Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Re-introducing the Boy

The boy and my twitter-patted state were long forgotten in the 24 hour after math...even longer, now that I think about it, because what I now felt was different.  I was trying to be the rock my family needed and on the surface I was doing well.  Underneath, I was crumbling and desperately needed a rock of my own. 

The boy is re-introduced to the story...

Tragedy struck on a  Saturday.  I think the boy came over that Sunday evening, but I can't be sure.  He said, "I don't know what to say or do," and hugged me like I wasn't fragile and breakable, the way I felt inside, by fiercely as if he might not ever let go.

My cousins were staying with my dad and I.  I was operating on autopilot.  The baby was still in critical condition.  My mother was still gone.  My grandfather, the pillar of our family and retired minister, was questioning every ounce of faith he had within him.

The boy had a bag.

"I feel silly giving this to you now," he said, "but I thought of you when I saw it and now I know you need it."

It was a simple athletic logo sweatshirt.  The kind that gets softer with each wash and wear, in my favorite shade of purple with a touch of comforting heather gray. 

"It's like a hug all the time." he said, "and I brought movies for the kids.  Funny ones.  To distract them.  My little brother helped me pick."

That sweatshirt and those movies were my life line and I clung to that boy for dear life.

11 comments:

  1. This is a moving story. I like the authorial intrusion: "The boy is re-introduced to the story..." It puts us inside and outside of the narrative at once. Also, I like that you call him "the boy" instead of giving his name. That makes him stand out more and might be a little bit of foreshadowing.

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  2. I had to go back and catch up on your posts after reading this today! This is a powerful story you are telling. I'm both waiting for and dreading the next installment! I will definitely be reading!

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  3. After reading this, I had to go back to read the rest of your story. It is heart wrenching and I'm sure difficult to write about. The boy's tenderheartedness has come through in each of your slices and especially in this one when he said: "It's like a hug all the time". Thank you for sharing this difficult time in your life.

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  4. Thanks for sharing your heart. The anguish is visceral and is conveyed as such.

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  5. Wow! What a powerful story. Such imagery (sweatshirt that gets softer with each wash and wear, like a hug all the time). The emotions that were depicted in the last line were heartbreaking. I am left with a lot of wondering.

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  6. "...hugged me like I wasn't fragile and breakable..." You felt different, he still felt the same and just wanted to help through unimaginable sorrow. He couldn't imagine grown-up decisions (like college) and has had suddenly been thrust into... This.

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  7. What a nice gesture! Your writing speaks from your heart. Keep it up.

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  8. I just went back and read each slice from the month to catch up on this story. Each written with such raw emotion and the build up you've created is so thought provoking. Wondering what will happen next, I applaud you on a job well done so far on this journey you are taking through writing. It is the kind of journey one must take when experiencing such a loss. REALLY well done pieces.

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  9. You definitely have a storytelling flair. I am so sorry to hear about your loss - and so anxious to hear more of this memoir.

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  10. This story gives just enough suspense to keep us hanging. You have an amazing way with words. The sweatshirt was the perfect gift from the boy. A hug any time.

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  11. That sweatshirt... it's an object that conveys so much. You needed a hug wherever and whenever... and that's what you received.

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