Today I went to Desi's house to get a perm. (For those of you who may not know, Desi and Camille have been best friends since kindergarten and she is like a second daughter). Her little kids were going to go right across the street and ride their bikes in the parking lot at the school (which they call the park).
It brought to mind a story about my Tony. When he was just about the same age as Emmalie we lived just kitty-corner to the park and he used to love to ride his new bike there. I told them that I was watching out the window when I saw Tony crash his bike into one of the logs that were at the park's perimeter. I saw him get up and he started jumping up and down and crying (but I could'nt hear him, I could only see him). When I met him halfway he was bleeding badly from a cut on his head. (Poor little guy! You know how head wounds bleed)
TONY WITH HIS BIRTHDAY BIKE APRIL 1979
Emmalie was sitting at the counter eating a donut I'd brought and chimed in, "Did he die?"
I thought about it for about 2 seconds and answered, "Yes, but not from that!" And then laughed. Desi catching the sick joke, joined in. Finally Emmalie wanted to know what was so funny. So explained to her that he'd died from a drowning accident 2 years later.
There may be those who will judge me harshly on this one. I'm just grateful that, for once, the *dead* question didn't feel like such a punch in the gut. (But I cried as I wrote all of this!)