That Day

I still cry. I know that's not unusual. It's been almost a month and I still find myself with wet eyes. I didn't expect to cry at all. I actually first heard about the incident at work. I work in a school district, at a school she used to attend, and I was talking to the teachers when I got in.

"Two former students were in a car accident today and one of them died," I was told. I thought, Gee, that sucks. It didn't cross my mind that I knew kids who went to school here, that I had had family that went to school here. It's never expected that it might be someone you knew.

But her statement got me thinking about death. I've known people who died before. My grandfathers, but they were old and had been sick for years. They'd lived their lives and everyone saw it coming. It was sad, but I knew that whatever had happened to them was better than the pain they had been living in. A boy younger than me died, too. I went to school with him. I had directed a show he was in. He was a lot of fun. Drove me absolutely crazy most of the time, but I liked him. Hit by a train. Sudden, unexpected, horrific death. And that didn't really bother me, either. He should have been paying more attention. It was a terrible tragedy, and he was the one who could have prevented it. I think I took comfort in that.

I had felt death before. And it hadn't bothered me very much. I think I cried once for each of them because I felt that I was supposed to. I didn't do it because I was so upset, or it hurt so badly. I did it out of obligation. So, I reasoned, I just didn't react to death the way other people do. Death was okay with me, I figured. Like a permanent move to Europe.

I was in shock when my aunt found me and told me the news. Really? Are you sure? That can't be. Really? She drove me home from work. I didn't know what to do with myself. Mom was with grandma and Dad was I don't even know where. The house was empty. I didn't know if I should be calling people or going somewhere or doing something. I kept roaming the house, upstairs and downstairs, from the kitchen to my bedroom to the living room and back to the kitchen again, hoping that each time I went somewhere else I would figure out how I was supposed to act.

I sat on the porch. It was sunny. The neighbor kids were out playing in their yard. I set my head on my knees and I cried. For her, for her family, for her friends, for everyone who loved her, for all those that would be completely heartbroken to not have her anymore.

And honestly, that was everyone. I cried for everyone, knowing that that was the only thing I could do.