Even with all the positive love and energy being radiated to us, I'm still not sure how I got through that evening. My wife and I stood near our son's casket as people began to file past to pay their respects and leave us a bit of the love they were carrying. After several minutes someone brought us chairs, but I found it harder to keep getting up and down than to just stay standing. I didn't feel it would be appropriate to stand and greet some people and not others. This was a Wednesday evening in the middle of February. I'm sure it had not been easy for some people to make it out to the visitation service, and I didn't want anyone to feel that we didn't appreciate their presence. As the evening wore on, we were told that the line of mourners stretched out the door of the chapel, down the sidewalk and around the corner. All I knew was that we ended up greeting people for about three hours.
I don't remember very many details from that evening. Over the years, several times I've met people who tell me that they were there that night and talk about what they experienced from their point of view. They often comment on how strong we seemed and that they didn't think they'd be able to handle a situation like that. Again, I didn't feel strong. I almost felt like an actor on a stage just playing a role. In the midst of greeting so many people for so long, this all still did not seem real to me. In my mind I certainly knew the horrible truth that had brought all these people to us, but emotionally, I still had not had time to grasp the brutal reality. It still seemed to me that when this evening was over Curtis would be going back home with us where he belonged-the only place where he belonged.
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