12/19/2013

     My first reaction was to run-just run away and keep running. Run as far and as fast as I could for as long as I could. Run until I found a place where what I just heard would not be true. Run myself into oblivion. I didn't care about anything or anyone else. I had to find a place where children don't die before their parents. A place where parents get to finish the job they were given-get to finish raising their children to adulthood. These feelings only lasted until the police dropped us off at our neighbor's house after we'd been told the terrible news. When I looked into the stricken faces of my son and daughter, and saw how my wife had seemed to age years in the last few minutes, I realized that I was not the only one impacted by what had just happened. Even the looks on our neighbor's faces hinted at how far-reaching our son's death would become. On that first night I wasn't sure how it would happen, but I knew I needed to find a way through this breaking storm. Fortunately, the body has a way of going into a state of functioning shock-a kind of auto-pilot system when confronted with something as unthinkable as the death of a child. In this state I was able to adequately function and help my wife take care of business and make decisions I never expected to have to make, but decisions that now were so vitally important. The problem was that such a state, which helps us function at a time when normally we would be unable to do so, doesn't last forever. I thought I was doing quite well handling this new situation, but when the shock began to wear off, to be replaced by a gradual dawning of true realization, I knew as a man, a father  and a husband I was ill-equipped to deal with the truth.