Family

Family

The funeral was three days ago. My eyes were tired and dry from all the crying. Danny and I had been together for eleven years. We had met at dance club. I hate dance clubs. So did Danny. All those people gyrating and wiggling to a beat that out pulsed our hearts. Our friends had dragged us there, promising we’d have fun, admonishing us that we’d never meet anyone if we didn’t get out.

Wasn’t it just amazing that the two of us, with so much in common, would end up in the same, quiet corner? We chatted and then we dated. We had all ready fallen in love. Five years later, we had a small ceremony; just close friends and some family. I remember we had made a promise to each other not to drink too much. After all, we wanted to enjoy the honeymoon later. It was that same night we decided we wanted children right way.

It wasn’t biologically possible for us to have children, so a year and a half later, we adopted Josh. He was five. His father had left just after he was born. His mother died of a drug over dose six months later. He was a thin boy with had shaggy hair. He was shy to point of being mute. He had been in three different foster homes in those six months. There was something about that boy. We couldn’t figure it out. But we loved him since we first laid eyes on him. Danny said it was just meant to be.

It was Danny who first made him smile. The smiles became giggles. Then giggles turned into genuine laughs. He called by our first names. As he grew into a boy of eleven, he fell in love with soccer. Every Saturday morning, he and Danny were out in the back yard. They ran and they kicked. I cringed every time they bounced the ball off their heads. But they loved it.

We never missed a game. Though we would have, if Danny had been in charge of keeping track. He was handsome and athletic and intelligent, but he couldn’t keep track of anything without a Global Positioning Satellite. The places we’d find his car keys!

It was after one of these games, Josh’s team had won 6-0, that we said good-bye to Danny. He was driving and the other car screamed through the intersection. I never did find out if the driver was drunk or just stupid. Same thing I guess.

We made it to the hospital. By some miracle, Josh and I had only cuts and bruises. At first they wouldn’t allow me into the ER with Danny. Dumb ass rules about immediate family and such. But I got in there to see him anyway. I tried to keep Josh out, but he wouldn’t have it. I didn’t know he knew such words. I’ll have to be more careful. I try not to think about what Danny looked like lying there on the gurney, hoses all through him, reds and blues and purples all over his body. I’ll never forget it, no matter how much I want to. Never.

God gave him enough time to tell both Josh and me that he loved us and to kiss us both.

Now, I sleep on the sofa. The television is on, but I don’t see what’s playing. I haven’t slept in the bed for four days. Our bed.

Josh wanders in and looks at me.

I ask him what he’s up to. He doesn’t respond. I wonder briefly if, without Danny’s bright smile, he’ll return to the silent child he was when he came into our lives. He climbs onto the sofa with me. He squeezes his growing limbs into the empty spaces my prone body doesn’t take up. He places his head on my shoulder. I run my fingers through his hair.

He tells me he misses Danny. I tell him I do too. We are silent for a while. I can tell he is scared. There is more he wants to say, but he is afraid of the answer.

He asks me, his voice soft and cracking, if he’ll have to go back to CYS. Children and Youth Services. The orphanage. Foster homes. Josh was terrified.

I’m shocked and I can only pull him close. I hug him fiercely and tell him that he never has to go back. We are still family. We are family forever.

I feel him relax. We cry together and talk about how much we miss Danny. It grows late and we know we have to get back to living our lives.

As he heads off to his bedroom, he turns to me.

“I love you, Dad.”

I hug him and tell him I love him too. He climbs into his bed.

I climb into mine.