07/08/2013

   By this time of the morning, early as I recall, my wife's sister and her husband and my lifelong best friend (and Curtis's godfather) and his wife had arrived. I remember people telling me that I needed to eat something, but I remember thinking that I doubted I would ever again feel like eating or drinking anything. I didn't think I would ever care about anything else again. I knew I was still in shock, but already I could feel this horrendous empty pain in my stomach that I feared I would always have from now on. I knew that their were things that would need to be done, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to focus my mind on anything. I had not been raised to feel emotions, but what I was feeling could not be ignored. I think the fear, uncertainty and anxiety of the entire situation of the previous evening had kept my mind sharp and focused. Now that we were realizing the awful truth, my mind was turning to mush. There were so many questions. What had really happened? How exactly had our son died? Did he realize what was happening to him? Was he afraid? Did he call out for us? Had he been in a lot of pain? What was the condition of his body? When would we get to see him? These were all questions we probably should have asked the night before, but were just now bubbling to the surface. Some of the answers would come in the days ahead. For now, there were more practical matters to address. We needed to contact a mortuary.