Owen wore the #4 when he played for the Cubbies in 2013. That’s the year that we became life-long friends with the Haas family–Scott, Hadley, Declan, and Bennett. Scott served as coach for the Cubbies, and Bennett and Owen were classmates and teammates. After Owen passed away, the Haas family made certain that Owen would be celebrated. Everything from hosting bake sales to support Owen’s memorial fund, to commissioning commemorative patches with Owen’s name on little league jerseys, to organing the best wiffleball classic on the planet every Labor Day to honor our boy–the Haas’ have been there for it all. We have grieved together. This past week provided me with a poignant reminder of how powerful that shared experience continues to be.

A little context: last year would have been Owen’s freshman year of high school. Several of his Cubbie teammates (including both of the Haas boys) were still playing baseball together as part of the high school team, and Scott and Hadley had become very active with the Baseball boosters program. As a tribute to their friend (and with support from the Haas family), the baseball team–led by the amazing Coach Dean Owrey–“retired” Owen’s number for the four years he would have been in high school. Obviously, we were floored by this gesture and so incredibly grateful that our son would be celebrated this way.

Last week, the team hosted the annual game to honor Owen. Some of the highlights follow:

Before the game Coach Owrey met Olivia and me at home plate for a photo with Owen’s #4 jersey, and then presented us with a baseball signed by the QV team, which was displayed in a beautiful wooden case.

Each of the teams lined the field as Bennett Haas bravely and solemnly read a beautiful passage about Owen.

The text from the passage was included in the game program.

I’ve spent the last several days trying to decide what to write here. It has been unusually difficult. Here’s what I can say: grief is tough. Period. And, there are a few things that I’ve learned about grief over the past seven and 1/2 years. One of those things relates to leaning in: the weight of grief is more manageable when it is shared. I cannot adequately capture how grateful we are to have the Haas family in our lives. They continue to lean in and share in the grieving process.

And, to the Quaker Valley Baseball community: thank you for continuing to honor the memory of our boy.