Today I was out back picking berries with the girls. I started to think about the story you used to tell me when I was a kid. How, when you were a boy, you and your dad went berry picking. You ended up falling off of a train trellis, breaking your collarbone. You had passed out from the fall and woke to Grandpa leaning over you, tears in his eyes. He thought that you had died. You and Grandpa hobbled together the miles it took to get back home.
When I was sixteen we took a trip to your hometown and you took us to that same train trellis that you had fallen off of. I went to the edge of that trellis and looked down. I couldn’t believe that anybody could have fallen from such a distance and survived. It was so incredibly high. It took my breath away. I heard a voice behind me ask me to back away from the edge. It was an unfamiliar voice, so I turned around and I was surprised that it was you who was talking to me. You had an expression on your face that I’d never seen before and you continued to speak in a tone that I couldn’t place at the time.
Many years later I was home with a very sick baby and I felt very powerless with the situation I was in. I was so worried about her well being and health. I remember calling mom for advice and I recognized that same tone in my voice that you had that day by the train trellis. It all made sense to me. Panic.
Thank you for loving me so much.