Four years ago, I was sitting at my kitchen table wondering how I was ever going to sleep again and more importantly, what now? How do you plan for the funeral of your child? Where do you even begin?
So I drank a lot of the very fine bourbon that a friend had smuggled into the ICU of Akron General earlier in the day where I was keeping vigil. We both had assumed I would be spending long days there while Max recovered from his very extensive injuries and the bourbon was a gift to help ease the nights there.
We were so very wrong about that.
The next time I saw him he was unconscious and trapped in the twisted metal of his car.
After the quiz, I went outside to cry, which smudged my makeup. I subsequently spent a considerable amount of time trying to convince myself to go back into the classroom for the lecture and lab that followed. (Eventually I did.)
While I was outside, squatting against a brick wall and sobbing quietly, a small bird flew so close to me that I could feel it in my hair. It felt to me like the bird was acknowledging my pain. Or maybe not. Perhaps it was just a weird bird acting erratically.
Nevertheless, I like my version better.
Next year, we need a better plan. This was the first time in four years that I actually had to be somewhere on the anniversary, and I guess I didn't really understand how woefully unprepared I was for it.