After 18 Months

I received the phone call that Daniel that died while I was at work. My office was on the second floor with a window looking out on a big tree. I still see myself standing with my mobile phone to my ear, begging Charles not to let my child die. I was looking outside and I remember the exact detail of the leaves on that tree, all the tiny shapes in different colours green. 

The phone call ended while I was folded double to the ground, feeling sick while my eyes found every twist and turn in the faint marble pattern of the floor tiles, also detail still so clear in my memory. And I remember the wooden grain of my desk as I gathered my things to go to Daniel, leaving behind the world as I knew and loved it. 

It was a two hour drive to where Daniel was. I remember how every kilometer felt like forever and I know that I spoke to Charles again, again begging him not to let this nightmare become true. He then gave the phone to one of the doctors to tell me that Daniel was really dead. I can still feel and see the texture of the material that covered the car seats. I also noticed that there was a small bead missing from the pattern on my handbag and I wondered how and when it had lost it. 

I think the car radio was on for the entire time that it took to get to Daniel but it is only one song that I can remember playing. It is "I'm Only Human" by The Parlotones (a South African band) and whenever I hear it, it takes me back to that drive, revoking the empty feeling of the first hours after being told that Daniel had died. The song isn't sad and it isn't about death or loss but as the words from the chorus hauntingly repeated "I'm only human after all" I thought of death, being the end of our humanity and how I wasn't ready for Danny's life to have ended - it was too wrong, too soon, too painful, too unreal... and sadly too real.

That was me, 2 hours into my new lifetime of sorrow and longing. It is now nearly 18 months later and I know I will relive the horror of that day, in its vivid sickening detail, for the rest of my own human existence. How can I ever forget how it is to have lost Daniel?