Monday, October 18, 2010


Saturday morning, after dropping my daughter off at class, I was driving in to work, when I received a phone call from my mother on the cell phone.  I had just plugged the cell phone into the recharger, which is at about ankle level in my mini-van, so I was leaned over trying to talk while still driving.  Generally, I'm against talking while driving, but having my mom call me at 9 on a Saturday morning is not a common occurrence.
"Hi, Momma.  What's up?"
There was a pause, then, "Jon, you need to come over"
 "Right now?"  I thought maybe she had some work for me to do around the house or something to show me.
"Your father is dead"
Thus began my drive across town.  I have often read in stories and accounts about people 'driving on auto-pilot'.  I was completely aware of where I was, and what traffic was doing, but nevertheless, my mind was quite distracted.
As I pulled up to my parents' house, there were two police cruisers parked out front.  Walking into the living room, my father was as my mother had found him, sitting in his chair, looking as if he'd fallen asleep.

No comments:

Post a Comment