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It's too cruel.

Too, too cruel.

Sometimes life is hard.

Too, too hard.

Unimaginably, unbearably hard.

When I heard that Reno Mahe's 3-year-old daughter, Elsie, suffered a tragic accident, an accident where a window blind cord was tangled around her neck and led to her hospitalization and eventually to her death, it was a punch to the head and to the gut and to the heart. You felt the punch, too. We all did.

I never met Elsie. It's likely you didn't, either. But we knew her.

We knew her by way of our own little ones, the little ones of family members or friends.

Who doesn't love little kids? That's about as sweet and innocent and trusting and wonderful as humans come. They melt your heart and — beyond so many other terrific parts of the human experience and the negative ones, as well — make you feel like the world is all right.

Raising five daughters of my own helped me get to know Reno's little treasure. I love every one of them now that they are grown and I loved them back then, at that stage when everything's new, everything's a new adventure. I have a granddaughter who is 3, and one who is 2.

Just like Elsie, they are God's best creations.

They love to play. They giggle easily. They hug warmly. They skip down hallways singing silly songs and doing silly dances. They look at you with wonder in their eyes. They accept your offers to answer questions and give help. They let you wipe their tears away. They say words in a way that nobody else does. They make up their own words. They tell the truth. They have no guile, no malice. They refresh your faith in the human condition.

That explains the extreme pain in the Mahes' hearts, and the hurt in my heart and yours.

Babies should never die before parents. It's out of order. It's chronologically incorrect. And, yet, it does happen. And when it does, there's nothing to do but mourn.

And cry.

I've known Reno Mahe for years, not overly well, but well enough to laugh when he laughs, and now weep when he weeps.

He was a great prep football player at Brighton High School, a great player at BYU, a player gifted enough to take his talents to the NFL. He was smart enough and had a big enough personality to spend some time doing various radio work in the Salt Lake City market. And, this season, under first-year head coach Kalani Sitake, he mentored the position group at BYU that may have been the best of any on that team — the running backs. He's married, has a beautiful wife and family, a beautiful life.

That beautiful life took a major hit in recent days, ruptured his heart and soul. What's more difficult than closing a casket over a precious baby?

Nothing.

I have Reno's cell number and wanted to call him. Instead, out of respect, I went through BYU's communications folks, and they told me the family, for the time being, is keeping to itself. I get it. We all get it. We all send up prayers or positive vibes to whatever power in the universe we believe in, whatever good we have faith in.

Whatever the Mahes do to work their way through this brutal hardship, we support them. BYU fans, Utah fans, Utah State fans, fans of any school and of any kind, fans of no school.

We wish for you and your family, Reno, the strength to make your way through these difficult, dark days. May you be made more buoyant via your own faith, and the knowledge that people really do care about you and your family. People near and close, people far and wide, people who know you, people who know Elsie, people who only know you through football and her through the commonality of shared time with beautiful little girls.

God bless you and yours.

God bless the little ones.

God bless Elsie.

May she rest in peace.

GORDON MONSON hosts "The Big Show" with Spence Checketts weekdays from 3-7 p.m. on the Zone Sports Network, 97.5 FM and 1280 AM. Twitter: @GordonMonson.