t. That is why the lake took more than our son that day. It took the future we had already started promising ourselves.
Owen left that morning with Charlie and some friends for the lake house. By afternoon, my husband was calling me in a voice I did not recognize. He told me Owen had gone into the water. A storm had rolled in too fast. And the current had carried our son away.
That was the last morning I saw him alive.
Search teams looked for days. They found nothing. They told us what strong currents do and eventually used the words families are expected to accept when reality gives them nothing solid to hold on to.
Owen was declared gone. Without a body. Without a face for me to kiss goodbye.
I broke so badly they admitted me for observation. Charlie handled the funeral because I could barely stand through it. When there is no proper goodbye, grief does not feel finished. It just keeps circling.
The phone kept ringing, snapping me out of my thoughts. I finally looked at the screen: Mrs. Dilmore.
Owen adored Mrs. Dilmore. Math was his favorite subject because she made it feel like a puzzle, and he talked about her at dinner more than he talked about half his friends.
Charlie handled the funeral.
“Hello?” My voice came out thin when I finally answered.
Read more by clicking the (NEXT »») button below!
