Denial

Kelsey was gone.

Gone.

I had seen the crumpled car. The 40,000 pound dump truck silently looming over it. We had touched her lifeless body in the funeral home. That’s as real as it gets. As bad as it gets.

Yet, a part of me would not accept it. Could not believe it. Was this some kind of bad dream? Some nightmare that just kept rolling on? How was this possible? When she had so much to live for. When she could be such a wonderful witness for Christ.

Waves of agony. Waves of denial. Battering us like ocean waves. First from one direction. Then the other. Relentless. Threatening to swamp us.

Then family started arriving. First my sister. Then two brothers. Each arrival bringing a new siege of grief, a new round of shock. Hanging on to them. Pouring out our anguish. Soaking up theirs.

The house was filled with people. All meant well. All tried to support, but it was so surreal. So unreal that it was numbing.

Dire days. Days of shock. And yet, days of piercing agony.

The worst days of our lives. No parent should ever have to go through this.