Death doesn’t schedule time on your calendar, and it doesn’t always give advance notice. Sometimes, as it did with our oldest child, it breaks into your world unexpectedly, mercilessly, snatching your attention away from whatever you had thought was important in that moment.
Right now, as I write this, I feel like I’m back in our backyard that day, falling to my hands and knees as Jonathan lies on his back, pale and unmoving. I hear the sirens approaching, see the medics surround him, gasp with relief when they restart his heart.‘How many children do you have?’ My son is gone, but I want the chance to talk about him.
But grief, too, grows impatient for our attention. For me, it is like a wolf in a cave, never entirely silent. I hear it breathing. I sense its weight. I fear its teeth and claws, and I dread the moment it will strike. And when it does, I’m carried back into my worst memories and pain. My chest tightens. It feels like I’m terrified that what has already happened will occur again, as though Jonathan is still in danger. I’m never free, and when I’m not in terrible pain, I feel like I ought to be.
usatodayopinion Was able to find the family’s GoFundMe if anyone is interested in donating!
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