As he put on his suit and prepared to leave for the funeral, he took a long look in the mirror. His eyes were red ad his face looked tired and old, and he knew he was somewhere on the wrong side of a spiral. Yesterday he had spent nearly the entire day writing the obituary for Stephanie and Kim, and the experience had been incredibly draining in every sense of the word.
Arriving at the church, he found himself in the position of accepting condolences from a number of people, and he reminded himself to try and keep it together, at least for the next couple of hours. He found himself craving a drink, but quickly swatted this suggestion away as he remembered that his girls deserved the best of him, at least for another hour or so. After that he would be on his own.
Several people went up to the lectern to talk before John got his chance. Former students of Stephanie’s who discussed how much her classes had affected their lives. A teacher of Kim’s spoke eloquently about how powerful her transformation had been in the classroom since she had found her new family and friends, and John tried hard to give these people his full attention. They were saying things he already knew. That two women had walked the earth who were spectacular, amazing, talented, and irreplaceable. Two women who were now gone.
When it came time for John to speak, he felt a surge of emotion overwhelm him, and he began to cry. He felt like he was literally feeling of all of the pain that was being simultaneously experienced in this room, and the force of this pain for a moment physically overwhelmed him. He realized this might be the most difficult thing he had ever had to do.
“Emily Dickinson said, That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet, John began. “It’s something I’ve thought a lot about over the last couple of days. The nature of time and our short stays here on this planet. Ultimately it’s not really how long we get, but how much of this time is spent really living, and I can say, completely and unequivocally, that my time with Stephanie and Kim was this kind of sacred time. We didn’t get to have much of it, but what we did have went beyond happiness for me. For a few fleeting moments, I got to know what pure, unadulterated joy felt like. And now I am left to think about how I can proceed without it.
Part of what brings me solace is thinking about how much of this joy will ripple into the universe now that they are gone. In the midst of crushing and overwhelming sadness, this is the one thought that has kept me going over the last couple of days. I maintain hope, that maybe this joy these women brought into the universe will one day show reveal itself to me again. Perhaps their love was that strong.
Selfishly, and to be completely honest with you, I have thought a great deal about how I am possibly going to go on without these two women in my life. In the wee small hours last night as I was thinking about this, I heard these words from the song “Ripple” by The Grateful Dead.”
There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night,
And if you go no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone.
I thought about this as I now wander into a very dark night alone. My suspicion is that the love I had, albeit so tantalizing brief, will one day rise back up inside of me, and allow me to see the light again. To honor and nurture the wonderful light these two wonderful women brought to the world, I have to believe that I may somehow must find a way to share their light and enhance the immortality they brought to the world.
In beginning this task, I will think about our story together. How three lost and broken souls like we were, somehow, and against very long odds, found our way to each other. When I first met Kim she was lonely and angry and scared. I took a big chance getting involved in her life and making her my daughter, thinking I was somehow going to save her. But in the end, it was her that saved me. That’s one life lesson I will certainly draw on from her, how powerful and healing it is to be needed by someone. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you my sweet girl.
And to my beautiful wife Stephanie, I think back on our time together, and one of the first books we ever read together from Carlos Castaneda, “The Teaching of Don Juan.” He asks, before you embark on any path ask the question: Does this path have a heart? That phrase has been in my head from the first moment I laid eyes on her, as she not only had the biggest heart of anyone I have ever known, but was also the only one who ever made my own heart come alive. When I met her I thought that part of my life, the part that needed to use a heart, was over. Yet somehow, someway, this beautiful woman saw something in me, and made me a whole person again. That was what she did. She was a giver of life, and, for however fleeting a moment, she gave me the only real life I have ever known.
Looking at all of you out there, I am reminded how many lives these two ladies truly touched. I can only hope all of you, like me, will try and “pay it forward” when it comes to sharing the love these two brought into the world during there short stay here. I know that will be my challenge as well. To somehow fill the emptiness and loss with what is left behind. The memories and ripples of their incredible spirits.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Chapter 5
He continued to wander through the crowds, which had already thinned considerably from the peak season of the summer. He looked back at the city behind him and took in the giant skyscrapers in the sky All those lives and all of those people moving bustling with life’s little errands. Winter was coming, John thought to himself. Both seasonally as well as emotionally.
He snaked his way back to the Beer Garden and ordered a drink, and then another, and then another. He found a seat next to the water and looked out at an angry looking Lake Michigan. It was a windy day and the waves were unusually large for this time of year. As John looked down on the water, it suddenly crossed his mind that he should just jump in. Why not?
These thoughts passed for the moment, but John thought a little more about the question. Camus had talked about how suicide was life’s most important philosophical question. If life is full of suffering and misery, why do we stick around here? John had always thought the answer to the question was that we made relationships along the way that made the journey at the least bearable, and at the most even joyful. This was a fine answer until the people you were sharing the journey with were gone. Then what do you do?
He had a couple of more beers and began the walk back, thinking of he did as the people that counted on him as a psychologist, and how they might feel if he was gone, especially at his own hand. One thing he knew, was that it was very hard to estimate your worth to others when you were unable to see this worth in yourself. He knew he was at least a competent therapist, and that people had benefited from his experience, but for right now he felt like he was a man without a heart, and he couldn’t see what good such a man would be to anybody.
As he walked he couldn’t think about much else besides having another drink. He decided he wasn’t ready to leave this mortal coil, but also not ready to be alone with his thoughts either. He wandered though Lincoln Park and found a nondescript bar with the “Old Style” sign on the door and went inside. He wanted to disappear for a while, and Chicago had many such spots for just this kind of thing.
After ordering a Makers Mark neat, he wandered back to the old-fashioned jukebox and put a five inside. He had always had a playlist for the most melancholy moments of his life, and now he flipped through until he found Bob Seger, and in particular the song “still the same.” It had always conjured up a strong set of feelings, and now as he listened to it he thought about the song and its possible relevance to his own life. Here he sat in a dingy bar surrounded by strangers he didn’t know drowning his sorrows. After all these years. Still the same.
He followed that selection with “turn the page” and “against the wind” and settled into a familiar feeling of sadness and content. He had operated at this altitude for many years before he had met Stephanie and Kim, and somehow the familiarity of this feeling was oddly soothing to him.
After a while he simply lost all sense of time and place. Chicago has many such places inside its depths. Places that are dark and unassuming, and where a man can wander inside and away from his life into an entirely different kind of world. John was surprised to find that it was dark when he finally did stagger outside, and he decided that it was probably not a good idea to continue to walk in the condition that he was in. However small it was, the survival instinct still was faintly alive inside of him.
On the long cab ride home down the lake, he was again filled with the sense of dread about the things he had to do over the next couple of days. He someway and somehow had to think of some words to describe the things he had lost, and put them into some kind of coherent speech. It was a daunting task.
He snaked his way back to the Beer Garden and ordered a drink, and then another, and then another. He found a seat next to the water and looked out at an angry looking Lake Michigan. It was a windy day and the waves were unusually large for this time of year. As John looked down on the water, it suddenly crossed his mind that he should just jump in. Why not?
These thoughts passed for the moment, but John thought a little more about the question. Camus had talked about how suicide was life’s most important philosophical question. If life is full of suffering and misery, why do we stick around here? John had always thought the answer to the question was that we made relationships along the way that made the journey at the least bearable, and at the most even joyful. This was a fine answer until the people you were sharing the journey with were gone. Then what do you do?
He had a couple of more beers and began the walk back, thinking of he did as the people that counted on him as a psychologist, and how they might feel if he was gone, especially at his own hand. One thing he knew, was that it was very hard to estimate your worth to others when you were unable to see this worth in yourself. He knew he was at least a competent therapist, and that people had benefited from his experience, but for right now he felt like he was a man without a heart, and he couldn’t see what good such a man would be to anybody.
As he walked he couldn’t think about much else besides having another drink. He decided he wasn’t ready to leave this mortal coil, but also not ready to be alone with his thoughts either. He wandered though Lincoln Park and found a nondescript bar with the “Old Style” sign on the door and went inside. He wanted to disappear for a while, and Chicago had many such spots for just this kind of thing.
After ordering a Makers Mark neat, he wandered back to the old-fashioned jukebox and put a five inside. He had always had a playlist for the most melancholy moments of his life, and now he flipped through until he found Bob Seger, and in particular the song “still the same.” It had always conjured up a strong set of feelings, and now as he listened to it he thought about the song and its possible relevance to his own life. Here he sat in a dingy bar surrounded by strangers he didn’t know drowning his sorrows. After all these years. Still the same.
He followed that selection with “turn the page” and “against the wind” and settled into a familiar feeling of sadness and content. He had operated at this altitude for many years before he had met Stephanie and Kim, and somehow the familiarity of this feeling was oddly soothing to him.
After a while he simply lost all sense of time and place. Chicago has many such places inside its depths. Places that are dark and unassuming, and where a man can wander inside and away from his life into an entirely different kind of world. John was surprised to find that it was dark when he finally did stagger outside, and he decided that it was probably not a good idea to continue to walk in the condition that he was in. However small it was, the survival instinct still was faintly alive inside of him.
On the long cab ride home down the lake, he was again filled with the sense of dread about the things he had to do over the next couple of days. He someway and somehow had to think of some words to describe the things he had lost, and put them into some kind of coherent speech. It was a daunting task.
Chapter 4
After a night spent making phone calls, John looked up and saw that it was already noon. Having abstained from alcohol for so long, he had forgotten about how the next day felt, and made a note to call the patients that were expecting him and reschedule, perhaps indefinitely. These would be difficult calls to make, and he reminded himself that these were people who had placed their trust in him to guide them through their own troubles. He tried to think and formulate a plan, but found his head simply would not cooperate. He didn’t miss feeling like this.
He reminded himself again that alcohol was a luxury he could not afford for the next couple of days, as he still had to keep up appearances, and more importantly, find some kind of words to say that might help make sense of what had happened. He didn’t relish the task, as he felt quite sure that no such words existed. He could wax poetic, and draw on years of rehearsed words meant to comfort and console, but deep down he knew they would be a lie.
He got out of bed and made some extra strong coffee, and began to write down some of the things he had to do over the next couple of days. He knew he would not be the only one in pain, and a part of him drew on the idea that others would be counting on him to be a source of strength. Still, he knew that he would be an imposter in this role, as the only things that ever made him truly feel real were no longer here.
After making his call, he threw on an old pair of corduroy pants and a sweater, and began walking towards the lake, something that has always brought him comfort. Evanston in the fall is a beautiful place, as the old trees begin to change in color and reflect these new colors against the backdrop of the lake behind it. He stopped often as he walked, thinking as he did about am old poem “footprints” from his childhood about Jesus carrying someone when they were going through a particularly difficult time. He was not a religious man, and had always found the poem a little silly, even as a young child. Now he thought he would give anything to feel that kind of comfort, as he had never felt more alone in his entire life. He wondered if he would ever find anything to believe in again.
He walked mile after mile down Lake Michigan, taking in the city he did and thinking about how each neighborhood had a little piece of his own personal history locked inside of them somewhere. Still, each step came with a corresponding bit of pain, as he thought about places he and his family had shared together. There was Moody’s in the Edgewater neighborhood, where they had shared some of their first dates together and had spent hour after hour in conversation. He passed through Wrigleyville and thought about going to Cubs games and street festivals, and all of the crazy times they had there as well.
When he finally got to Navy Pier he had been walking for miles. He walked back to the Beer Garden in the back, passing as he did all of the happy families walking along the boardwalk who were taking in the city. He felt a terrible, physical pang of loss, and quickly went to the nearest vendor and ordered himself a drink. It was his most primitive and dangerous response to pin, but right at this moment she couldn’t think of any better way.
He reminded himself again that alcohol was a luxury he could not afford for the next couple of days, as he still had to keep up appearances, and more importantly, find some kind of words to say that might help make sense of what had happened. He didn’t relish the task, as he felt quite sure that no such words existed. He could wax poetic, and draw on years of rehearsed words meant to comfort and console, but deep down he knew they would be a lie.
He got out of bed and made some extra strong coffee, and began to write down some of the things he had to do over the next couple of days. He knew he would not be the only one in pain, and a part of him drew on the idea that others would be counting on him to be a source of strength. Still, he knew that he would be an imposter in this role, as the only things that ever made him truly feel real were no longer here.
After making his call, he threw on an old pair of corduroy pants and a sweater, and began walking towards the lake, something that has always brought him comfort. Evanston in the fall is a beautiful place, as the old trees begin to change in color and reflect these new colors against the backdrop of the lake behind it. He stopped often as he walked, thinking as he did about am old poem “footprints” from his childhood about Jesus carrying someone when they were going through a particularly difficult time. He was not a religious man, and had always found the poem a little silly, even as a young child. Now he thought he would give anything to feel that kind of comfort, as he had never felt more alone in his entire life. He wondered if he would ever find anything to believe in again.
He walked mile after mile down Lake Michigan, taking in the city he did and thinking about how each neighborhood had a little piece of his own personal history locked inside of them somewhere. Still, each step came with a corresponding bit of pain, as he thought about places he and his family had shared together. There was Moody’s in the Edgewater neighborhood, where they had shared some of their first dates together and had spent hour after hour in conversation. He passed through Wrigleyville and thought about going to Cubs games and street festivals, and all of the crazy times they had there as well.
When he finally got to Navy Pier he had been walking for miles. He walked back to the Beer Garden in the back, passing as he did all of the happy families walking along the boardwalk who were taking in the city. He felt a terrible, physical pang of loss, and quickly went to the nearest vendor and ordered himself a drink. It was his most primitive and dangerous response to pin, but right at this moment she couldn’t think of any better way.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Chapter 3
When it came time to identify his wife, he saw the scratches on her arms and hands, and was told by the doctor that she likely got them trying to protect Kim right up to the end. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest, and for a brief moment he thought about how she had once told him she never felt like she was cut out to be a mother. She was the fiercest protector he had even seen, and being with Kim had awakened a part of her that was at the same time so strong yet so vulnerable, that it had been truly awe-inspiring to observe. He was continually amazed by their love for one another.
As he looked down at her lifeless body, he reached down and put his hand on her face, remembering as he did the first time he had ever done this as she lay quietly sleeping beside him the very first night that they had met. He thought about how much he was looking forward to watching this face change over the years. How it might have changed as laugh lines and wrinkles and life’s travails continued to add to its character. He would only touch it again in his imagination now, and he held his hand to her face for as long as he could possibly could, before the doctor came and gently led him out of the room.
He walked down to the edge of Lake Michigan to a place he used to walk with Stephanie when they first met, and watched the lights of Chicago, thinking about the lives that were going on somewhere behind the lights. He wanted to tell them to take some time and look at the people they loved very closely, because life could intervene any goddamn time it wanted and take it all away. In some terrifying and completely random way, the predator could find a perfectly happy family and snuff them out without any kind of rhyme or reason.
Back in his car, he took the bottle back out of the glove compartment and had another swig. As he did, he reminded himself that he had to keep it together for at least a couple of more days before surrendering completing to his destructive impulses, even if that was the road he chose to go down. He had phone calls to make and arrangements to make, and he knew he owed it to the girls to do it properly. He put the bottle away and began driving very slowly to his empty home. Knowing it was a home that would never be the same again.
As he looked down at her lifeless body, he reached down and put his hand on her face, remembering as he did the first time he had ever done this as she lay quietly sleeping beside him the very first night that they had met. He thought about how much he was looking forward to watching this face change over the years. How it might have changed as laugh lines and wrinkles and life’s travails continued to add to its character. He would only touch it again in his imagination now, and he held his hand to her face for as long as he could possibly could, before the doctor came and gently led him out of the room.
He walked down to the edge of Lake Michigan to a place he used to walk with Stephanie when they first met, and watched the lights of Chicago, thinking about the lives that were going on somewhere behind the lights. He wanted to tell them to take some time and look at the people they loved very closely, because life could intervene any goddamn time it wanted and take it all away. In some terrifying and completely random way, the predator could find a perfectly happy family and snuff them out without any kind of rhyme or reason.
Back in his car, he took the bottle back out of the glove compartment and had another swig. As he did, he reminded himself that he had to keep it together for at least a couple of more days before surrendering completing to his destructive impulses, even if that was the road he chose to go down. He had phone calls to make and arrangements to make, and he knew he owed it to the girls to do it properly. He put the bottle away and began driving very slowly to his empty home. Knowing it was a home that would never be the same again.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
As he drove himself down to the morgue to identify his wife and daughter, he thought about who he could call for some kind of help. Dr. Paul came immediately to mind, but he was of course gone, having taught John all of the lessons he had to give before finally succumbing to his cancer. After Dr. Paul it had been his wife and daughter. Those were the people in his life.
As he approached St. Joseph’s hospital on Lake Shore Drive, he pulled into a quiet wooded area, and took a long look in the mirror, knowing he had nowhere near the strength it required to do this thing he needed to do. He reached into the glove compartment and took out a bottle of whiskey he had picked up at a 7-11 on the way down. Opening it up, he took a long hard swig out of the bottle, and felt a pang of terrible searing regret. He knew he was going down a very dark road, perhaps even one without a way to get back. Still, he needed to feel something different. Anything, and for now, the devil he knew was better than all the other alternatives.
John finished half of the bottle he had purchased before working up the courage to go and see his wife and daughter, but was still feeling very numb, and unaware of his surroundings. The attending doctor informed him it had been a car accident on the drive, and how they had both sustained head trauma, and were likely killed almost instantly. John listened to the words like he was hearing a story about someone else’s life, but managed to nod and ask questions at the right times, strictly out of some kind of reflex. He recognized the sings of trauma he was experiencing, but was unable to take any meaningful steps to take himself out of the daze.
When the doctor pulled the sheet away from his daughter, he was stunned to see how pristine she looked. There were no obvious signs of the trauma, and all that remained was some kind of ghostly angelic-looking creature completely intact except for the life force that had been growing strong inside her.
In an instant their journey together flashed through his eyes. First their time together as doctor and patient, and then, after much resistance and struggle, as father and daughter. She was the only child he had ever ben able to call his own, and now she was gone. He had given her everything he knew how to give, but still, it hadn’t been enough, and he couldn’t help but think that without his involvement in her life, she would at the very least still be alive.
As he drove himself down to the morgue to identify his wife and daughter, he thought about who he could call for some kind of help. Dr. Paul came immediately to mind, but he was of course gone, having taught John all of the lessons he had to give before finally succumbing to his cancer. After Dr. Paul it had been his wife and daughter. Those were the people in his life.
As he approached St. Joseph’s hospital on Lake Shore Drive, he pulled into a quiet wooded area, and took a long look in the mirror, knowing he had nowhere near the strength it required to do this thing he needed to do. He reached into the glove compartment and took out a bottle of whiskey he had picked up at a 7-11 on the way down. Opening it up, he took a long hard swig out of the bottle, and felt a pang of terrible searing regret. He knew he was going down a very dark road, perhaps even one without a way to get back. Still, he needed to feel something different. Anything, and for now, the devil he knew was better than all the other alternatives.
John finished half of the bottle he had purchased before working up the courage to go and see his wife and daughter, but was still feeling very numb, and unaware of his surroundings. The attending doctor informed him it had been a car accident on the drive, and how they had both sustained head trauma, and were likely killed almost instantly. John listened to the words like he was hearing a story about someone else’s life, but managed to nod and ask questions at the right times, strictly out of some kind of reflex. He recognized the sings of trauma he was experiencing, but was unable to take any meaningful steps to take himself out of the daze.
When the doctor pulled the sheet away from his daughter, he was stunned to see how pristine she looked. There were no obvious signs of the trauma, and all that remained was some kind of ghostly angelic-looking creature completely intact except for the life force that had been growing strong inside her.
In an instant their journey together flashed through his eyes. First their time together as doctor and patient, and then, after much resistance and struggle, as father and daughter. She was the only child he had ever ben able to call his own, and now she was gone. He had given her everything he knew how to give, but still, it hadn’t been enough, and he couldn’t help but think that without his involvement in her life, she would at the very least still be alive.
Chapter 1
You'll Never Be Going Back Home
Oh, how we danced with the Rose of Tralee
Her long hair black as a raven
Oh, how we danced and you whispered to me
You'll never be going back home
Tom Waits- Rain Dogs
Chapter 1
John poured a tall cup of coffee and took a long look around. It had been a successful day, and he wanted to savor the moment, because he knew that it often went the other way as well. He looked over and noticed the blinking light going off on his phone, and decided it could wait. Although he was a psychologist and technically always on call, he also knew that people were often tougher than they gave themselves credit for. He took a long swig of his coffee and began to gather his things He hadn’t had a drink stronger than coffee in nearly a year, and slowly, and finally, he was learning another way to live.
He finished the rest of his coffee and turned off the lights, thinking as he did of bringing home dinner for his wonderful wife Stephanie and his beautiful daughter Kim, the two primary reasons for the new man he had become. He thought about picking up a pizza on his way home for them, and remembered that this was their girl’s night where he was left to fend for himself. He looked over at the bar across the street and thought for just a moment of going in. From a great deal of long, hard trial and error, he recognized the urge as a symptom of feelings of abandonment he felt, knowing his girls were having fun without him. He chuckled to himself and decided he would pick up a sandwich at Subway on the way home.
Driving home he thought about all of the events of the past year, and how much his life had changed since he last sat and contemplated his destiny. He had gotten married to a woman he considered his absolute and unequivocal soulmate, a concept he thought was silly until he had met his wife about a year earlier. They had adopted a daughter, who had solidified for them what was already a wonderful dream come true. For the first time in his life, and after much dust that had finally settled, he was truly and completely happy.
As he wound down Lakeshore Drive in Chicago, he took a look at the lake and thought about how much he was looking forward to the fall. It was early September and it was his favorite time of the year in the Windy City, as things finally cooled off a little bit, and the city became a wonderful place to be again. He thought about taking his girls up to Lake Geneva to see some of the fall colors and made a note to book a room at The Abbey Resort, which was a beautiful place along the lake he had been going to for years. He decided it would be a real pleasure to share a place like this after so many years of going there alone.
He continued his way into Evanston, where he now lived in the former home of his greatest friend and mentor Dr. Paul, who had passed away the year before. He and his family lived here during the school year, and also spent considerable time on John’s old family farm, which he had purchased as a place for he and his girls to spend some time away from the city. They had spent nearly two months there over the summer, and the long walks, sunsets, and time spent talking round the fire had been some of the best of his life.
As he pulled into his driveway, he noticed that the girls were still gone which came as a bit of a surprise given the fact that it was now getting dark. He pulled out his cell phone and noticed he had missed a number of messages, but also that they were from a number he didn’t recognize. It was then he got the feeling in his stomach, and he knew that something was horribly and terribly wrong. He could feel it, and his feelings were very seldom wrong. He began shaking as he tried to keep his phone steady as he slowly returned the call. The call that would tell him the worst thing any man could possibly want to hear about his wife and daughter.
Oh, how we danced with the Rose of Tralee
Her long hair black as a raven
Oh, how we danced and you whispered to me
You'll never be going back home
Tom Waits- Rain Dogs
Chapter 1
John poured a tall cup of coffee and took a long look around. It had been a successful day, and he wanted to savor the moment, because he knew that it often went the other way as well. He looked over and noticed the blinking light going off on his phone, and decided it could wait. Although he was a psychologist and technically always on call, he also knew that people were often tougher than they gave themselves credit for. He took a long swig of his coffee and began to gather his things He hadn’t had a drink stronger than coffee in nearly a year, and slowly, and finally, he was learning another way to live.
He finished the rest of his coffee and turned off the lights, thinking as he did of bringing home dinner for his wonderful wife Stephanie and his beautiful daughter Kim, the two primary reasons for the new man he had become. He thought about picking up a pizza on his way home for them, and remembered that this was their girl’s night where he was left to fend for himself. He looked over at the bar across the street and thought for just a moment of going in. From a great deal of long, hard trial and error, he recognized the urge as a symptom of feelings of abandonment he felt, knowing his girls were having fun without him. He chuckled to himself and decided he would pick up a sandwich at Subway on the way home.
Driving home he thought about all of the events of the past year, and how much his life had changed since he last sat and contemplated his destiny. He had gotten married to a woman he considered his absolute and unequivocal soulmate, a concept he thought was silly until he had met his wife about a year earlier. They had adopted a daughter, who had solidified for them what was already a wonderful dream come true. For the first time in his life, and after much dust that had finally settled, he was truly and completely happy.
As he wound down Lakeshore Drive in Chicago, he took a look at the lake and thought about how much he was looking forward to the fall. It was early September and it was his favorite time of the year in the Windy City, as things finally cooled off a little bit, and the city became a wonderful place to be again. He thought about taking his girls up to Lake Geneva to see some of the fall colors and made a note to book a room at The Abbey Resort, which was a beautiful place along the lake he had been going to for years. He decided it would be a real pleasure to share a place like this after so many years of going there alone.
He continued his way into Evanston, where he now lived in the former home of his greatest friend and mentor Dr. Paul, who had passed away the year before. He and his family lived here during the school year, and also spent considerable time on John’s old family farm, which he had purchased as a place for he and his girls to spend some time away from the city. They had spent nearly two months there over the summer, and the long walks, sunsets, and time spent talking round the fire had been some of the best of his life.
As he pulled into his driveway, he noticed that the girls were still gone which came as a bit of a surprise given the fact that it was now getting dark. He pulled out his cell phone and noticed he had missed a number of messages, but also that they were from a number he didn’t recognize. It was then he got the feeling in his stomach, and he knew that something was horribly and terribly wrong. He could feel it, and his feelings were very seldom wrong. He began shaking as he tried to keep his phone steady as he slowly returned the call. The call that would tell him the worst thing any man could possibly want to hear about his wife and daughter.
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