Holding My Son as We’re Violently Burned to Death
I’ve lied to you.
Not out of deception. I lied to you because I didn’t quite know the answer, the explanation, the future
and I didn’t want you to worry.
Or I just needed you to fall in line—calm down—so we could pay for our groceries
and get the fuck out of that goddamn grocery store.
But, son, I was not lying when I said I’d do anything to protect you.
Anything to keep you safe.
Sometimes that meant watching you put yourself in harm’s way.
Life is pointless without risk.
Sometimes it meant watching you get your heart broken
or hearing your bones break from the bleacher seats on the sidelines.
Harm and hurt, you see, are unfortunately, required of us.
The Universe demands it.
They are two of the many ways we learn and become stronger, better people.
Or so I always tried to be better
and I hope that I instilled that desire in you.
But, son, this is one of those instances where I don’t want to step back and let life throw its fire at you.
I am going to do everything I can to keep you safe.
The thing is, my darling boy, there’s nothing I can do.
This is going to hurt.
And then it won’t.
Then nothing will ever hurt again.
And no, nothing will ever feel good again.
In a few moments, everything will be over.
All that will remain is nothing.
I wish I were lying.
The fact is, boy, something went wrong.
Someone screwed up.
The Universe decided that our time has come.
We will have to be symbols.
Symbols of a father and son’s love.
Symbols of responsible air travel.
Symbols or the reminder that life is often far shorter than we want it to be.
I always worried something would happen to you.
Like you’d get sick or fall into a spiral of self-destruction that you couldn’t pull yourself out of
and wouldn’t let anyone help you.
I always worried that I would not be able to save you when you needed saving.
Like, I couldn’t be there when you needed me most.
But here I am. I’m right here. I’m right here
And there’s nothing I can do.
I can’t stop this from happening.
I can’t make the pain go away.
And I won’t lie and tell you everything’s going to be fine.
Not now. That would be absurd.
You know better. You’re smarter than that. And I respect you too much to blow smoke up your ass.
Smoke. Up your ass…
That is a little funny. Considering that there is literally smoke going in and out of your ass right this very second.
This is what I’m going to miss, my pal. Laughing with you.
Twisting the terrible into the funny.
I will miss this. My God, I will miss you.
I am so sorry this is happening to you.
I am so sorry this is happening to me.
I am so, so sorry there’s nothing I can do.
I know this is a horrible last image.
I hope you can think of the beautiful things you saw when you were living,
not burning to death in this crash.
Your mother’s face.
Kisses from your puppy.
Sunrises on the water’s edge.
Big, bright moons lighting up our street like it was almost daytime.
I don’t know… You tell me what you found beautiful.
I hope I gave you enough opportunities to see and hear and do beautiful things.
Today was meant to be one of them.
My God, boychick, I am so sorry.
Here. Hold on tight. Squeeeeze.
Remember when we would do that when you were still a little kid?
Squeeeeeze.
Oh, your poor mother…
At least she’ll find us together.
At least…
I wish I could tell you a lie
that you would believe.
Something like, “It’s going to be okay.”
But no. Not this time.
I’m sorry I can’t do anything else but hold you.
This is my worst fear realized.
I’m right here when you need me most
and there’s nothing I can do
but love you
Until the fire and the smoke takes our very last heartbeat away.
