Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

As I tried to sleep last night, my head was atumble with:

The photo of the boy in the plaid jacket with his hands over his mouth, his sister (I imagine) behind him, head down, arms around him.

I pictured scenes in bedrooms, living rooms, kitchens. The crying multiplied by twenty-seven multiplied by grandparents multiplied by aunts and uncles, multiplied by siblings, spouses, cousins, friends, teachers, towns, cities, the world.

Then back to the living rooms: the crying headache, the swollen eyes, the hoarseness from screaming why, the numbness after there are no more tears, the heartache for which there is no remedy. The checking and re-checking of bedrooms just one more time - in case this is a dream. The hoping for a miracle. The smelling of clothes, the looking at pictures, the phone calls. The repeating of the day, the pounding of reality with one more news story. The guilt of fights, no I-love-yous because of a rush. The sorrow of parents for everything done or not done. Never to be undone. Finally the anguished sleep by small beds.

The horror of "shopping" for a coffin; planning funerals, flowers, casseroles. The future of driving past the school, but no-one to pick up.

The holidays tainted, the joys of the season dashed. The not knowing what to say if yours was one who came home. More guilt, wondering why them and not us, but glad just the same. The fear of laughing or smiling. The counseling to come.

Heaven help us.