shackled with for decades.

I guess this is a natural segue to talking about my own son, who's almost three. I can barely think the thoughts I'm about to type much less verbalize them, so I'm going to keep this brief. It's true when they say life's too short and nothing lasts forever. As someone once wrote, even our kids are on a timer. That's a stark reality, and all you can hope is that they outlive you.

Before my son was born you could've asked me what my biggest fear was and I probably wouldn't have been able to tell you. It probably would've had something to do with being crushed to death balls first or being burned alive. But the second your first child is born you know what your biggest fear is: outliving him or her. This is quite profound given that no one wants to face his own mortality. I would assume the death of a child is every parent's greatest fear. If it's not, that person probably isn't much of a parent in the first place, so his opinion doesn't count anyway.

Not a day goes by that I don't worry about my wife getting in an accident as she's driving my son to daycare. And now we even have another one on the way. I should be bald soon.

As I was giving my son a kiss last night after he fell asleep, I was thinking about Nick's parents. I still can't wrap my head around what's happened and what they're going through. Part of me doesn't want to but another part knows that an unfortunate few are cursed with this reality, and that it could just as easily be my wife's and mine at any moment.

So while it's certainly morbid to have these thoughts, I have to believe it's normal, and all I could think last night was how lucky my wife and I are to have been given the child we were. I think too many parents don't realize that work and promotions and house payments are irrelevant in the grand scheme.

Take a vacation with your kid. And if mine ever starts listening to me, I promise to try not to yell at him too much.

I'll close with a quote Nick posted on facebook not long before he died. Truly words to live by:

"When I feel sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead. True story."

RIP, my friend. Because of what you meant to all the people whose lives you touched, your parents will get through this.

Comments

[Debbie Grigsby]

Trevor, I just read this. Thank you so much for your kind words. Debbie