Someone told me via Facebook that they were thinking about me today. My first thought was, did I miss it? Do they know and I don’t? I just googled my brother’s obituary from 1998 because I thought I missed it.
The day is burned into my mind, my dad telling me in the living room right after I woke up, while his sisters and mother stared at me.
Our pastor’s wife going shopping for my mom because of course she couldn’t do a mundane thing like a trip to Wal Mart because we had just experienced a sudden and tragic accident, but I still had to have black tights for the funeral.
“In increments both measurable and not, our childhood is stolen from us — not always in one momentous event but often in a series of small robberies, which add up to the same loss.”
There seemed to be no way I could ever forget, but I’m 21 now, not 8. And I almost forgot.
It’s tomorrow. There’s no reason for you to know these things, but I’m deluded into thinking that it helps.
