CHAPTER 15, PART 1

I was out walking my dog Bandit, a lively Jack Russell Terrier, the dew fresh on the grass and the sun rising in the sky. In the distance a siren sounded and my chest tightened and I drew in my breath. Even now as I write, a faint layer of tears fills my eyes as I type. I have heard many ambulances since my son’s death and although it should not be a trigger for me as I did not hear the ambulance that came for my son, I still know that an ambulance was called to the scene of his death.

However, the anxiety I felt on my walk was because my younger son spent the night at a friend’s house to go to Orlando that morning. I assured myself, logically, that the ambulance could not be for my son and his friends as they were due to leave at 9:30 a.m., but then fear took over and I wondered, What if they were to be there at 9:30? Once again, I called logic into play and realized that they still had an hour before they had to leave, yet as I write, I am filled with disquietude.

CHAPTER 15, PART 2

Most of the time, I do not live in fear or anxiety, but something will trigger it, such as this morning, and then I must devote time to dispelling it, or at least acknowledging that fear remains with me. I wrote earlier about the dread-filled car drive home when I knew someone must be dead, but I blew through my children’s names as possibilities because this was too painful to contemplate. I can no longer ignore that the unthinkable does happen.

Because when what we dared not imagine has become reality, any moment in time is apt to spring upon us and uproot our sense of safety for our children. When my daughter complained of abdominal pain, my thoughts immediately flashed to the worst-case scenario. When my son had to ride to his bus stop on the back of my husband’s motorcycle, every morning began with fear. It’s not that you’re looking for the worst, but after the worst has happened, it has now entered the realm of possibility. I do not dwell on the bad, but I feel as though I were an innocent before Logan’s death.

CHAPTER 15, PART 3

Often I have heard people say that a parent out-living the child is not natural, but we make this judgment in a society which has advanced medical technology, little civil unrest on a widespread scale, and a relatively stable society. However, if we look at the lessons nature has to offer, often only a small percentage of offspring survive, or else we might be overrun with animals with no natural predators. Nature does not promise us that we will outlive our progeny; in fact, it has indicated quite the opposite. This philosophy does not ameliorate our grief, but perhaps makes the question of WHY a little more understandable.

Although I know that the crisis of a child’s death occurs frequently and to others, and I must come to terms with the remnants of fear caused by my son’s death, this does not comfort me. It makes me sad for every other person who must endure this heartbreak because with the heartbreak comes the loneliness.

CHAPTER 15, part 4

ACTIVITY