die?”
Elizabeth nods. “But hopefully not for a very long time.”
At eight, it’s Olivia’s first experience with death, and I know that the realization of not having her parents forever has hit her like an unexpected summer storm. She never saw the darkness that lurked behind that beautiful robin-egg sky. Just naturally took for granted that her parents would always be with her.
The first dead thing I ever saw was Matt. I had just turned thirteen.
I’ll never forget the morning Grandma got the call. I was still in bed and she flew into my room as if the apartment were on fire.
“Sarah,” Grandma said, shaking my shoulder. “You gotta get up. We gotta get to the hospital. Your dad’s been in an accident.”
Grandma rushed to her room to get dressed and I tumbled out of bed and threw on some sweats and a T-shirt.
By the time we got to the hospital, it was too late. Matt was dead. The police said he had been riding his motorcycle without a helmet and turned left in front of a truck. The trucker tried to swerve to miss Matt, but he couldn’t swerve fast enough. Matt slammed into the truck so hard that his bike slid under it.
Grandma cried. I didn’t shed one tear.
A nice lady at the hospital escorted Grandma and me to a quiet room at the end of a long hallway. It contained a blue vinyl sofa and a couple of matching chairs. She asked if Grandma needed anything or wanted her to stay until the doctor arrived, but Grandma told her to go but that she’d appreciate a box of tissues. The woman returned almost immediately and placed the tissues on the wooden coffee table.
I sat beside Grandma on the couch, resting my head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around me and pulled me close, kissing the top of my head.
“You OK?” Grandma asked.
“Yeah. Are you?”
“I just wish I could have helped your dad.”
“You tried,” I said.
“Maybe I should have tried harder.”
She sniffed. “I found the Cheerio.”
I sat up and looked at Grandma. “What are you talking about? What Cheerio?”
Grandma stared at the wall, as if she was trying to remember every detail of the story she wanted to share. “You were little. Just a baby, sitting in your high chair eating Cheerios one morning. Matt walked in and you said ‘Da. Da. Da.’ And you picked up a Cheerio and offered it to him. He didn’t think I was watching. But I was. He took the Cheerio and put it in his pocket. After I kicked him out, I found the Cheerio in his nightstand drawer, along with a photo of your mother.”
The door opened and the doctor walked in. She had brown hair tied back in a knot. She wore a white coat and a stethoscope circled her narrow neck. “I’m sorry. Your son’s internal injuries were substantial.”
“Anything worth saving for someone else?” Grandma asked.
The doctor nodded.
“Then make sure you take anything out that can help someone else. Maybe they’ll appreciate them. Take care of them. God knows Matt never did.”
Even through her black glasses, I saw the doctor’s eyebrows jump. “Uh. OK. We can do that. Would you like to see him?”
Grandma looked at me. I shook my head no. Grandma looked at the doctor. “Can she wait here?”
“Sure,” the doctor said. “Follow me.”
Grandma left and I sank back into the vinyl couch. I felt a little guilty because I didn’t cry and wasn’t sad that Matt was dead. I figured that as far as he was concerned, the only good thing about me was that he got a thousand bucks to spend on cheap vodka. In the end, I was nothing more than one of his poker chips that he cashed in when he was hard up for cash for booze. But I did wonder about the Cheerio. He didn’t seem like a Cheerio-keeping kind ofguy.
It seemed like it took forever until Grandma came back. When she did, she didn’t say much and I didn’t ask anything. I figured that if and when Grandma wanted to talk about it she would.
The last time I saw Matt he was lying in a cold silver coffin wearing the
Elizabeth nods. “But hopefully not for a very long time.”
At eight, it’s Olivia’s first experience with death, and I know that the realization of not having her parents forever has hit her like an unexpected summer storm. She never saw the darkness that lurked behind that beautiful robin-egg sky. Just naturally took for granted that her parents would always be with her.
The first dead thing I ever saw was Matt. I had just turned thirteen.
I’ll never forget the morning Grandma got the call. I was still in bed and she flew into my room as if the apartment were on fire.
“Sarah,” Grandma said, shaking my shoulder. “You gotta get up. We gotta get to the hospital. Your dad’s been in an accident.”
Grandma rushed to her room to get dressed and I tumbled out of bed and threw on some sweats and a T-shirt.
By the time we got to the hospital, it was too late. Matt was dead. The police said he had been riding his motorcycle without a helmet and turned left in front of a truck. The trucker tried to swerve to miss Matt, but he couldn’t swerve fast enough. Matt slammed into the truck so hard that his bike slid under it.
Grandma cried. I didn’t shed one tear.
A nice lady at the hospital escorted Grandma and me to a quiet room at the end of a long hallway. It contained a blue vinyl sofa and a couple of matching chairs. She asked if Grandma needed anything or wanted her to stay until the doctor arrived, but Grandma told her to go but that she’d appreciate a box of tissues. The woman returned almost immediately and placed the tissues on the wooden coffee table.
I sat beside Grandma on the couch, resting my head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around me and pulled me close, kissing the top of my head.
“You OK?” Grandma asked.
“Yeah. Are you?”
“I just wish I could have helped your dad.”
“You tried,” I said.
“Maybe I should have tried harder.”
She sniffed. “I found the Cheerio.”
I sat up and looked at Grandma. “What are you talking about? What Cheerio?”
Grandma stared at the wall, as if she was trying to remember every detail of the story she wanted to share. “You were little. Just a baby, sitting in your high chair eating Cheerios one morning. Matt walked in and you said ‘Da. Da. Da.’ And you picked up a Cheerio and offered it to him. He didn’t think I was watching. But I was. He took the Cheerio and put it in his pocket. After I kicked him out, I found the Cheerio in his nightstand drawer, along with a photo of your mother.”
The door opened and the doctor walked in. She had brown hair tied back in a knot. She wore a white coat and a stethoscope circled her narrow neck. “I’m sorry. Your son’s internal injuries were substantial.”
“Anything worth saving for someone else?” Grandma asked.
The doctor nodded.
“Then make sure you take anything out that can help someone else. Maybe they’ll appreciate them. Take care of them. God knows Matt never did.”
Even through her black glasses, I saw the doctor’s eyebrows jump. “Uh. OK. We can do that. Would you like to see him?”
Grandma looked at me. I shook my head no. Grandma looked at the doctor. “Can she wait here?”
“Sure,” the doctor said. “Follow me.”
Grandma left and I sank back into the vinyl couch. I felt a little guilty because I didn’t cry and wasn’t sad that Matt was dead. I figured that as far as he was concerned, the only good thing about me was that he got a thousand bucks to spend on cheap vodka. In the end, I was nothing more than one of his poker chips that he cashed in when he was hard up for cash for booze. But I did wonder about the Cheerio. He didn’t seem like a Cheerio-keeping kind ofguy.
It seemed like it took forever until Grandma came back. When she did, she didn’t say much and I didn’t ask anything. I figured that if and when Grandma wanted to talk about it she would.
The last time I saw Matt he was lying in a cold silver coffin wearing the
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