Seven years ago today, my uncle and cousin were killed in a car accident. My cousin was 7. She had cerebral palsy, and she, and her mom & dad were on the way to the city, for a physiotherapy appointment. They hit a patch of black ice. My uncle & cousin were thrown from the vehicle, and killed.
I’m sad for my uncle’s widow, I’m sad for her remaining son and daughter.
I can’t stop thinking about my grandma.
She’s probably been crying most of the day. Remembering the granddaughter, whom she’d given birthday presents to, the night before the accident. Remembering the son she was so close to, her favorite. Feeling like life dealt her a shit hand.
I went to the phone, started to call her.
But I didn’t.
She wouldn’t be expecting a call from me. We don’t talk all that often. And when we do, we strenuously avoid topics as unpleasant as this.
But mostly, I didn’t call because she’s 80. What if time is being merciful, and she’s managed to forget that today’s the day?