Ten Years Ago

That early morning ten years ago remains the darkest moment of my life. At 2:45am, the phone rang. Peter answered it. “It's your dad. Alice has been in a car accident,” he relayed. “And died.”

I shot up from bed. My chest went numb, as if to protect my insides from my shattering heart. I wanted to jump out of the window, to join her, but we lived in a second floor apartment.  I couldn't handle myself, I didn't know what to do. After talking to my mom, I called my therapist at 4 in the morning. I told her I wanted to jump out of the window. She said don't jump. I said I wanted to go outside. She said that doesn't sound like a good idea, it's very late. She suggested I drink some herbal tea. We scheduled a 7:00AM appointment. At the end of that sessions, she said I could expect the next several weeks to be "bumpy." I'd never heard more prescient words.

I recount these details because I don't want to forget that I've survived the greatest pain.