I saw it today, the place where you died.
There is a white cross sitting there; in that exact spot.
I touched the ground where your blood still lies.
It’s so dark and so thick. Mom and the boy’s covered it well.
There is a bouquet of silk roses, red and white sitting right on top of the stain.
In the middle of the bouquet there is a blue or green surgical glove from a paramedic, and a heart made out of pipe cleaners.
You’re youngest boy collected as much of the ruined car as he could find.
And he placed it in a triangle around where you bled out.
I walked along the groove in the road where you lost control.
I walked right in the path where the tires bit into the ground.
I saw where the car hit the first time.
And the second.
And I saw where it stopped.
I picked up a piece of your windshield, the thing that killed you.
I touched it with my bare hands.
I held that shattered piece of rubbery glass and stared at it.
I and choked back the tears that built in my throat.
I walked around the wreckage site and collected 5 pieces of your car.
5, because there were 5 of us, now there are 4.
I didn’t think about it.
I collected 5 because 5 is a good number.
Everything is done in 5’s.
5 presents from Japan, once for each of you and me too.
4 Christmas presents, one for each of you from me.
And now there are only 4 left.
I’ll only get to buy 3 gifts from now on instead of 4.
I listened as we told Lyla that the lawyer said she had no legal rights.
Even though she’s been your best friend and soul mate for thirteen years.
Maybe longer.
I listened as she screamed in anguish.
She lost everything when she lost you.
We have to sale the house.
The dogs and the car you promised Blake.
Just because the boys are not eighteen.
It is a shame you never married Lyla on paper.
Because now there is nothing we can do.
Mom is going to make sure the boys are taken care of.
She’s pushing to make sure their lives are what you worked so hard to give.
I helped Brady pack his things.
We stuffed trash bags full of his clothes.
He went to the closet and pulled your jacket out.
He asked me to pack it for him.
It was heart wrenching.
He’s only twelve and he has to put on a brave face because he has “dried up” all his tears.
He has no more left to cry.
He kept the broken air soft gun you gave him.
And if it had your name, you can be sure he packed it away for him and Blake.
Tommy and I loaded all of Brady’s things into my car.
We couldn’t get Blake to pack his stuff.
He’s mad we have to sell the dogs.
Then Tommy and I started on our way home.
But I had to stop and say good bye.
So I stopped at the place where you died.
And I got out of the car and I cried.
I sat in front of that white cross and I cried.
I wanted to write your name on the cross so passer-by’s would know your name.
But I didn’t have a pen, or a pencil, or a crayon, or a sharpie, or even a tooth pick.
So your memorial is left unmarked; except by love.
I’m going to go back every year until I feel I don’t need to anymore.
I’m going to make sure that the cross stays where it is, and no one touches it.
Cause I’ll just put it right back.
I went to that spot today.
The place where you died.
And I sat there and I cried.
And as far as I’m concerned, that place where you died…
Is Holy ground.