The Luckiest.

And just like that.

He's done. Caught in the tides of time.

We walked him to the bus for one last trip. Andy and I got in our car and drove in silence for a few minutes.

I finally said, "Well. How do you feel?"

He said, "When I'm watching him, I just can't believe it. He got a whole Senior season...for the first time since he was in 3rd grade, his season was not interrupted or ended by an injury or surgery. He was playing so good. He was using some new leadership muscles. He fought so hard to get here. I just can't believe him."

He turned to me, "And how do you feel?"

"I'm constantly looking for the right words for everything. And when I think about raising Quincy, the only thing I can think of is...lucky. We were so lucky to be his parents."

And cue a Mom and a Dad letting the tears just flow in a dark car driving down I-5.

I said, "I wish I could bottle this feeling up and take it to the new parents. The ones who are handed a baby to which the answer to the "healthy baby prayer" is a resounding "no."

I wish I could tell them.

You are gonna weep. And you are gonna scream. And you are gonna pray and plead and fight and love and dig deeper than you knew possible. You are going to endure a pain that seems impossible.

And one day, you are going to be looking at your 18-year-old son and the literal only feeling you can identify is..."We are so lucky. So lucky to be his parents."

I mean it with every ounce of my being.

The luckiest.

We will just never get over him.