Yes, yes it was awful for my parents. They say that the worst pain in the world is to lose a child. Decades ago, a drunk driver murdered my parent’s only son. He was a healthy, well-adjusted 19 year old, about to start a grand new adventure and he was killed.
What I remember most about those days and weeks was how distraught my mom and dad were;
people asking me: how are your parents?
and the terrible silence in the house.
(In fact I wasn’t sure they wanted to go on living; what would happen to me then? I wondered)
But God Damn it! He was my big brother! I was 16 years old and Tommy was my best friend. He had been my only friend in the world and the one person I could trust in our house.
I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be him!
Six months later my father died.
I was still sixteen. In some ways, I still am.
No comments:
Post a Comment