Thinking of others on this day of thanks

It is an unfortunate fact of life that the sporting world is not always the escape we seek, doesn't always offer the solace for which we yearn.

It is occasionally just the opposite.

But in that regard it's a fair representation. It's the expense of learning more, the cost of seeing the proverbial sausage made.

That has been the case over the past month with Notre Dame football, which may have been directly involved in the deaths of not one but two young students.

The purpose of this discussion will not be for determining the culpability of the Irish football program, nor do I intend to ponder the future employment of Brian Kelly and Jack Swarbrick. That can save for another day.

Much has been said and written already as the pack searches for its meal, but rarely is the focus on the families who have suffered the worst kind of pain, one that will last nothing less than a lifetime.

On this Thanksgiving, instead of Notre Dame football I think of those two families.

Declan Sullivan, of Long Grove, was all of 20 years old when he died in October on that now infamous and horribly windy day in South Bend.

Alison and Barry Sullivan have lost a son, the paralyzing nightmare every parent fears, the one so devastating as to defy description and imagination.

All they will never get to see, and he will never get to share, will be present in their thoughts every day for now and forever.

His sister Wyn and his brother Mac will have a family meal today not knowing when they will again experience a Thanksgiving that feels normal.

They will smile and they will prop up one another, putting on a good face and putting up a good fight, fighting the good fight because there is no other choice.

Not far away in Northbrook, another family suffers the added horror of mourning publicly and searching for answers.

Only 19, Lizzy Seeberg died in September. Her parents, Mary and Tom, have learned by now that food they must eat, though it has no taste and even less meaning.

Lizzy's sister Mary Claire and her brother Mark will also wonder if someday a holiday gathering won't feel coerced, when the injury of the present will give way to fond memories of the past.

These are real families suffering genuine and lasting trauma. They are more than sports headlines that fuel a fire. They are people desperate for closure, still unsure of the outcome.

They will eventually find a conclusion, and only then will they be able to put behind them the very public part of their story, and begin the process of rebuilding their lives in deafening silence.

The media will disappear into the quiet as the story runs its course, the football program will move on, people may be fired and others may be hired.

And left in the wake will be two families that suffer today an agony so grand as to be inconceivable to anyone who hasn't witnessed it firsthand, and even still impossible to understand.

Today, they put one foot in front of the other, take one breath at a time, and ponder mysteries greater than third- down conversion.

That is whom I choose to think about now. Perhaps you'll have a moment to think of Lizzie and Declan and of their families, of how difficult it will be for them on what used to be such a fabulous day.

As always, on a day of stuffing yourself with food, football and family, think of those who are missing someone at the table, perhaps for the first time, and be grateful for what you have.

By all means, and for all it's worth and with all your heart, have a happy Thanksgiving.

And spare a happy thought for someone who may need it more than ever before.

brozner@dailyherald.com